<?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-1775723877890295280</id><updated>2011-07-07T21:46:12.818-04:00</updated><category term='battles with the lulu'/><title type='text'>Raising Bebe Lulu</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>289</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-86488906532757142</id><published>2010-04-18T21:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-18T21:39:31.895-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh, hello.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the deal.  I don't want to blog about work, and I am not a mommy blogger.  I mean I am a mom who blogs but I am not a "MOMMY BLOGGER."  And right now, that's all I've got.  So I've been thinking that maybe I need to give up on this blog.  Maybe start fresh.  Maybe even make it a place where I have  THEME and a purpose.  But right now I am feeling unable to even see straight once the kids are in bed so I am not sure when this wil happen.  Maybe when Bill returns from his trip South for work...Maybe...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-86488906532757142?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/86488906532757142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=86488906532757142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/86488906532757142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/86488906532757142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2010/04/oh-hello.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2410788392301116087</id><published>2010-01-31T20:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-31T20:20:17.738-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I thought this weekend would be relaxing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started on the right note, with lunch with my pal Laura, sans kids.  And before that even I got to work on cleaning my craft room and making it usable.  Oh and before that, I took the day off, so this was Friday.  But then we started to have wood stove issues.  Like smoke leaking from the the stovepipe.  And it was 9 degrees at its warmest on Friday.  And many below that night.  We really NEEDED the wood stove, but had to let it die so Bill could clean out the pipe on Saturday. Oh well, our furnace kept us and the pipes from freezing, so can't complain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday we hit the Wild Center.  Which was fun.  But not exactly relaxing.  When we got home, Bill cleaned the stovepipe.  And then the house filled with smoke. Thickly.  I played in E's room with the kids til headache set in and then I went for a drive with them.  All at dinnertime.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was convinced I had carbon monoxide poisoning, which explains why I washed my cell phone with my clothes, at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But nevermind all that, because Bill got THIS picture at the whyseum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/S2YsOBwkCkI/AAAAAAAAAbI/2gc_kBcG_Bk/s1600-h/DSCF0236.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/S2YsOBwkCkI/AAAAAAAAAbI/2gc_kBcG_Bk/s320/DSCF0236.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433078619970996802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2410788392301116087?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2410788392301116087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2410788392301116087' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2410788392301116087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2410788392301116087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-thought-this-weekend-would-be.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/S2YsOBwkCkI/AAAAAAAAAbI/2gc_kBcG_Bk/s72-c/DSCF0236.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1211505163634249475</id><published>2010-01-21T19:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T20:06:22.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Choice</title><content type='html'>Why am I pro-choice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I am mom.&lt;br /&gt;Because I want my daughter to be able have the education and health care she deserves so she can have the freedom to live the life she want.&lt;br /&gt;Because I want my son to live in a world where women and men are true equals.&lt;br /&gt;Because I got to plan my pregnancies.&lt;br /&gt;Because I believe in God.&lt;br /&gt;Because I believe in love.&lt;br /&gt;Because personal responsibility is a virtue. So is self love.&lt;br /&gt;Because women know what is right for themselves.&lt;br /&gt;Because my parents instilled in me a belief in social justice.&lt;br /&gt;Because children are wonderful and they deserve to be born into families that want them.&lt;br /&gt;Because I hold in my heart the stories shared by friends who had to have illegal abortions. &lt;br /&gt;Because I hold in my heart the stories of the women who never lived to tell them.&lt;br /&gt;Because my body is mine and no one elses.  Not my husband's or my parents' or my childrens'.  It is mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I writing this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I am blogging for choice on the 37th Anniversary of Roe v. Wade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1211505163634249475?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1211505163634249475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1211505163634249475' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1211505163634249475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1211505163634249475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2010/01/choice.html' title='Choice'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6164536028423315529</id><published>2010-01-14T20:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T20:11:25.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Go Round in Circles...</title><content type='html'>Or ovals.  I never was great a geometry.  All I know is the my usually empty personal track has been packed all week.  When I got to the gym this afternoon there were about 10 people running, walking, and limping around it.  So many resolutionaries!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gall bladder is feeling better since I have gone on a low low low fat diet.  I am probably also going to lose weight, so that is a plus. I have an ultrasound on Monday am.  My doc implied that we kind of want to see an obvious issue so it can just be removed.  Having heard so many stories of folks managing gall stones with diet until BAM! the WORST PAIN EVER sets in, sending them to the emergency room, and then being forced to wait in excruciating pain until they can have surgery, I would be more than happy to have it removed while it is not yet horrible horrible, thank you very much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6164536028423315529?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6164536028423315529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6164536028423315529' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6164536028423315529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6164536028423315529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-go-round-in-circles.html' title='I Go Round in Circles...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-7947536061731660472</id><published>2010-01-11T20:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-11T20:12:30.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gall!!</title><content type='html'>Ow.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was pregnant with E and W they both used to wedge their feet up under my ribs on my right side.  Or maybe it was a head.  Whatever body part it was hurt. A lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So imagine my surprise when I felt a little of that same pain on my way back from California.  Because the only body parts in my abdomen are my own.  Same pain.  In front and in back.  On the right side only.  Suddenly it was starting to sound familiar.  Were two friends in two recent conversations BOTH talking about their gall bladders past? And wasn't right side pain a symptom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello Dr. Google.  Thanks for the diagnosis.  I am taking my imaginary feet, which were never feet to begin with (oh...gall bladder pain during pregnancy is common, is it?), to the doctor tomorrow am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-7947536061731660472?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/7947536061731660472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=7947536061731660472' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7947536061731660472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7947536061731660472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2010/01/gall.html' title='The Gall!!'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-7862861620776506724</id><published>2010-01-09T17:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T18:02:52.364-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Blog, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have neglected you and I am sorry.  The holidays were a whirlwind between visits to parents and in-laws and trips to California.  Before that it was year end in fundraising land!  Today was the first in recent memory that Bill and I have just spent a day at home (other than a going to the grocery store) I made Guinness Pie with venison.  And that is just about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, blog, bye for now!  Hopefully I will see you again before another month and a half goes by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Martha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-7862861620776506724?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/7862861620776506724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=7862861620776506724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7862861620776506724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7862861620776506724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-blog-i-have-neglected-you-and-i-am.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3495516825559536352</id><published>2009-11-16T21:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T21:52:22.485-05:00</updated><title type='text'>H - E - Double Hockey Sticks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SwIPgp86wGI/AAAAAAAAAbA/ztDGwgqL4Zw/s1600/IMG_2974.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SwIPgp86wGI/AAAAAAAAAbA/ztDGwgqL4Zw/s320/IMG_2974.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404899556489609314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beeba da Doo is starting hockey on Sunday. Even though I have been duly warned by moms who know better than me that soccer and hockey are to be avoided at all costs, as they require a great deal of travel and sitting in the cold.  And hockey is expensive.  We did not heed these warnings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3495516825559536352?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3495516825559536352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3495516825559536352' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3495516825559536352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3495516825559536352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/11/h-e-double-hockey-sticks.html' title='H - E - Double Hockey Sticks'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SwIPgp86wGI/AAAAAAAAAbA/ztDGwgqL4Zw/s72-c/IMG_2974.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1978194838190010078</id><published>2009-11-08T07:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T08:27:25.078-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Other Women</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I would love to read your opinion, if it offers something to the discussion, but anonymous anti-choice comments will be deleted.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, the House passed its health care bill, which is awesome.  But in order to pass it, an amendment effectively banning abortion coverage from the exchange was allowed.  And that amendment passed.  I sure hope 2 things: that it there was no way to get the bill through without it, and that it will be removed in committee.  I really doubt that the former was true.  I feel totally betrayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what does it mean?  If you don't have insurance now you will be able to purchase insurance in the exchange.  But none of the plans in the exchange can provide abortion coverage.  That means people who are most likely to be uninsured, the working poor, will be denied access to essential health care. Because that is what abortion is, health care.  You might not agree that abortion should be option, but it is.  And it is a legal medical procedure.  So what are poor women to do? (Or middle class women, for that matter, just because you make $40k a year, that doesn't mean you have $500 just sitting around for a procedure.)  The suggestion has been made that they could purchase an abortion rider with their own money.  First of all, no such thing currently exists.  It also creates barriers that just limit women's access. And it implies something that I think is at the core of the abortion debate: that there is a kind of woman who gets an abortion.  And she knows who she is.  The lack of abortion coverage won't be a problem for "good" women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is complete and total bullshit.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 in 4 women will have an abortion. It is highly likely that we all know and love someone who has had an abortion. She is not some anonymous slut or a faceless victim of sexual assault.  She is your wife, your mom, your sister, your boss.  She is a kindergarten teacher, a police officer, a cashier, a college student.  She is me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this idea that she is some other kind of women pervades the debate.  On both sides.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When antis say that abortion is okay only in cases of rape and incest, this is what they are saying.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when pro-choice women say "I believe in the right to choose, but would never have an abortion myself" they are saying another version of the same thing. We need to stop saying that.  Because it doesn't matter what YOU would do. And when you say you wouldn't ever not never terminate a pregnancy, women who have had abortions hear: I am not like you.  But you are. No one has "have an abortion" on their bucket list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We HAVE to stand together on this.  We can not leave poor and working women out to dry. And that is what happened last night.  We said AGAIN that there are some women who do not deserve respect, dignity and the right to equal access to health care.  These aren't OTHER women they/we did this to.  It is us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1978194838190010078?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1978194838190010078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1978194838190010078' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1978194838190010078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1978194838190010078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/11/other-women.html' title='Other Women'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-492312588258232811</id><published>2009-11-05T19:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T20:22:16.548-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spittin' Mad</title><content type='html'>So the circus is over, and only the clowns are left.   If you don't watch, listen to, or read the national news, you might have missed one of the biggest stories of the last week.  In short:  open Congressional seat due to the appointment of the Republican incumbent to the job of Secretary of the Army.  County party chairs pick the Dem and Republican candidates.  They are a socially progressive Republican, and a moderate Democrat.  The Republican, Dede Scozzafava, is a member of the Assembly. The Dem, Bill Owens, is a lawyer.  Then along comes Doug Hoffman, a conservative.  And with him came Glen Beck, Sarah Palin, Rush, and various and sundry right wing interest groups.  He immediately starts attacking both Dede and Bill as liberals.  He is seen as a spoiler, but soon begins gaining traction.  His campaign ads are really ugly. He refuses to debate...And suddenly our local race is seen as a GOP civil war with the conservatives on the right and the moderates on the...well, in the center, I guess!  So Dede is put through the ringer, drops out, and endorses Bill.  Bill wins.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am still really angry.  First, Dede was attacked for many things, some of which I consider fair game politically, though I might not agree with the attacker.  Her past votes, statements made, fine.  But not fair game?  Her appearance.  Her weight, her choice of jacket.  Really.  Who gives a fuck??  Second, Dede has been a supporter of gay marriage and was the only 100% pro-choice candidate.  And suddenly that made her the antichrist, at least according to Hoffman.  She was called a RINO (and again with the sexism - add an H and you have a joke!)  Now, I am no Republican, but I do know a few (They outnumber us in this district!) And let me tell you, many of them support a woman's right to choose.  And a growing number support gay marriage.  As Dede herself said on the radio today, for people who think government should stay out of folks private lives, those things make sense.  Lower taxes, smaller government, less interference. And third, now another local assembly member is being attacked for supporting Dede and having similar stances on those two issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I find surprising is that Hoffman's folks clearly didn't read up on the "parochial" issues of the district and how we roll here.  But someone should have pointed out that as you move from the southeast corner of the district up to the north and west here are the women we in the 23rd  liked enough to elect to the Assembly: Teresa Sayward (R) pro-choice and pro-gay marriage.  Janet Duprey (R) pro-choice and pro-gay marriage and growing more so by the day (and by the way, she is also getting to be one of my personal heroes.) Dede Scozzafava (R) pro-choice and pro-gay marriage, Addie Russell (D) pro-choice and pro-gay marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right.  We have lots of gun-toting, pick up driving Republicans around here.  And I have learned that many of them want  the government to leave them, their uterus, and their gay brother alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, goodbye circus.  Good luck, Bill Owens.  You have some learning to do, but hopefully our Republican neighbors can convince you to support public funding of abortion and gay marriage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-492312588258232811?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/492312588258232811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=492312588258232811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/492312588258232811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/492312588258232811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/11/spittin-mad.html' title='Spittin&apos; Mad'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4985824551106696204</id><published>2009-10-21T22:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T22:06:28.270-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Princess HeyYahHeyYah</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/St--CXpz-NI/AAAAAAAAAa4/KJ0p-MPitw4/s1600-h/IMG_2660.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/St--CXpz-NI/AAAAAAAAAa4/KJ0p-MPitw4/s320/IMG_2660.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395239826531547346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a three and a half year old girl, and that means princesses.  How did this happen?  In addition, her favorite color is pink and she has ideas about what boys can do and what girls can do.  I tried to avoid this, but I guess if I really cared I would have banned tv.  And music.  And movies.  And contact with other kids (and with adults) And the receiving of gifts. And about a sixth of the books we have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she wants to wear that pink to go hunting and fishing.  And she wants to be president, a fire fighter, a dancer, a doctor AND a nurse, and HeyYah!HeyYah!er (also known as a marial arts expert.)  And my favorite story she ever asked me to tell was this..."Mommy tell me they story where I was the princess and Daddy was the king and there was a dragon and I rescued Daddy from the castle."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4985824551106696204?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4985824551106696204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4985824551106696204' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4985824551106696204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4985824551106696204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/princess-heyyahheyyah.html' title='Princess HeyYahHeyYah'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/St--CXpz-NI/AAAAAAAAAa4/KJ0p-MPitw4/s72-c/IMG_2660.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6261944786947568433</id><published>2009-10-19T20:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T21:02:44.113-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We get to know one another in beers here, cups of juice there.  I call you on a Sunday, three weeks after you left a message.  To leave a message.  We ask each other questions between breaking up fights and folding laundry.   I break out the bluetooth for the 15 minute ride to daycare or you get me on the phone when I have half an hour before a meeting. We chat online late at night, after kids have gone to sleep or, rather, in the intervals between escorting them back to bed. Facebook. We have lunch, during the week.  We never manage to talk for longer than 10 minutes at a stretch.  This is friendship after children...simmer over low heat, stir occasionally, very occasionally, hope it doesn't splatter all over the kitchen...It is not at all like it was before, but it still is delicious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6261944786947568433?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6261944786947568433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6261944786947568433' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6261944786947568433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6261944786947568433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/we-get-to-know-one-another-in-beers.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6073252246165462371</id><published>2009-10-14T21:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T21:08:33.552-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good Wife</title><content type='html'>Today my boss and I had a meeting with one of the candidates for the open Congressional seat in our district.  Whenever I sit with politicians - be they candidates or electeds - I come to the same conclusion.  These are not ordinary people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This particular man, a local lawyer who has operated a lot behind the scenes for years, told us that if he wasn't running for office, he would be climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro with one of his daughters.  So not an ordinary either or.  But all things are relative, and in the grand scheme of things, he was fairly normal.  That is why I doubt he will win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There has to be something deep inside that drives a person to open up their life to their community -small or large.  There must be a greater feeling of purpose.  The best in politics have public services as that purpose.  The worst? Ego.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is why when I see strange things happening in the marital relationships of politicians, I have a different take.  The "good wife" who stands at her husband's side no matter what?  I am guessing that 9 times out of 10 she has the same extraordinariness as her husband.  Because really, you usually know who it is your are marrying and, if my theory is right, a politician is born a politician.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6073252246165462371?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6073252246165462371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6073252246165462371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6073252246165462371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6073252246165462371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/good-wife.html' title='The Good Wife'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1979607010479462586</id><published>2009-10-13T21:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T21:34:36.813-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One More Week</title><content type='html'>Bill will be back one week today, provided the gods of air travel choose to smile upon him!  That is all really.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and we had some really good pot roast for dinner tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1979607010479462586?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1979607010479462586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1979607010479462586' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1979607010479462586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1979607010479462586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-more-week.html' title='One More Week'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1514128179740953925</id><published>2009-10-12T19:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T19:08:51.786-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Complaint</title><content type='html'>I've always been a sleeper.  8 or 9 hours is my ideal.  I know that a nightly 9 hours is highly ambitious for someone over the age of say, 5, but I used to get it as often as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story of my sleep is the story of motherhood.  My nine whittled down to 8, 7, 6 as I became more and more pregnant with Eva.  From my 8th month of pregnancy on I was getting 5 or 6 hours.  And then she was born.  And she didn't sleep.  But by the time she was 7 or 8 months old she was only waking once, and I was sleeping 7 hours again.  Not all at once, of course.  By 10 months she was sleeping through the night, and by the time I got pregnant again I was back to a solid 8 hours of sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am plunged back into sleep hell.  10 months old next week and Waylon is still waking 2 or 3 or 5 times. If I could go to bed when he does, at 7:30, I suppose I could handle this, as his wakings come much later at night.  And they start about an hour after I fall asleep.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People give advice about this.  Let him cry.  Sure, that makes him fall back asleep on his own, but it doesn't stop him from waking up again and hour or 2 later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing I want more in this world right now than just ONE night of 6 hours of solid sleep.  Six hours of deep sleep.  Six hours of burrowing deep in a nest of flannel and fleece.  Six hours of dreaming.  Six hours of heaven.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1514128179740953925?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1514128179740953925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1514128179740953925' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1514128179740953925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1514128179740953925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-complaint.html' title='My Complaint'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2067281459583665072</id><published>2009-10-08T21:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T21:24:16.643-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Tomato</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Ss6QkMG9iLI/AAAAAAAAAaw/7qLrBls0yb4/s1600-h/IMG_2843.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Ss6QkMG9iLI/AAAAAAAAAaw/7qLrBls0yb4/s320/IMG_2843.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390404755409176754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2067281459583665072?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2067281459583665072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2067281459583665072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2067281459583665072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2067281459583665072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-love-tomato.html' title='I Love Tomato'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Ss6QkMG9iLI/AAAAAAAAAaw/7qLrBls0yb4/s72-c/IMG_2843.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5482276857792353583</id><published>2009-10-07T21:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T21:09:39.067-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All Mine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Ss07lIsx-zI/AAAAAAAAAao/Tb-_OsDK9DA/s1600-h/IMG_2870.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Ss07lIsx-zI/AAAAAAAAAao/Tb-_OsDK9DA/s320/IMG_2870.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390029838208858930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the wind blows like this and I am home with just the kids in the house, I sometimes feel like any minute I will be Dorothy, swept off into another dimension.  Our house is like a sieve, all cracks and holes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We used to have a postcard on the fridge, an abandoned house with the words "One more payment and it is our!" scrawled across the roof.  When I feel like the roof might break off at any moment I think about that postcard and realize we don't have one more payment left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We really own this place.  It is all ours, holes and cracks and all.  No mortgage.  And I realize how lucky we are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5482276857792353583?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5482276857792353583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5482276857792353583' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5482276857792353583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5482276857792353583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/all-mine.html' title='All Mine'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Ss07lIsx-zI/AAAAAAAAAao/Tb-_OsDK9DA/s72-c/IMG_2870.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6250562244797292644</id><published>2009-10-05T20:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T20:30:30.388-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Farm Fresh Food Club</title><content type='html'>I could go on and on about vichyssoise, but that bitch already did it.  The one with blog and the book and the movie.  At least Julia C. said some not so nice stuff about her, that makes her success easier for me to take (and makes me feel all the more justified in my bitterness.)  But the vichyssoise.  She was right about that.  It really is perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty much everything from my farm share has been perfection, actually.  And it keeps getting better.  This week I am overwhelmed by the chard and the onions and the garlic the broccoli and the potatoes and the tomatoes and the carrots and the herbs and the beets and squash.  And just when I think I have figured out everything I will be making, something else remembers itself to me...But what about the kale?  (Chips.  Kale chips.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pick up every Friday afternoon, and that has become such a treat for my 3 year old.  "The FARM!  Can I see the chickens?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that she is able to see where her food comes from, to pick beans, to meet our farmer.  To know that carrots come out of the ground, not a bag.  I love that she has heard the soft music that is a flock of clucking chickens.  Now I just have to explain that not ALL chickens live in an old camper turned chicken coop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6250562244797292644?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6250562244797292644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6250562244797292644' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6250562244797292644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6250562244797292644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/farm-fresh-food-club.html' title='Farm Fresh Food Club'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-9194021828111136331</id><published>2009-10-03T20:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T20:36:03.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Perfect...</title><content type='html'>Why yes, I did make these cinnamon rolls from scratch.  But don't worry...my house looks like a tornado went through about 10 seconds ago.  The first responders haven't even been paged yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-9194021828111136331?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/9194021828111136331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=9194021828111136331' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/9194021828111136331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/9194021828111136331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/not-perfect.html' title='Not Perfect...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-517063144249325065</id><published>2009-10-02T21:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T21:15:57.871-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Whip It</title><content type='html'>All I have to say is that I am so excited to see this movie that I declared next Friday "Whip It" day at my office and officially decreed that we will all go see this movie as a team activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how much do I love my boss that she suggested my team also get drinks together after?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-517063144249325065?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/517063144249325065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=517063144249325065' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/517063144249325065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/517063144249325065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/whip-it.html' title='Whip It'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2451914799322458017</id><published>2009-10-01T20:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T20:57:45.543-04:00</updated><title type='text'>This what I think when I run...</title><content type='html'>Click the lock shut.  Bend and touch your toes.  Straighten up.  Walk out of the locker room,  Bound up the first set of steps.  At the second set, use the middle step to stretch your calves.  Walk past the men's locker room and wonder why there is a sign telling them to wear at least a towel while the women's locker room has no such sign.  Say hello to the attendant.  Scan the gym.  Climb the stairs.  And stretch.  And Stretch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Start around the track, Clockwise on Monday, Wednesday, Friday.  Walk briskly.  Feel the cold air coming in the windows.  Breathe.  Count off five minutes.  It is faster than you can imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Start to run.  Feel strong.  Think about your posture.  Don't spill the water from the bowl of your pelvis.  Keep your feet straight.  Arms loose.  Shoulders loose.  Head up.  Think about where you foot hits the track.  Smell the gym smell.  Count the laps on your fingers.  11 times is a mile.  Do you count the lap as you do it?  Or when you finish?  Why did they change the radio station?  The other one was better.  Why don't you have an ipod?  Wonder if birds ever fly in the windows.  Is that bird poop on the blue rubber of the track, or is a drop of white paint?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should you be breathing that fast?  Running that fast?  How many laps was that?  This song is okay.  Maybe this station won't be so bad.  You can look at your watch after four songs.  Or after 15 laps.  How do you count again?  Look at the track.  No, keep your head up,  Look at the brick wall.  Don't look at that clock.  Think about work.  Think about work some more.  Some more.  See?  You ran a lot while you thought about work.  But how many laps was that?  If you just think about work, you won't get tired.  You can't think of anything to think about.  How can this song still be on.  Don't look at your watch.  Don't look. Don't look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about the kids.  When will that rash go away?  What will you feed them for dinner tonight? Your hip hurts. You should have stretched more.  How many laps?  How many fingers?  Try to do the math.  If 11 laps is a mile and 16 and three quarters laps is 1.5 miles, how many miles is 25 laps?  But if you run faster than a lap a minute, which you do now, you will run more than 25 laps in 25 minutes.  And you want to run 2 and a half miles in 25 minutes today.  Wait.  How fast do you have to run each lap if train A leaves the station on time?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did you look at your watch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just sing along with the song.  Sing. Sing.  Sing.  Your voice in your head is a really good singer.  Sing. Sing. Sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is over!  Now you can walk!  Walking feels so good.  And that was easy.  You could have run for many many more minutes.  Oh shit.  This is why you should start your run on a time ending in five or zero.  You should have been running until 12:28 not 12:26.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So add an extra minute.  Sprint.  Sprint.  Sprint.  You are fast fast fast.  You think about work again.  If you can run this fast now, you were not working hard enough before.  Run fast fast fast.  Make sure the time is up before you stop.  There. And walk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2451914799322458017?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2451914799322458017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2451914799322458017' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2451914799322458017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2451914799322458017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/10/this-what-i-think-when-i-run.html' title='This what I think when I run...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3365763286765446729</id><published>2009-09-27T21:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T21:07:07.433-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Colorado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALe18jxeI/AAAAAAAAAag/WGURip1yrZU/s1600-h/IMG_2804.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALe18jxeI/AAAAAAAAAag/WGURip1yrZU/s320/IMG_2804.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386317778840176098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He eats Tigers for Lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALeVH8ldI/AAAAAAAAAaY/_-ayyZpIO3U/s1600-h/IMG_2777.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALeVH8ldI/AAAAAAAAAaY/_-ayyZpIO3U/s320/IMG_2777.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386317770029569490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She eats snacks before dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALd4z-hQI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/x34eNaddPaw/s1600-h/IMG_2834.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALd4z-hQI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/x34eNaddPaw/s320/IMG_2834.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386317762429617410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They eat ice cream together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALdVV4FZI/AAAAAAAAAaI/AN1hZ7wioyI/s1600-h/IMG_2764.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALdVV4FZI/AAAAAAAAAaI/AN1hZ7wioyI/s320/IMG_2764.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386317752908125586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I could eat them both up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3365763286765446729?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3365763286765446729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3365763286765446729' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3365763286765446729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3365763286765446729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/09/colorado.html' title='Colorado'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SsALe18jxeI/AAAAAAAAAag/WGURip1yrZU/s72-c/IMG_2804.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3616784980649522598</id><published>2009-09-26T20:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T20:52:48.662-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Week 7</title><content type='html'>So I am now entering Couch to 5k week 7. The first week of all workouts being all running. And it makes me think:  what should I be thinking about while I am running?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I mostly run inside on a 1/11 of a mile track, I certainly can't think about the landscape.  Though on Fridays, I can enjoy looking down on the play group in the gym and this week a friend's 18 month old kept yelling to me and watching.  But in general, landscape is out.  If I think about my body I get too bogged down in being tired, or out of breathe.  I suppose I should look for what feels strong.  Other times, I just focus on distance (but never time.)  And sadly, I spend a lot of tme thinking about work,  But I will say that that kind of thinking often finds me distracted from the running for a lap or so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I' ve just started reading about running as moving meditation...can you imagine?  I could totally be killing two birds here..physical and mental fitness, all at once!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3616784980649522598?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3616784980649522598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3616784980649522598' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3616784980649522598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3616784980649522598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/09/week-7.html' title='Week 7'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4621634487786332788</id><published>2009-09-14T21:37:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T21:43:14.357-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Still At It</title><content type='html'>Still running!  I finished week 5 today with a 2 mile 100% running run!  So proud of me!  We'll be in Colorado on Thursday and I need to run Friday...I wonder if the change in elevation will have an impact on me?  Only my dinosaurs will know for sure...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sq7wsGK91NI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Jiduar4Lh3g/s1600-h/IMG_2707.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sq7wsGK91NI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Jiduar4Lh3g/s320/IMG_2707.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381503245115839698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4621634487786332788?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4621634487786332788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4621634487786332788' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4621634487786332788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4621634487786332788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/09/still-at-it.html' title='Still At It'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sq7wsGK91NI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Jiduar4Lh3g/s72-c/IMG_2707.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5974285692655154086</id><published>2009-09-08T21:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T21:13:51.349-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One for the Ethicist...or Miss Manners</title><content type='html'>So I am going to be pretty vague here because I work and live in a small community...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was in a public place and there was a group of 10 or so teenagers, mostly female, near me.  They were talking about a friend who thinks she might be pregnant and a back and forth ensued about whether or not she could get an abortion without her parents knowing.  I think.  I wasn't THAT close.  But clearly they were talking about the logistics and legality of abortion.  And I just happen to know ALL about that.  Because that is my job.  I was really torn about what to do...should I jump in the conversation or not?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, I just walked away because I realized that I am totally going to come off like a buttinsky pain in the ass know it all mom type I say anything.  And also, eavesdropping?  Totally rude.  And also as an employee of the local abortion provider, I was a little worried about raising concerns about confidentiality.   I am tempted to go leave a few copies of "A Minor's Right to Reproductive Health Care in New York" in the general area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you have done?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5974285692655154086?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5974285692655154086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5974285692655154086' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5974285692655154086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5974285692655154086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-for-ethicistor-miss-manners.html' title='One for the Ethicist...or Miss Manners'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-9004754209151893074</id><published>2009-09-03T21:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T21:10:55.191-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Postal</title><content type='html'>Oh yes, I did pick the cheesiest post title ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's comes a post worthy of the &lt;a href="http://wilmwarbler.blogspot.com"&gt;Wilmington Warbler&lt;/a&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My local post office stinks. (If you are reading this USPS my zip code is 12997) When Bill is in Alaska it is now NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE for me to get my mail on other than a Saturday.  And yes, I will be out of town on a few Saturdays.  We have a box and were told we couldn't get our mail delivered, though other people around town seem to be allowed that option.  The post office itself opens at 8am...if the postmistress decides to unlock on time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the window doesn't open til 8:30 half the days and 9:30 on the other half.  I work at 8:30.  Used to be the window was open at 8am and I could work 9 til 5 on the days I came in late after getting the mail.  No more!  If I wait til 8:30 to be leaving town I won't be at work til 9:30 and that means staying til 5:30 which means we get home at 7. And that wis only if the window is actually open on time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why do I need the window?  Because I can only get there once per week and of course by that time the mail won't FIT in our box.  So am I supposed to buy a bigger box just because SOMEONE decided to open later?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only saving grace is that Sue works on Saturdays and I LOVE SUE.  Otherwise I would....well, I don't know, since I need to get mail and have no other options!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-9004754209151893074?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/9004754209151893074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=9004754209151893074' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/9004754209151893074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/9004754209151893074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/09/going-postal.html' title='Going Postal'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-735394716769521643</id><published>2009-09-01T20:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T20:41:12.491-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Week 3 Complete!</title><content type='html'>Today I finished week of the the couch to 5k and it dawned on me, as I rounded the track on my final jogging interval, that there is something to this program.  Each week, with the exception of the 1st, I wasn't sure I would be able to do the work out before my first attempt.  And each week I've not only completed it, but felt ready to move up when I was done with all three workouts.   Until I looked at the next set of workouts, anyway.  And so I know that while the next week seems tough, I will be able to do it and do it somewhat comfortably by the end of the week.  How clever of them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-735394716769521643?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/735394716769521643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=735394716769521643' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/735394716769521643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/735394716769521643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/09/week-3-complete.html' title='Week 3 Complete!'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2376494243549714123</id><published>2009-08-31T20:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T21:01:34.037-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mice</title><content type='html'>These mice are big, y'all.  And bold.  Just wandering past the kitchen sink before it is EVEN DARK.  Last night was night three of my mission to kill, and it was the first night of success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it so wrong that I kind of like when I hear the snap of the trap followed by a small little bit of scrambling and struggle?  Oh, I am sure it is.  But the bastards poop on the counter, on the high chair, on the dish rack.  I have children living here.  And one of them will put anything in his mouth.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am merciless when it comes to this kind of thing, or as I have joked before, I don't have a heart.  A few years ago we had a chipmunk problem.  They'd get in and then run around all willy nilly (at least mice seem to be on a mission for food).  So we set a have a heart trap.  When we caught them, Bill dispatched with them.  But then he was gone to Alaska.  I caught one.  And had no idea what to do.  I fear bringing it somewhere because frankly, all I can think of as I drive with it in the cage in the back the car is "What if this is the one that figures out how to escape?"  So I left it in the trap on the porch.  When I came home, the neighbor's cat was sitting next beside the trap.  Watching.  And the next morning it was dead.  I seriously think it just stressed out and died.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this, of all the possible and threatened reasons, is why I will be going to Hell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2376494243549714123?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2376494243549714123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2376494243549714123' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2376494243549714123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2376494243549714123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/08/mice.html' title='Mice'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-79823011631313660</id><published>2009-08-30T20:18:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T20:26:14.318-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise!</title><content type='html'>I've been dreading winter this year...our leaky house (in many ways) and our old furnace loom large in my anxieties.  We aren't fixing these things right now because we've come to a point where we aren't willing to put any money because we are pretty sure the prudent decision would be to tear it down and put up something new. Something smaller and more efficient.  With closets and a bathtub.  Luxuries like that.  Anyway.  That's not the point.  I've just been dreading winter.  The house, the cold, Bill probably having to leave to find work.  The changing leaves I spotted on the drive over the mountain to book club were enough to send me over the edge.  The mice have arrived, as they do every fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I realized.  It's about all that and it is not.  I think I really miss Bill but I am too busy to be able to feel that loneliness and this is where it is all coming to a head.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually I feel empty and sad immediately after he leaves through at least the week after Labor Day weekend.  But not this year. Apparently 2 kids, working, cooking, cleaning, and battling rodents is enough for emotions.  I wasn't feeling the rawness until just an hour ago, when I figured out what it is all about.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do like being alone, but...not really.  What I like is being alone with Bill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-79823011631313660?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/79823011631313660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=79823011631313660' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/79823011631313660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/79823011631313660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/08/surprise.html' title='Surprise!'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2797786978061566080</id><published>2009-08-30T09:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T09:20:27.460-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation Revisited</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Spp7-_y8sjI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/q6wSS45z-oE/s1600-h/IMG_2699.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Spp7-_y8sjI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/q6wSS45z-oE/s320/IMG_2699.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375745427427340850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look so pained, because I was.  That fish was heavy and I had already dropped it once and had the worst grip on it.  I was also really excited...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Spp7-ZeRK-I/AAAAAAAAAZw/f24ixVWO3b4/s1600-h/IMG_2637.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Spp7-ZeRK-I/AAAAAAAAAZw/f24ixVWO3b4/s320/IMG_2637.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375745417140055010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waylon and Daddy bonded.  And bonded.  And bonded.  And that is why word number one was Dada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Spp7996CK9I/AAAAAAAAAZo/XWcpaYR1H8g/s1600-h/IMG_2579.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Spp7996CK9I/AAAAAAAAAZo/XWcpaYR1H8g/s320/IMG_2579.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375745409740319698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eva Cornhands.  We got a 60 count bag o' corn for the big family party and Eva is playing in the remains....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we had a vacation and it was great...And I am sure the fact that I got crippling upper back pain the day before I went back to work was a bizarre coincidence.  Or not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2797786978061566080?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2797786978061566080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2797786978061566080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2797786978061566080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2797786978061566080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/08/vacation-revisited.html' title='Vacation Revisited'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Spp7-_y8sjI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/q6wSS45z-oE/s72-c/IMG_2699.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8455582639174278104</id><published>2009-08-29T15:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T15:32:36.253-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Running Scared</title><content type='html'>So as I mentioned, I started running again on vacation and I was stressing over how I would continue once Bill was in Alaska and then when winter arrives.  And I had that moment of inspiration where I remember that the Burgh has a city gym with a track and that I can join as a non-resident.  So I did.  And I had my first run there yesterday after work.  And let me tell you, this place could really inspire a sprint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the gym was part of the Air Force Base...either that or it dates back the War of 1812.  It is an old brick building with a basketball court with the track above on the main level and weight rooms below (also racquetball courts...that has always seemed fun.)  The locker rooms are on the lower level with weight room.  Well, the MEN'S locker room is.  The Woman's locker room is in the basement.  Imagine the scariest horror movie gym locker room set ever and you understand what I am talking about.  There are showers and a sauna.  Like I will ever dare get in the sauna.  Because clearly the creak of the door and the hiss of the steam is what summons the serial killer.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was already dressed when I arrived yesterday, because I wanted to scope the place out. Plus I need to a combination lock for my locker, or to use in defending myself from the killer.  See you on Tuesday, Killer!*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*And actually, Killer, if you make me sprint from the basement up to the track, I won't have to really warm up, so that would be ok.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8455582639174278104?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8455582639174278104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8455582639174278104' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8455582639174278104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8455582639174278104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/08/running-scared.html' title='Running Scared'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-7966122626868763114</id><published>2009-08-27T09:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T09:34:53.296-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Blogger...</title><content type='html'>Oh boy am I a bad blogger!  So sorry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill is off to Alaska...he left Albany this am at 6 and has already called from Chicago...I'm home because he really really wanted to be driven to the airport this morning so I woke at 2 to get all of us in the car....hoping everyone needs a nap later!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My big news is that I decided to start running again.  I've been doing Cool Running's Couch to 5K program, which is an 8 or 9 week series of workouts...I'm on week three and was stressing over how I would continue with Bill gone and only a single jogging stroller.  But a shower thought came to me and I realized I could get a membership to the track at the P'burgh city gym on the base.  Sold!  I have my first indoor run tomorrow after work and plan to do 3 lunchtime runs a week.  On the off days I have been doing pilates and the strength and abs portion of the 30 day shred.  Now i just need to find a 5k to run in November.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a great vacation and W is now the master of the backwards scoot and the owner of one tooth!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-7966122626868763114?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/7966122626868763114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=7966122626868763114' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7966122626868763114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7966122626868763114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/08/bad-blogger.html' title='Bad Blogger...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6088280658550851101</id><published>2009-07-18T21:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T21:19:24.732-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SmJ0KiimNWI/AAAAAAAAAZg/gM55Gxv-hyM/s1600-h/IMG_2429.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SmJ0KiimNWI/AAAAAAAAAZg/gM55Gxv-hyM/s320/IMG_2429.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359974230943741282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waylon is 7 months old today!  He is now spending a lot of time sitting.  And thinking.  Or just sitting.  This is  a new trick this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He celebrated by having breakfast with friends and an afternoon playdate, too.  Of course I neglected to take any pictures of the cuteness that was friend Yosi checking out W's piggies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6088280658550851101?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6088280658550851101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6088280658550851101' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6088280658550851101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6088280658550851101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/07/seven-months.html' title='Seven Months'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SmJ0KiimNWI/AAAAAAAAAZg/gM55Gxv-hyM/s72-c/IMG_2429.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-7265072869515508062</id><published>2009-07-17T21:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T21:55:17.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>From the farm...</title><content type='html'>The farm share is getting better and better!  This week I got broccoli, cauliflower, green onions, chard, parsley, potatoes, salad greens and zucchini.  I am thinking a chard and cauliflower gratin might be the way to go.  We've been getting napa cabbage, which I love love love, but Eva picked the "trees" over  that this week, so she will be having broc with dinner tomorrow night!  Last week Bill roasted the potatoes, so I may try that again.  The possibilities are endless and I am bummed to be giving up 2 weeks in early August, but luckily I found a good home for my veggies whilst we are vacationing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-7265072869515508062?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/7265072869515508062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=7265072869515508062' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7265072869515508062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7265072869515508062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/07/from-farm.html' title='From the farm...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8926230840170104477</id><published>2009-07-16T21:31:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T21:35:48.615-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sl_U6jt3i5I/AAAAAAAAAZY/orCRyowisWU/s1600-h/IMG_2408.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sl_U6jt3i5I/AAAAAAAAAZY/orCRyowisWU/s320/IMG_2408.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359236184079305618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill is off to Long Island to make some actual money.  The man is really the Brett Favre of commercial fishing.  He has yet again unretired and we miss him already.  (He just left yesterday morning.)  Please think about him and refrain from talking to me about a.) &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Deadliest Catch&lt;/span&gt; or b.) &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Perfect Storm&lt;/span&gt; until he has returned.  Oh, and go buy some lobsters and drive up the price.  I know what a sacrifice it is!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8926230840170104477?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8926230840170104477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8926230840170104477' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8926230840170104477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8926230840170104477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/07/missing.html' title='Missing'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sl_U6jt3i5I/AAAAAAAAAZY/orCRyowisWU/s72-c/IMG_2408.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-159074828646714480</id><published>2009-07-12T21:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T22:05:31.347-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Like getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick...</title><content type='html'>For the last few weeks (or maybe months?) I have been struggling with how to discipline the crazy Miss Lulu.  She has a tendency to get extremely wound up, to fly off into temper tantrums, and to be extremely demanding and bossy.  Especially with me.  But last night was a real wake up call.  We had been at a birthday party for a neighbor, with lots of other kids.  She did great, and found some older (7 or 8 year old) girls to hang out with for much of the party.  When we were leaving something happened...I think they were doing something she couldn't do and she was mad that they didn't want her to join them (they had been VERY patient up til then.)  So there was a meltdown in the car as we drove to see our pal Larry's band play at the Ward Theater in Jay.  (Yes, Larry who played at our wedding...)  We talked to her about how big kids are big kids and she's not big yet and how she needs to listen to us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when we got to the concert I think she was thrilled to be the big kid around a bunch of small kids.  And then she got CRAZY.  Running around, screeching, running around, getting in the faces of the littler kids. Not in a mean way, but she just wanted them to PLAY WITH HER.  NOW!  I stopped her and talked to her about being careful around little kids, made her apologize when she knocked the cutest boy in Upper Jay over accidentally, made her put down sticks and rocks.  And then, when she was on the other side of the shrubs from me she poked another little kid in the eye.  With a stick.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty sure I vaulted over the shrubs.  The other kid looked ok (and his mom was right there) and I grabbed her and hauled her away as fast as I could.  (Bill figured out to follow with a glance.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so angry and embarrassed.  I should have made her apologize, but I was really so mad at her that I couldn't even speak.  She begged us to let her go back but it home and into bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still mad when I peeked in on her at midnight.  But got over it when she upchucked all over her bed not fifteen minutes later.  (Second time this week...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.  We do time outs.  We talk to her about expectations.  But she continues to be totally defiant and I see that I have let her run over me a LOT in the past.  So now what????  And also, how do I know if she is a normal crazy 3.5 year old, or if she has a behavior problem?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This shit is hard, y'all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-159074828646714480?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/159074828646714480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=159074828646714480' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/159074828646714480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/159074828646714480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/07/like-getting-poked-in-eye-with-sharp.html' title='Like getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4016592893963738446</id><published>2009-07-12T21:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T21:41:57.186-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Boxer</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-4f9894545a478778" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D4f9894545a478778%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330134077%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D3D861587879C5E1F3940CBF00BE487A17A4E1653.74426FECF05D430BC9FC559BA3CE541AC7156926%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D4f9894545a478778%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D4LGiHWR2tzNloRrCPE4eBEXA9DY&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D4f9894545a478778%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330134077%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D3D861587879C5E1F3940CBF00BE487A17A4E1653.74426FECF05D430BC9FC559BA3CE541AC7156926%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D4f9894545a478778%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D4LGiHWR2tzNloRrCPE4eBEXA9DY&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4016592893963738446?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=4f9894545a478778&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4016592893963738446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4016592893963738446' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4016592893963738446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4016592893963738446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/07/boxer.html' title='The Boxer'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2892791851605150865</id><published>2009-07-08T21:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T21:57:41.026-04:00</updated><title type='text'>IOU</title><content type='html'>I totally owe a post but I just need to go to bed!  In the meantime I will be praying for a sunny Friday because I took the day off from work and I plan on being a BAD MAMA and bringing the kids to day care anyway and working in my garden, cleaning my house and getting a quilt together!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2892791851605150865?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2892791851605150865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2892791851605150865' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2892791851605150865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2892791851605150865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/07/iou.html' title='IOU'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3834414470157304189</id><published>2009-06-30T19:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T19:18:20.367-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Jewels, updated.</title><content type='html'>Bill's jewels are well on their way to being healed.  And Waylon is a healthy healthy six month old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, folks, that's all I've got!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope to pick strawberries and start quilting W's quilt over the weekend.  Oh!  And Celebrate our 5th Anniversary!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3834414470157304189?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3834414470157304189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3834414470157304189' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3834414470157304189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3834414470157304189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/06/jewels-updated.html' title='The Jewels, updated.'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1069691876689970268</id><published>2009-06-22T21:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T21:48:53.306-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SkAznx2XI3I/AAAAAAAAAZQ/a3izeHVulQI/s1600-h/IMG_2297.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SkAznx2XI3I/AAAAAAAAAZQ/a3izeHVulQI/s320/IMG_2297.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350333115805410162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this very moment I am feeling just about the exact opposite of how Eva looks in this picture.  I am so not ready to go anywhere.  Today was pretty much the longest day ever and involved a lot of stress, a lot of running around, and a lot of pain.  Luckily for me, I was spared the pain.  But poor Bill is in bed with an ice pack on his crotch, sleeping the sleep of narcotics.  And in a few short months my days of responsibility for birth control are OVER.  So I think the day was worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I want to go to bed and I just can't face waking him, moving him and getting him resettled.  So maybe I will sleep on the couch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1069691876689970268?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1069691876689970268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1069691876689970268' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1069691876689970268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1069691876689970268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/06/at-this-very-moment-i-am-feeling-just.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SkAznx2XI3I/AAAAAAAAAZQ/a3izeHVulQI/s72-c/IMG_2297.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4092750243967766528</id><published>2009-06-18T21:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T21:28:35.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>CSA</title><content type='html'>Our CSA farm share starts tomorrow and I am so excited!  It is perfect timing since I have been getting back into cooking now that Waylon is a little older and I am getting more sleep.  (Not enough, but more.)  The farmer emailed and said there would be a lot of greens, like that is a bad thing!  I love greens.  Chard. Kale. Collards.  Love. Love. Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus more veggies will look the chart fitday.com draws of my nutrition intake look much better...less green (fat), I hope!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been tracking my food and aiming for 1900 calories a day plus a little exercise.  So far one and a half pounds down this week, which is the worst week of the month for weighing myself anyway.  It's hard to know how many calories I really need, since I am still nursing, so I am keeping an eagle eye on my supply and drinking more water.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4092750243967766528?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4092750243967766528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4092750243967766528' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4092750243967766528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4092750243967766528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/06/csa.html' title='CSA'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1752300960691924426</id><published>2009-06-14T21:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T21:11:05.069-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And of course backhoes...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWfnqOvdEI/AAAAAAAAAZE/_BQd6r6Eb1s/s1600-h/IMG_2224.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWfnqOvdEI/AAAAAAAAAZE/_BQd6r6Eb1s/s320/IMG_2224.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347355636272165954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1752300960691924426?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1752300960691924426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1752300960691924426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1752300960691924426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1752300960691924426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/06/and-of-course-backhoes.html' title='And of course backhoes...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWfnqOvdEI/AAAAAAAAAZE/_BQd6r6Eb1s/s72-c/IMG_2224.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1543366319946481005</id><published>2009-06-14T21:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-14T21:08:07.350-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Modes of Transport</title><content type='html'>Eva sure gets around...at Dozer Day she rode (or pretended to ride!) ponies, her dad's shoulders, Homeland Security helicopter, big race car, small race car....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWe0m1iqsI/AAAAAAAAAY8/XSynzn4Tl-g/s1600-h/IMG_2287.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWe0m1iqsI/AAAAAAAAAY8/XSynzn4Tl-g/s320/IMG_2287.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347354759187835586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWe0LPZF8I/AAAAAAAAAY0/7RqdyAWIDIM/s1600-h/IMG_2279.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWe0LPZF8I/AAAAAAAAAY0/7RqdyAWIDIM/s320/IMG_2279.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347354751780067266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWezzeqemI/AAAAAAAAAYs/R9iH8YQD7Ig/s1600-h/IMG_2273.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWezzeqemI/AAAAAAAAAYs/R9iH8YQD7Ig/s320/IMG_2273.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347354745401670242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWezXaOJMI/AAAAAAAAAYk/rNSQFcUeJcI/s1600-h/IMG_2266.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWezXaOJMI/AAAAAAAAAYk/rNSQFcUeJcI/s320/IMG_2266.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347354737866843330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWezJHoQPI/AAAAAAAAAYc/7xiAT_RARdQ/s1600-h/IMG_2251.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWezJHoQPI/AAAAAAAAAYc/7xiAT_RARdQ/s320/IMG_2251.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347354734030766322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1543366319946481005?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1543366319946481005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1543366319946481005' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1543366319946481005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1543366319946481005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/06/modes-of-transport.html' title='Modes of Transport'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SjWe0m1iqsI/AAAAAAAAAY8/XSynzn4Tl-g/s72-c/IMG_2287.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8177700509728341818</id><published>2009-06-12T17:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T17:57:33.065-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eva is in the living room, reading the Campmor catalogue.  She just said, "I am checking out the things Daddy and I are going to sleep in...tents, sleeping bags..."  And I am so glad they do stuff like that together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also she asked today, "What's a wrapped up mummy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How would YOU have explained that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8177700509728341818?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8177700509728341818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8177700509728341818' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8177700509728341818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8177700509728341818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/06/eva-is-in-living-room-reading-campmor.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2001506216948170707</id><published>2009-06-04T21:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T21:56:04.258-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Drag Me Out of Hell</title><content type='html'>This week has been pretty crappy.  There's not really any one thing, just a serious of small annoyances on top of great generalized anxiety at work after Sunday's murder.  And the fact that I have not been sleeping enough.  And am experiencing a huge dip in milk production, at least in terms of pumping.  (Which leads me to nurse all night long to try and get my supply kick started and Waylon filled up but results in my getting not the best sleep.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's my remedy.  Horror.  Yes.  At the movies.  Alone.  On a Friday afternoon.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Drag Me to Hell.&lt;/span&gt;  Inexplicably, the only movie I really really want to see right now.  I can not wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2001506216948170707?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2001506216948170707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2001506216948170707' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2001506216948170707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2001506216948170707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/06/drag-me-out-of-hell.html' title='Drag Me Out of Hell'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1374393877730596114</id><published>2009-06-01T19:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T19:10:57.397-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello June, Goodbye snow?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiRftmiGqvI/AAAAAAAAAYU/QyydXIRPIN0/s1600-h/IMG_2123.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiRftmiGqvI/AAAAAAAAAYU/QyydXIRPIN0/s320/IMG_2123.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342500295010593522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday afternoon it snowed here at my house.  And stuck on the mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is just wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1374393877730596114?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1374393877730596114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1374393877730596114' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1374393877730596114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1374393877730596114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/06/hello-june-goodbye-snow.html' title='Hello June, Goodbye snow?'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiRftmiGqvI/AAAAAAAAAYU/QyydXIRPIN0/s72-c/IMG_2123.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4741909258737445398</id><published>2009-05-31T18:46:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T21:56:43.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today George Tiller, a Kansas abortion provider, was murdered as he served as an usher at his church.  It has been more than 10 years since the last deadly clinic violence, though arson and vandalism of providers' offices are a near monthly occurrences.  The general public may forget the risk that abortion providers incur to provide care for women.  But I work at a family planning clinic that also provides abortions.  Our protesters are tame but when new ones show up we are very aware of their presence.  We take security very seriously, but our staff has to treat patients, and they must go out into the world at the end of the day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Tiller was famous because he performed late-term abortions.  By doing so, he literally saved the lives of many, many women over the years.  Many of patients faced heartbreaking outcomes of wanted pregnancies. Others were victims of successful anti-choice efforts to throw obstacles up in the path to abortion access.  Because of the procedures he did he was a very large target for anti-choice zealots. He had survived a previous attempt on his life.  He was harassed by Phill Kline, the former Kansas Attorney General, who seemed to be suing Tiller every chance other week. Operation Rescue had a "Tiller Watch" on their website.   And yet.  And yet he continued to be Doctor Tiller for his patients. For the women of Kansas and beyond.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could be scared.  Maybe I am a little scared.  But I am also outraged.  And I am channeling that outrage. Tomorrow I will be in the office. I will be working on the project I had already planned for the morning: writing an appeal for our Choice Fund, which helps women with no other resources pay for their abortions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tonight, I am thinking of Dr. Tiller, and praying for the safety of the abortion providers I know personally, and for the ones I don't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4741909258737445398?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4741909258737445398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4741909258737445398' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4741909258737445398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4741909258737445398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/05/today-george-tiller-kansas-abortion.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8481659507549856066</id><published>2009-05-30T22:02:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T22:10:54.224-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Pond</title><content type='html'>We took the gigantic new canoe to Black Pond today.  It is our go-to paddling spot...pretty close, beautiful, rarely crowded, and full of loons.  It was Waylon's first time on the water, and his first time in a PFD.  He took it better than Eva did at that age at least!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmfLjzacI/AAAAAAAAAYE/ssBCUwhqKmE/s1600-h/IMG_2114.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmfLjzacI/AAAAAAAAAYE/ssBCUwhqKmE/s320/IMG_2114.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341804056391412162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmer0xMGI/AAAAAAAAAX8/r0-Go4sjn2M/s1600-h/IMG_2102.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmer0xMGI/AAAAAAAAAX8/r0-Go4sjn2M/s320/IMG_2102.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341804047872634978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmeYzDbdI/AAAAAAAAAX0/O5EeT-7rDUs/s1600-h/IMG_2088.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmeYzDbdI/AAAAAAAAAX0/O5EeT-7rDUs/s320/IMG_2088.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341804042765168082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home we went through Alder Brook, and as we came around a curve in the road a bear ran in front of the truck...he was pretty small but gorgeous.  I couldn't get a picture of him, but here are his tracks: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmfdaLc5I/AAAAAAAAAYM/4Jchct1p4h4/s1600-h/IMG_2121.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmfdaLc5I/AAAAAAAAAYM/4Jchct1p4h4/s320/IMG_2121.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341804061182882706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8481659507549856066?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8481659507549856066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8481659507549856066' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8481659507549856066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8481659507549856066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/05/our-pond.html' title='Our Pond'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SiHmfLjzacI/AAAAAAAAAYE/ssBCUwhqKmE/s72-c/IMG_2114.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-915231597910108126</id><published>2009-05-26T21:26:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T21:55:45.480-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mama's Got A Brand New Bag</title><content type='html'>I am addicted to totes.  I rationalize them as diaper bags, but really I couldn't give a crap whether or not they work as such.  If they are cute and tote-y...I want.  My requirements...roomy, but not too big.  And also with a long enough handle to go over my shoulder.  I just got a new one from my lovely new friend Laura.  She and other new friend Julia (who happens to be her sister) sell their wares &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=6711217"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  But if you are lucky like me you can go to the source.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's the problem.  I really get new bags because the old ones get too full of crap to use.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they are.  The new one is front and center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybpEUBf1I/AAAAAAAAAXM/pBWGsKazsDc/s1600-h/IMG_2069.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 207px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybpEUBf1I/AAAAAAAAAXM/pBWGsKazsDc/s320/IMG_2069.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340314387989233490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And the contents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bag 1:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybpmpG_ZI/AAAAAAAAAXU/WjMndZzeD8c/s1600-h/IMG_2070.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybpmpG_ZI/AAAAAAAAAXU/WjMndZzeD8c/s320/IMG_2070.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340314397204479378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bring this one to work every day...breastpump valves, bottle caps, tshirts for an Assemblymember's children, emergency soup?, granola bar, half finished bottle of water, flashlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my life people!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybqvITF7I/AAAAAAAAAXs/BGS-NeijPMQ/s1600-h/IMG_2075.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybqvITF7I/AAAAAAAAAXs/BGS-NeijPMQ/s320/IMG_2075.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340314416662648754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybqJrqDLI/AAAAAAAAAXk/pzP-X5TUmVo/s1600-h/IMG_2074.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybqJrqDLI/AAAAAAAAAXk/pzP-X5TUmVo/s320/IMG_2074.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340314406610406578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Shybp3hXGCI/AAAAAAAAAXc/2TUF7IyiECw/s1600-h/IMG_2073.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Shybp3hXGCI/AAAAAAAAAXc/2TUF7IyiECw/s320/IMG_2073.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340314401735383074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the other bags?  Diapers, diapers, diapers.  Wipes.  Car adapter for an unknown appliance, not breastpump. Tissues.  Toys.  Waylon's socks.  My socks.  Mittens for Eva.  Baby shoes.  Lint.  Receipts.  Crap.  Well, hey there spare car keys! I need to go spend that gift card from Bath and Body Works.  Merry Xmas!  Really really pretty stationery wrap from Julia (see above link for shop!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea what was in these. And I bring at least one with me wherever I go.  Sometime two.  Like today.  When I brought 2 totes of useless junk to work.  But left the breastpump at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something tells me I am a candidate for about 5 different cable tv makeover shows...(Probably more, but I cropped out the rest of clutter from the pictures, so you'll never know!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-915231597910108126?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/915231597910108126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=915231597910108126' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/915231597910108126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/915231597910108126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/05/mamas-got-brand-new-bag.html' title='Mama&apos;s Got A Brand New Bag'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShybpEUBf1I/AAAAAAAAAXM/pBWGsKazsDc/s72-c/IMG_2069.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1612828253637533957</id><published>2009-05-25T10:29:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T10:34:20.021-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Accomplished</title><content type='html'>My house is still a mess.  But the good news is that it is not MORE of a mess than it was on Friday.  We've spent our time not cleaning setting up the crib for Waylon, planting wildflower seed mix, setting up a container garden, shopping, laundering, eating popsicles and thinking about cleaning the house.  Tonight it is a cookout with folks from the Hungry Trout (we will be representing Bill.) He is currently steaming out with his friend Vinnie to set lobster traps 8 hours off of Long Island.  Hopefully we will experience the fruits of this labor on our summer vacation in August.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm considering a walk around Mirror Lake this afternoon...we'll see when the nap ends!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1612828253637533957?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1612828253637533957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1612828253637533957' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1612828253637533957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1612828253637533957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/05/accomplished.html' title='Accomplished'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-931305849622501428</id><published>2009-05-18T21:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T21:28:12.496-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShIIzZWUNmI/AAAAAAAAAXE/uqi4MkJNjyc/s1600-h/IMG_1976.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShIIzZWUNmI/AAAAAAAAAXE/uqi4MkJNjyc/s320/IMG_1976.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337338187458295394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who wouldn't love to be with these two all the time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's not answer that, except to say the hunt for a local babysitter for hot dates is back on.  (And, yes, I do work and therefore are not with them all the time...The problem is more a need for one one one time with Bill for actually uninterrupted, non-whispered, undistracted talking.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-931305849622501428?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/931305849622501428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=931305849622501428' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/931305849622501428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/931305849622501428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/05/who-wouldnt-love-to-be-with-these-two.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ShIIzZWUNmI/AAAAAAAAAXE/uqi4MkJNjyc/s72-c/IMG_1976.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1393903655259076938</id><published>2009-05-15T17:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T17:39:51.807-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feminist Work</title><content type='html'>It dawned on me in the shower the other day that all of my professional jobs have been at institutions with feminist (in some way) origins.  Yes, I do all my thinking in the shower. Because I am A. alone and B. awake when I am there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...In college, I interned at Women Strike for Peace - which was born out of a group of mom activists for peace and against nuclear proliferation.  After grad school, I worked at SafePlace, a center for survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault.  Then I went to work at my alma mater, Sarah Lawrence, an institution that pioneered progressive education for women.  And now I work for the Nested Ps, where we talk about women's rights each and every day.  (For the record, I've also been paid to work at ESPN, Subway, various temp agencies - with one assignment to a defense contractor - now THAT was interesting!, a frame shop, and Tesoros - from whence came any Peruvian folk art you bought here in the US.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what do all these place have in common other than feminism?  At each of these places I had amazing female bosses.  I seriously have never had a bad boss in my entire career so far.  And I hope to never have one.  Or be one.  I've had mentiors, friends, teachers, challengers and role models.  How amazing is that?  I can't say these places didn't have some crazy ass people working in them, or that a feminist organization is automatically a healthy and functional workplace.  But I have been oh so lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now that I am a boss, and have almost 2 years of bossing experience, I am finally feeling confident enough in supervising to begin thinking abut how I can be an amazing boss too...  Good thing I have had such great models!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1393903655259076938?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1393903655259076938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1393903655259076938' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1393903655259076938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1393903655259076938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/05/feminist-work.html' title='Feminist Work'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6954869999952875727</id><published>2009-05-10T16:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T16:25:09.436-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best Mother's Day Present Ever</title><content type='html'>Last night, W. slept from 9pm until 5:30am!!  Wahoo!  That's after two nights of 8:30 til 4pm.  I'm sure it won't last - after all, one step forward, two steps back with baby sleep....but still!  What a gift!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also....Bill got me a beautiful necklace with gray/purple pearls and similar colored dangling stones.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids and I took my mom out to brunch in Lake Placid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lovely day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6954869999952875727?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6954869999952875727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6954869999952875727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6954869999952875727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6954869999952875727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/05/best-mothers-day-present-ever.html' title='The Best Mother&apos;s Day Present Ever'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-521111786622825550</id><published>2009-05-04T21:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T21:30:52.122-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Food, Glorious Food</title><content type='html'>Waylon is loving the solid foods....so far he's had rice cereal and sweet potatoes and if I slow down too much in the feeding he HOWLS at me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had another busy weekend...to Burlington on Saturday where we hit Kids Town for diaper covers, gifts for my cousins baby, and books for Eva.  Then to the small boat exchange to drool over a Dovekie.  Anyone want to give us $4k to buy it?  Getting one is now my dream.  And I don't think it's unreasonable, except for all the work our house needs.  After that Bill and E dropped W and I off on Church Street where I shopped unsuccessfully for an hour or so before meeting up with friends for lunch.  More shopping (no buying).  Then I met E and B down at the waterfront where they had been visiting ECHO.  When we got home Bill convinced me to order some clothes online, since I totally dropped the ball on the buying earlier in the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, clean, shop, book club, bed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where does all the time go?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-521111786622825550?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/521111786622825550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=521111786622825550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/521111786622825550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/521111786622825550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/05/food-glorious-food.html' title='Food, Glorious Food'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6752810321908670501</id><published>2009-04-29T20:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T20:29:05.331-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfjvaVp5w-I/AAAAAAAAAW8/QpM5QRX1TwI/s1600-h/IMG_1945.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfjvaVp5w-I/AAAAAAAAAW8/QpM5QRX1TwI/s320/IMG_1945.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330273394761516002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfjvaCLJo9I/AAAAAAAAAW0/JYvUAACIdvQ/s1600-h/IMG_1934.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfjvaCLJo9I/AAAAAAAAAW0/JYvUAACIdvQ/s320/IMG_1934.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330273389532259282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Bill and Lulu were camping on Friday night I enjoyed a relaxing evening at home with a glass of wine, a mug of ice cream and Waylon.  Total bliss.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday we saw our favorite local &lt;a href="http://littleblackbrook.com/music.php"&gt;rock star &lt;/a&gt;play with his band at the Recovery Lounge.  Larry played at our wedding, and we weren't going to miss seeing him...and that he stopped by a few hours before the show to let us know it was happening was even better!  We took the kids and Eva had a ball, and Waylon passed out halfway through the evening...which ended at 9:30 for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday we lounged around the house after breakfast out and then W and I went to Rock Against Rape, a fundraiser for my agency's sexual assault program.  And again he fell asleep right in the middle of loud music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was really a great weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6752810321908670501?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6752810321908670501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6752810321908670501' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6752810321908670501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6752810321908670501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/04/while-bill-and-lulu-were-camping-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfjvaVp5w-I/AAAAAAAAAW8/QpM5QRX1TwI/s72-c/IMG_1945.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3287638255163674217</id><published>2009-04-26T12:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T12:23:07.256-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning at the diner, two men were lamenting the state of our nation.  It's going communist, they said.  Then they started lamenting their own lack of benefits, to which they were "entitled."   Okay then.  It's going communist, but not in the right way I guess.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other socialist news, the federal government paid for our farm share today.  Thanks IRS!  And you are welcome for the interest free loan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3287638255163674217?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3287638255163674217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3287638255163674217' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3287638255163674217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3287638255163674217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/04/this-morning-at-diner-two-men-were.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1941684552783419314</id><published>2009-04-23T15:59:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T16:06:17.441-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Where we've been...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfDJ-gFMMiI/AAAAAAAAAWs/HsgBfVNvIWg/s1600-h/IMG_1885.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfDJ-gFMMiI/AAAAAAAAAWs/HsgBfVNvIWg/s320/IMG_1885.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327980434780074530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfDJ-H-mXAI/AAAAAAAAAWk/9JS1HTY2604/s1600-h/IMG_1920.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfDJ-H-mXAI/AAAAAAAAAWk/9JS1HTY2604/s320/IMG_1920.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327980428309978114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were in Chicago where we visited the giant bean and the Prince lounged on the comfiest hotel bed ever.  Now I have a cold.  More later, I am sure!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1941684552783419314?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1941684552783419314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1941684552783419314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1941684552783419314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1941684552783419314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/04/where-weve-been.html' title='Where we&apos;ve been...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SfDJ-gFMMiI/AAAAAAAAAWs/HsgBfVNvIWg/s72-c/IMG_1885.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3241129062437114602</id><published>2009-04-12T17:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T17:19:17.947-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I want an Easter Egg...I want an Easter Egg</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeJar0W8zJI/AAAAAAAAAWY/2ZgjJbMOAaA/s1600-h/IMG_1850.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeJar0W8zJI/AAAAAAAAAWY/2ZgjJbMOAaA/s320/IMG_1850.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323917418341125266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeJartl6m8I/AAAAAAAAAWQ/9RSB4OdfcDg/s1600-h/IMG_1847.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeJartl6m8I/AAAAAAAAAWQ/9RSB4OdfcDg/s320/IMG_1847.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323917416524848066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeJareMvZnI/AAAAAAAAAWI/Q793pBhH7P4/s1600-h/IMG_1846.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeJareMvZnI/AAAAAAAAAWI/Q793pBhH7P4/s320/IMG_1846.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323917412392724082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hunting for chocolate eggs this morning...in the spitting snow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3241129062437114602?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3241129062437114602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3241129062437114602' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3241129062437114602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3241129062437114602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-want-easter-eggi-want-easter-egg.html' title='I want an Easter Egg...I want an Easter Egg'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeJar0W8zJI/AAAAAAAAAWY/2ZgjJbMOAaA/s72-c/IMG_1850.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5756063041156276820</id><published>2009-04-11T22:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T22:47:43.014-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's Go Fly a Kite</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeFUtHQ3_oI/AAAAAAAAAV4/a_kZf9chBtg/s1600-h/IMG_1829.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeFUtHQ3_oI/AAAAAAAAAV4/a_kZf9chBtg/s400/IMG_1829.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323629368549310082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed up to Point au Roche today to engage in some optimistic spring activities.  The sun was warm, but the wind was cold. Nonetheless, we flew the kite we got in Hatteras a year ago - on the very vacation I found out I was expecting Waylon.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also skipped some stones at the beach, and then hit McSweeney's for lunch.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of this made it any warmer, but it sure got La Lou tired out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeFWMW-aDiI/AAAAAAAAAWA/YPbUUQ-HNMQ/s1600-h/IMG_1830.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeFWMW-aDiI/AAAAAAAAAWA/YPbUUQ-HNMQ/s400/IMG_1830.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323631004854390306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5756063041156276820?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5756063041156276820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5756063041156276820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5756063041156276820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5756063041156276820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/04/lets-go-fly-kite.html' title='Let&apos;s Go Fly a Kite'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SeFUtHQ3_oI/AAAAAAAAAV4/a_kZf9chBtg/s72-c/IMG_1829.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4571341787716656284</id><published>2009-04-06T18:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T18:51:30.273-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Not too complain, but...</title><content type='html'>Three and a half months, not too soon to be sleeping through the night, but not by any means time to expect it.  So I shouldn't complain that Waylon is still waking up numerous times.  But I am gonna.  Because I am bleary eyed and getting a little depressed and I know it is due to lack 'o sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He falls asleep between 9 and 9:30  after a nice bath and cuddling and nursing.  And he sleeps for 3 or 4 hours.  We nurse in bed.  He wakes me up an hour or two later for seconds.  Then he is back to the bassinet til 6 or 6:30.  That time between 1 and 2am is tricky. I am too tired to stay awake, but I don't sleep deeply with him at my side.  If I put him back in the bassinet he is up again in an hour or 2 anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know we have been lucky lately, in that he goes back to sleep very fast after eating, knock wood!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know also that I just need to give it time.  But I am starting to feel drained.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4571341787716656284?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4571341787716656284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4571341787716656284' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4571341787716656284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4571341787716656284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-too-complain-but.html' title='Not too complain, but...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3857496732367462308</id><published>2009-04-05T16:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-05T16:21:50.238-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Look, Mommy!  Baby Water is wrapped up in a blanket, just like Baby Jesus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would think she spent the morning at church, not bird watching with Daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other heathen-ish activities for the today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New York Times reading&lt;br /&gt;Oatmeal Chocolate and Pecan Cookie baking&lt;br /&gt;Homemade BBQ sauce brewing&lt;br /&gt;Brisket slow-cooking&lt;br /&gt;Baby gurgling&lt;br /&gt;Diaper laundering&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3857496732367462308?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3857496732367462308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3857496732367462308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3857496732367462308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3857496732367462308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/04/look-mommy-baby-water-is-wrapped-up-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5683522688522999002</id><published>2009-04-04T10:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T10:08:35.943-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A First for Everything</title><content type='html'>Three years and three months into parenthood and I think I have hit a first:  I noticed Waylon looked sleepy so I picked him up and put him in his bassinet. And he fell asleep without a peep.  Now, I have heard of this happening with other babies, but never believed it could be so!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5683522688522999002?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5683522688522999002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5683522688522999002' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5683522688522999002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5683522688522999002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/04/first-for-everything.html' title='A First for Everything'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1253878565588743715</id><published>2009-03-28T18:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T18:14:49.378-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Up Coon Mountain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sc6hCmalhDI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Hjp4HsXj21Y/s1600-h/IMG_1786.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sc6hCmalhDI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Hjp4HsXj21Y/s400/IMG_1786.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318365276015002674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ignorance IS bliss.  Had we known what the short but rocky hike up Coon Mountain in Westport was like, we might have not done it.  But it turns out the La Lu is a champion hiker!  And Waylon was happy to face out in the Moby on the way out, and in on the way back.  We stayed at the summit for a couple of hours, lunching, hawk and eagle and turkey vulture watching, and greeting every other hiker who came along.  The weather was glorious and in the 60s...Happy Spring!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1253878565588743715?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1253878565588743715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1253878565588743715' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1253878565588743715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1253878565588743715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/up-coon-mountain.html' title='Up Coon Mountain'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sc6hCmalhDI/AAAAAAAAAVw/Hjp4HsXj21Y/s72-c/IMG_1786.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5049499172473095666</id><published>2009-03-27T21:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T21:34:42.665-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Before dinner, I took Eva for a walk around the block.  Sort of.  It's not really a block per se, but it makes a square and it is paved, so I call it the block!  We tossed rocks in the stream of run-off that goes from the woods and through the park.  We squished some mud.  And we went to the playground.  We also marveled at the police activity at the youth center and watched the teenagers play basketball and flirt with one another.  The whole thing was so delightful that I don't care if Waylon doesn't sleep through the night.  Sort of.  It would be nice though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow we plan on hiking Coon Mountain.  Spring feels surer and surer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5049499172473095666?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5049499172473095666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5049499172473095666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5049499172473095666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5049499172473095666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/before-dinner-i-took-eva-for-walk.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6759712712032366771</id><published>2009-03-25T19:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T19:33:39.862-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing</title><content type='html'>Lately I have been feeling an emptiness in the part of me where friendship lives.  My life is so full in so many other ways...family, work, love...but as far as pure girlfriend time goes, I've got nothing.   I have wonderful friends, it is just that I never see them.  And after a while of not seeing them, I feel like distance grows.  If not for the great lunches at work, my once a month book club, and one or two phone calls a week, I'd feel completely alone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet...I just can't seem to figure out how to make friend time in my life.  Getting to book club alone is a feat in and of itself.  Phone calls are interrupted.  A girls' evening out?  I've had one in the past year and a half.  (Work events do NOT count.) 2 small kiddos, rural living far from my existing network of girls, no local babysitter and a husband without a 9-5 work schedule...it all makes it so complicated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a kid, my mom never hung out with her friends.  I always wondered why.  But now I know.  And talking to some of my friends, even the ones without kids, we all seem to have this same problem.   I have one friend, a single mom, who actually goes out and dates and I have no clue how she manages. When I hear about moms with social lives I am completely baffled..how do you do it? Do you talk about things other than kids with your pals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to do what Bill and I always talk about...invite all the people we like over for dinners.  (Not all at once though...I don't want to be that social!)  So expect an invitation if you live within 60 miles of me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6759712712032366771?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6759712712032366771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6759712712032366771' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6759712712032366771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6759712712032366771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/missing.html' title='Missing'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1325731657429423040</id><published>2009-03-21T18:51:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T19:05:49.006-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Judging a Fridge by Its Cover</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScVyKHBzgzI/AAAAAAAAAVo/rO1nq_OTnHs/s1600-h/IMG_1722.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScVyKHBzgzI/AAAAAAAAAVo/rO1nq_OTnHs/s400/IMG_1722.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315780453191615282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScVwncgzFVI/AAAAAAAAAVg/eEA29g_CRmg/s1600-h/IMG_1720.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScVwncgzFVI/AAAAAAAAAVg/eEA29g_CRmg/s400/IMG_1720.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315778758151705938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This fridge couldn't belong to anyone than fly fishing, gun toting, liberal voting, Spongebob watching, fashion loving, nature museum exploring, family picture taking, sarcastic joking, bird watching, toys-that-make-noise hating and loving, small child rearing, mediocre gardening us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, some one wrote sex with the leap frog letters.  But I have no idea if they did it on purpose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1325731657429423040?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1325731657429423040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1325731657429423040' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1325731657429423040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1325731657429423040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/judging-fridge-by-its-cover.html' title='Judging a Fridge by Its Cover'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScVyKHBzgzI/AAAAAAAAAVo/rO1nq_OTnHs/s72-c/IMG_1722.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1385581138467038882</id><published>2009-03-19T18:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T18:48:28.168-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Riding the Wave</title><content type='html'>I realize that the title of this post might make you think I was back to, um,  peak fertility.  But no.  I am instead talking about the wave of motivation I got from the professional association meeting I attended at lunchtime.  I left feeling pumped up anew and ready to tackle the least favorite part of my job....actually asking folks for money.  It's true...I am a professional fundraiser who hates to ask.   Just as 95% of the general public would hate it.  And, I venture to say, probably 90% of my fellow fundraisers.  But we love hearing YES so we do it.  And really, it is not the ask I hate.  It is making the first phone call.  By the time I get to asking I am good to go.  But anyway, a colleague at another organization spoke to us and I left our meeting ready to make all the calls I have been avoiding.  (I also left as treasurer of our association...how did THAT happen?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I got pulled in to read a grant, and had to return three phone calls, and then reschedule a meeting.  Then I had to run to an eye doc appointment.  And to day care.  And so it goes.  I couldn't procrastinate so well I wanted too!  Here's hoping the tide is still high when I get to the office tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I am back to contacts and my face feels nekkid.  Tried hard to get a nice picture of the 3 of us...oh well.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScLLi7kMPdI/AAAAAAAAAVY/Wj4FwA36SXE/s1600-h/Photo+311.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScLLi7kMPdI/AAAAAAAAAVY/Wj4FwA36SXE/s320/Photo+311.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315034311216086482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScLLidGQDRI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/nsMAo9kACgU/s1600-h/Photo+304.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScLLidGQDRI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/nsMAo9kACgU/s320/Photo+304.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315034303037443346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1385581138467038882?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1385581138467038882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1385581138467038882' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1385581138467038882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1385581138467038882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/riding-wave.html' title='Riding the Wave'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScLLi7kMPdI/AAAAAAAAAVY/Wj4FwA36SXE/s72-c/Photo+311.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6997859579551253890</id><published>2009-03-17T20:07:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T20:10:07.402-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScA7nXFmr1I/AAAAAAAAAVI/nhzw3G8gHxg/s1600-h/IMG_1645.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScA7nXFmr1I/AAAAAAAAAVI/nhzw3G8gHxg/s320/IMG_1645.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314313107695644498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this doesn't look like Spring, you have ever experienced a real winter.  Everyday I search for signs.  Softer ice.  Red Winged Black Bird.  The golden tones of a sleeping lawn yawing awake.  We are desperate here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6997859579551253890?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6997859579551253890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6997859579551253890' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6997859579551253890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6997859579551253890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/if-this-doesnt-look-like-spring-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/ScA7nXFmr1I/AAAAAAAAAVI/nhzw3G8gHxg/s72-c/IMG_1645.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-9125884165023093386</id><published>2009-03-15T19:07:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T19:13:00.292-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mud Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sb2LIM5gBhI/AAAAAAAAAVA/PaTzbg1E5So/s1600-h/IMG_1660.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sb2LIM5gBhI/AAAAAAAAAVA/PaTzbg1E5So/s320/IMG_1660.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313556108384667154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sb2LHlNpg6I/AAAAAAAAAU4/qg8QjYoYjYA/s1600-h/IMG_1639.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sb2LHlNpg6I/AAAAAAAAAU4/qg8QjYoYjYA/s320/IMG_1639.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313556097731756962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sb2LGxCSGMI/AAAAAAAAAUw/HQEQ6t8WQ_Y/s1600-h/IMG_1671.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sb2LGxCSGMI/AAAAAAAAAUw/HQEQ6t8WQ_Y/s320/IMG_1671.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313556083725441218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-9125884165023093386?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/9125884165023093386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=9125884165023093386' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/9125884165023093386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/9125884165023093386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/mud-season.html' title='Mud Season'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sb2LIM5gBhI/AAAAAAAAAVA/PaTzbg1E5So/s72-c/IMG_1660.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1410961590691506048</id><published>2009-03-14T16:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T17:03:34.351-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Date night</title><content type='html'>The gods smiled and between the subsiding of sinus pain and a beginning of a migraine I was able to pig out at A Single Pebble and rock out to Lucinda Williams.  She has a voice like you wouldn't believe live.  Her recorded voice is good, but live?  So amazing.  And you can not beating eating grown up food and adult drinks with your beloved, and without kids once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as you can't beat fun with photo booth and a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sbwbi5JS7mI/AAAAAAAAAUo/gGLeogMHmNk/s1600-h/Photo+290.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sbwbi5JS7mI/AAAAAAAAAUo/gGLeogMHmNk/s320/Photo+290.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313151946659655266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1410961590691506048?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1410961590691506048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1410961590691506048' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1410961590691506048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1410961590691506048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/date-night.html' title='Date night'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/Sbwbi5JS7mI/AAAAAAAAAUo/gGLeogMHmNk/s72-c/Photo+290.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8476829216573125494</id><published>2009-03-12T19:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T19:54:06.664-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Making an Effort</title><content type='html'>When E was 9 months old I wrote this on my blog...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I've been trying to Make An Effort. You know, actually put some product in my hair, wear shoes with heels (instead on Danskos everyday), dress semi-professionally. And I think it's working. This, along with the weight loss, is making me feel a little better about myself. Because my self-image since becoming a mom is at an all time low...probably because so much of my life has been tied to my body since April of last year. When you are pregnant its ALL about the body and how much you've gained and how big you look and how you feel and so on. Then, the nursing business, which I've written about before. Team that with how you feel physically when sleep deprived and you've got a match made in hell. I've been in mourning lately for the body I never really enjoyed when I had it. I used to brush off compliments, and was never that comfortable showing off my assets, as it were. And now I wish I had revelled in that hot bod! So I need to start being happier with the one I have now, which gets better everyday. I just wish I could shrink my belly skin the way you shrink a sweater...If I could take a hot shower and then hit my tummy with the blowdryer and make it tight again, that would be awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took me every minute of those 9 months to get where I am less than 3 months after Way's birth.  It's a total change in expectations, I think.  And also a different pregnancy and 20 lbs less weight gain.  I just wish we weren't broke now so I could buy clothes.  I anm trying to be creative with the 10 things that fit, but I'm no stylist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8476829216573125494?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8476829216573125494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8476829216573125494' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8476829216573125494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8476829216573125494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/making-effort.html' title='Making an Effort'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2007193494824476320</id><published>2009-03-11T20:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T20:20:53.504-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Everytime I go to blog someone starts to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while I can cure most of Waylon's crying with the boob, it is hard to type one handed.  Which reminds me of what I wanted to blog about...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have about a weeks worth of breast milk in my freezer.  And I am only now, almost three months in, convinced that my supply is not going to be a problem like it was with Eva.  I pump more than he can eat at daycare, a full 4 to 5 ozs more.  Part of this is that when I drop him off I feed him and that holds him til noon, so he only has time for two bottles during the day care day.  But with Eva, one session would hold her an hour or two,at most, so we supplemented.  She was well into half formula feedings by three months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also become bolder in my public nursing, thanks to experience and the Moby Wrap.  I share a list of were I have nursed him thus far...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at the mall&lt;br /&gt;in the grocery store - while still shopping&lt;br /&gt;on the exam table at my doctor's office.  during a pap smear.&lt;br /&gt;in the Saranac Lake ice palace&lt;br /&gt;on the side of Main Street in SL watching a parade&lt;br /&gt;while hiking&lt;br /&gt;in countless restaurants&lt;br /&gt;in my office&lt;br /&gt;in the conference room at work while meeting with a co-worker&lt;br /&gt;during conference calls&lt;br /&gt;on the ski slopes at whiteface (I was  NOT on skis)&lt;br /&gt;while writing this blog post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2007193494824476320?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2007193494824476320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2007193494824476320' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2007193494824476320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2007193494824476320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/everytime-i-go-to-blog-someone-starts.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5315194081121681094</id><published>2009-03-07T16:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T16:03:35.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh well...I did some cooking, but wasn't as nearly as productive as I thought I would be.  Instead, I remembered that I had a blog before the one I had before this one!  And I spent a bunch of time reading the &lt;a href="http://momomama.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html"&gt;me of 6 years ago&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5315194081121681094?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5315194081121681094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5315194081121681094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5315194081121681094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5315194081121681094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-well.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5058685880558251748</id><published>2009-03-07T10:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T10:16:29.959-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Silence is Golden</title><content type='html'>Spring must be coming to Winkytown. The red wing black birds have been seen (but not by me), I can see all the mud in the driveway and in front of the house, and Bill is counting down til fishing season.  He took La Lou off to Saratoga to a paddlesports show today and Waylon and I have plans for cleaning and cooking and cooing and pooping.  Maybe even some more blogging.  Oh how I love the quiet that is only ONE screaming child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5058685880558251748?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5058685880558251748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5058685880558251748' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5058685880558251748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5058685880558251748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/silence-is-golden.html' title='Silence is Golden'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8042222622811672861</id><published>2009-03-03T20:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T20:19:40.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Unrelated, I swear</title><content type='html'>What I am about to say might seem to be related to the last post, but I swear that it is not:  I hate being touched right now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read about this when I was nursing Eva, but never experienced it.  But this time...oh my lord.  When we get home Way wants to be on me, touching me, nursing all the time til he goes to bed.  By the time he is snug in his bassinet, I can't get alone enough! And this may make me a bad person/mom to admit, but I especially get annoyed with Eva touching me these days.  I am all about our kisses and hugs, but the rest of the hanging-on-me-like-a-monkey makes me INSANE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get over it by the middle of the night though, since I keep waking up smooshed up against Bill.  Or maybe I am just being a bed hog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8042222622811672861?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8042222622811672861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8042222622811672861' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8042222622811672861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8042222622811672861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/unrelated-i-swear.html' title='Unrelated, I swear'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4539336867229052359</id><published>2009-03-01T13:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T13:52:06.714-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Husband...</title><content type='html'>My darling, &lt;br /&gt;Please know that when forced to decide between pillow talk and the longest stretch amount of uninterrupted sleep I've had since December...I will choose the sleep. It doesn't mean I don't love you.  It means go write whatever it is down so you can tell me in morning.  Love you to bits!&lt;br /&gt;Your wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And not to be greedy, but when is my boy going to sleep eight hour stretches?  I would never have dreamed of asking that of La Lou at 11 weeks, but I know he has it in him.  He's such a good sleeper and hardly nurses at all at 2am.  But he still wakes and cries.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4539336867229052359?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4539336867229052359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4539336867229052359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4539336867229052359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4539336867229052359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/03/dear-husband.html' title='Dear Husband...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4264917603998117214</id><published>2009-02-28T11:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T11:23:21.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We made it through the week, and I got to sleep in until 8 this morning.  I was more productive at work this week than I thought I could possibly.  But less productive at home.  Oh well!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4264917603998117214?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4264917603998117214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4264917603998117214' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4264917603998117214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4264917603998117214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/we-made-it-through-week-and-i-got-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-7142931877199095694</id><published>2009-02-25T19:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T19:55:48.227-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Week</title><content type='html'>Well, we have made it more than halfway through my first week at work.  I already am feeling in the groove when I am in the office.  Too bad I feel so out of it the rest of time!  I now must get up at 5:30 in order to get out the door by 7:15, so we can get to the sitter's house by 8 to have time to nurse, so I can get to work 5 minutes early to do a spit up check.  The first day Waylon spit up at 7:12 and we didn't get out til 7:25. Then I leaked all over myself during the day care nursing session.  Then he spit up on my sleeve.  My sitter gave me a spare shirt in case I started to smell like rotten milk by lunchtime, but I made it through the day (and made sure my cardigan was always closed!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday was much smoother.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The evening is just as busy.  Thank GOD Bill is not working and can make dinner for us to eat when we get home at 6.  (Yes, it is nearly an 11 hour day.)  Then Waylon only wants to be nursed and held by ME until he falls asleep at 9 or 10.    And he's up at 2, usually, to nurse.  I just let him stay in bed with us til 5:30.  But I sure would like it better if we could see more 4am, or even 5am, wakeups.  He did it a few times when I was on leave...Even if I go to bed 5 minutes after he does, I am still not prepared to wake to feed.  This morning I heard him crying for a while, and half asleep, wondered why Eva sounded different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But overall we have done okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sitter had a rough day today, though.  He napped very little and cried a lot.  Is it totally wrong that I hope this means he will sleep well tonight?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-7142931877199095694?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/7142931877199095694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=7142931877199095694' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7142931877199095694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7142931877199095694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-week.html' title='This Week'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3131497684487876897</id><published>2009-02-20T11:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T11:58:56.791-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Work</title><content type='html'>I am going back to work on Monday and I am pretty happy about that. As I've written before, I love my job.  It is something that makes a real difference in my community, and it is something I am deeply passionate about.  (see my post on contraception for evidence...)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My organization is in the midst of a huge and exciting change and I've been feeling out of the loop and can't wait to get in on the excitement.  There's a big meeting with our Board tomorrow that I was excited to attend.  Bill and I had an elaborate plan for him and the kids while I was in the 6 and half hour meeting.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Waylon went and got sick.  I've spent the last few days trying to figure out whether or not I would be able to go to the meeting.  Finally Bill sat me down and explained why I wasn't going to go. I feel horrible about it, and like the worst employee in the world calling my boss to tell her.  Why?  It doesn't even really make sense to feel bad, seeing as I am on leave until Monday...But there it was...the godawful working mom guilt.  Worse than ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3131497684487876897?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3131497684487876897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3131497684487876897' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3131497684487876897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3131497684487876897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/back-to-work.html' title='Back to Work'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5356996724221974523</id><published>2009-02-19T15:33:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T15:43:13.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2 Months Old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZ3CUAxS2kI/AAAAAAAAAUg/14X7LaVsn-Q/s1600-h/IMG_1600.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 244px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZ3CUAxS2kI/AAAAAAAAAUg/14X7LaVsn-Q/s320/IMG_1600.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304609585172240962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5356996724221974523?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5356996724221974523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5356996724221974523' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5356996724221974523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5356996724221974523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/2-months-old.html' title='2 Months Old'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZ3CUAxS2kI/AAAAAAAAAUg/14X7LaVsn-Q/s72-c/IMG_1600.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8912738859783752281</id><published>2009-02-19T15:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T15:16:13.186-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Sick</title><content type='html'>Still coughing and puking up feedings but less than before...We planned to go to Burlington today, but decided Plattsburgh was aas good as it was getting, in case he was planning on not being able to keep anything down.  In other words, we only want to be one outfit change away.  We made it just fine, thank you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8912738859783752281?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8912738859783752281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8912738859783752281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8912738859783752281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8912738859783752281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/still-sick.html' title='Still Sick'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4982038291688765454</id><published>2009-02-17T15:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T15:56:37.761-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor Baby</title><content type='html'>Waylon's cough is back and worse.  Last night he had a bluish cast to the area around his mouth, so he went in for his 2 month check up a day early today.  He is being tested for whooping cough, and if he turns blue again, we are to call right away and bring him in for observation at the hospital.  (The pediatrician offered that to me today, but said if I wanted to just keep him at home that was fine too, so that is what we are doing.)  Poor feller.  He managed to get out of his shots today by being sick...too bad he has to get them next week anyway!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4982038291688765454?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4982038291688765454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4982038291688765454' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4982038291688765454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4982038291688765454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/poor-baby.html' title='Poor Baby'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-2734620522960324420</id><published>2009-02-13T17:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T17:42:19.758-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Contraceptive Contraption Conundrum</title><content type='html'>Today I went to the ob's office to get myself 5 years of worry free contraception.  And I ended up with just over 5 minutes of worry free contraception.  I has a mirena inserted, but unfortunately my uterus is tipped in such away that the doc couldn't place it properly.  It actually went into the muscle wall of the uterus and had to be removed, so it wouldn't, you know, migrate into my abdominal cavity. So much for that.  She said we could try again after more time has passed post-partum, but by then Bill should have had the Big V.  I refuse to go back on the pill, for the sake of my milk.  And the mini-pill is not an option  I got pregnant on it when Eva was 9 months old (I knew I was pregnant for a day, and then miscarried.)  So it's back to condoms.  Which I got pregnant while NOT always using when Eva was 6 months old.  This time Bill will be more diligent.  I have baby fever and can not be trusted!  But I am letting cooler heads prevail and sticking with 2, thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all this leads me to ask a question we often discuss at my office...how is it that there is no perfect form of birth control for me right now?  And by for me, I also mean for a huge number of women in this world.  Yes, there are wonderful technologies, but they aren't 100% effective and there are many reasons why individual women can't use any number of them.  I have friends who have latex allergies, who can't use hormones, who don't want permanent sterilization, who have funny shaped uteri...We all struggle to find the pill that makes us not crazy or fat, to find a spermicide that doesn't cause burning, to find a method that okay until we quit smoking, to convince a doc to give us an IUD or tie our tubes even though we've never had kids,  Then we have to deal with assholes judging our choices made from limited options.  Fuck that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gee, maybe it is time for me to get to work and channel this anger into good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-2734620522960324420?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/2734620522960324420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=2734620522960324420' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2734620522960324420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/2734620522960324420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/contraceptive-contraption-conundrum.html' title='Contraceptive Contraption Conundrum'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-7792117212120381570</id><published>2009-02-12T05:40:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T05:50:27.744-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling More Like Human</title><content type='html'>Why oh why is going back to sleep after a nighttime feeding so tough?  While I complain about this now, Tuesday night was glorious (at least from my perspective.)  Sure, Waylon cried "the entire time" I was off seeing &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Slumdog Millionaire&lt;/span&gt; (alone, how I love to go to the movies alone! And that is now one of my all time favorite movies.)  But when I got home at 9:30 I topped him off and he slept til 4, nursed in bed and slept beside me til 8!  That, and our plans for a walk around Mirror Lake in 50 degree weather MUST be why he is smiling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZP-JcRTJqI/AAAAAAAAAUY/EyjFenoVd9w/s1600-h/IMG_1558.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZP-JcRTJqI/AAAAAAAAAUY/EyjFenoVd9w/s320/IMG_1558.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301860624506234530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZP-JSYzClI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/ihGTViO9tqQ/s1600-h/IMG_1552.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZP-JSYzClI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/ihGTViO9tqQ/s320/IMG_1552.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301860621853330002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is EXACTLY how BIll looks when watching tv.  Please also note that they are HOLDING HANDS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-7792117212120381570?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/7792117212120381570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=7792117212120381570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7792117212120381570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7792117212120381570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/feeling-more-like-human.html' title='Feeling More Like Human'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZP-JcRTJqI/AAAAAAAAAUY/EyjFenoVd9w/s72-c/IMG_1558.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1340771116657708794</id><published>2009-02-10T16:09:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T16:29:41.769-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter Fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZHtnmtoABI/AAAAAAAAAUI/svl3BXS_xMc/s1600-h/IMG_1544.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZHtnmtoABI/AAAAAAAAAUI/svl3BXS_xMc/s320/IMG_1544.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301279501054378002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahoy, matey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZHtnbvfbCI/AAAAAAAAAUA/TzRt-qlx3Fo/s1600-h/IMG_1539.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZHtnbvfbCI/AAAAAAAAAUA/TzRt-qlx3Fo/s320/IMG_1539.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301279498109414434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queen of the castle...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZHtnTHsAGI/AAAAAAAAAT4/BOyQWbrW21Q/s1600-h/IMG_1533.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZHtnTHsAGI/AAAAAAAAAT4/BOyQWbrW21Q/s320/IMG_1533.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301279495794983010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ski lessons with Rachel...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1340771116657708794?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1340771116657708794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1340771116657708794' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1340771116657708794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1340771116657708794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/winter-fun.html' title='Winter Fun'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SZHtnmtoABI/AAAAAAAAAUI/svl3BXS_xMc/s72-c/IMG_1544.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-7717833025405310202</id><published>2009-02-08T04:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T04:30:51.907-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The children were nestled...</title><content type='html'>Only they weren't.  4:23 am and NO ONE is nestled snug in his or her bed tonight.  Eva's been up about five times tonight, as has Waylon,  Surprisingly only one of those times was the SAME time.  Bill is currently snozing while i handle this go-round.  But I hear movement above as either my brother-in-law or nephew (who will be stayng with us until his stuff for is new apartment in Lake Placid AND his truck arrive) go to the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a great day today at the saranac Lake winter carnival.  We came home to rest and then to dinner with the intention of hitting the fireworks after, but we were running late.  But we totally won that round of parental lucking out:  we happened to spot some fireworks in Placid as we enroute to missing the SL show and we convinced Eva the fireworks she watched from the side of the road were the ones we intended to show her along.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-7717833025405310202?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/7717833025405310202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=7717833025405310202' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7717833025405310202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7717833025405310202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/02/children-were-nestled.html' title='The children were nestled...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3188766371988983737</id><published>2009-01-25T19:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T19:13:12.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Waylon has an awful cough that sounds like a shout and Eva's pulling the magnets and all they hold off of the fridge.  We have serious cabin fever.  I just leave Facebook open all day so I can see that there is a world outside of our house.  With people in it.  It doesn't help that i am reading &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Stand&lt;/span&gt; for book club.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3188766371988983737?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3188766371988983737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3188766371988983737' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3188766371988983737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3188766371988983737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/waylon-has-awful-cough-that-sounds-like.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-5940478133688404214</id><published>2009-01-24T13:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T13:14:11.837-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Eva has imaginary friends.  They are called "the Boys and Goyuls."  I like to ask her about them. At least one is named Herher, Herher has spots.  One of the boys is an expert at getting me out of jail. (The "Mean Goyul Eva" puts me in jail.)  I just asked her what the others names are but she said "I don't want to tell you.  Ok.  Somes is named the Honeys."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its too damn cold to do anything today and I risked frostbite just loading the groceries and the kids into the car. (Not in that order, of course.)  Bill and I now playing a game called "Where Should We Move."  In a few (or more) short (or long) months, we will have forgotten that game.  I am already feeling sad we won't be taking a spring vacation anywhere warmer this year.  May is too far away!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-5940478133688404214?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/5940478133688404214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=5940478133688404214' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5940478133688404214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/5940478133688404214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/eva-has-imaginary-friends.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8662739779856701828</id><published>2009-01-20T23:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T23:27:47.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Magic Carpet Ride</title><content type='html'>If you ask La Lou, today she made a pizza and took a magic carpet ride.  If you ask me, she had her first ever ski lesson at Whiteface.  I wasn't there to see it, but she's going again next week and I will go then and take pictures.   Instead, I stayed home and mopped the kitchen floor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8662739779856701828?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8662739779856701828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8662739779856701828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8662739779856701828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8662739779856701828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/magic-carpet-ride.html' title='Magic Carpet Ride'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-7903875393894608513</id><published>2009-01-18T08:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T09:00:28.294-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Waylon &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SXM1WGOd0VI/AAAAAAAAATc/F5sWD0JUzuw/s1600-h/IMG_1430.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SXM1WGOd0VI/AAAAAAAAATc/F5sWD0JUzuw/s200/IMG_1430.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292632640835146066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eva La Lou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SXM1Vvz9OsI/AAAAAAAAATU/MwSh3ah-RUQ/s1600-h/bouncychair.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SXM1Vvz9OsI/AAAAAAAAATU/MwSh3ah-RUQ/s200/bouncychair.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292632634818378434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They don't look anything alike, do they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waylon is a month old today, and gave us (ok, his DAD, his first smile this morning.) We'll try and capture it on film, but it might be tough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our house is now warm, and our water is flowing.  The last few days were HAIRY.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-7903875393894608513?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/7903875393894608513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=7903875393894608513' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7903875393894608513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/7903875393894608513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/eva-la-lou-waylon-they-dont-look.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SXM1WGOd0VI/AAAAAAAAATc/F5sWD0JUzuw/s72-c/IMG_1430.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6324546244891585132</id><published>2009-01-15T12:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T12:53:46.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When it rains...</title><content type='html'>Sub zero temps and Bill in Rhode Island on a hunting trip:  not a good combination.  Last night at 11 I heard the heat come on,  But 10 minutes later I realized it was no longer on.  A trip to the thermostat confirmed my sinking feeling:  no heat. So I called the furnace company and then Bill.  Only one of those phones was answered, and Bill asked me what he wanted him to do.  I hated to have him come home, so I insisted he stay.  We toughed it out on the couch all night and the furnace guy called me back at 8am (and he had tried to call in the night, but wrote our number down wrong.)  He came, he saw, he fixed.  Not ten minutes after he left, I was on the phone with Bill, shutting off the space heater in the bathroom, when I heard POURING water.  A deluge on my washing machine.  Which froze when it hit the floor.  (NB:  If you come to visit you must bring slippers...)  "COME HOME!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the split pipe is fixed, thanks to our pal Tom.  I feel bad that Bill called off the last 3 days of his hunt, but it is not getting any warmer and Eva peed her pants three  times between 8 and 10. I've had enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6324546244891585132?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6324546244891585132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6324546244891585132' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6324546244891585132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6324546244891585132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/when-it-rains.html' title='When it rains...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4852615131852706502</id><published>2009-01-13T08:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T09:05:20.907-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eva Turns 3</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was La Lou's THIRD birthday, which I find very hard to believe.  It feels like she was a baby and I blinked and now she's so big.  And when I blink again she'll be 6 and Way will be 3.  Wow.  She loved talking to her cousins and all of her grandparents yesterday.  She was giggling over all the singing and she wished everyone a Happy Birthday right back.  But my lord, what do I do with all the toys????  I should warn folks planning babies about having birthdays close to Xmas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill's off to Rhode Island til Sunday, and I am not looking forward to this week.  Sub zero temps..highs in the single digits, no adult help at home til Friday.  I'm easily frustrated by the birthday girl as of late and none of this will help.  I am feeling pretty sorry for myself.  Especially since E was up til 10 and woke at 5:30 this am.  Yawn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4852615131852706502?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4852615131852706502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4852615131852706502' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4852615131852706502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4852615131852706502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/eva-turns-3.html' title='Eva Turns 3'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1707352049215665268</id><published>2009-01-11T22:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T22:39:14.447-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Duet</title><content type='html'>It was just after dinner tonight, right before seven, when I was sitting at the kitchen table getting my diaper bag ready for tomorrow and i realized Waylon was snoring a little.  He was sacked out in the bouncy seat on the table.  But I was also hearing something else.  It took me a minute to realize it was Eva.  Also snoring, just on the other side of the wall.  When I peeked into the living room she was slumped over in a chair...drooling. She can't have been asleep long, because I sent her off not ten minutes before to watch Max ad Ruby while I decorated her birthday cake. (3!!!!)  It's a monkey cake.  I drew Boots on it with icing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hated to wake her.  But I did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so pleased that my kids snore in the EXACT SAME WAY.  He's just a little louder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1707352049215665268?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1707352049215665268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1707352049215665268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1707352049215665268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1707352049215665268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/duet.html' title='Duet'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-6647424637907810763</id><published>2009-01-10T20:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:17:45.237-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time flies</title><content type='html'>Where does the day go?  With nothing on my calendar I expected the days to drag, but instead they fly by.  Probably because I always seem to be running out of time to get things done...naps end too quickly, a peaceful moment of swinging and quiet activity pass by before I can get to finishing the dishes AND sweeping the floor.  I know they say to let the housework go, but I am battling mice and we all know that they love to SHIT on things and that can't be "let go."  Right now I should be getting the laundry out of the dryer do Waylon can get his pjs on.  And I should also be looking for a few spare nursing pads as the box is empty and a leaky night approaches.  Instead, I am standing at the counter typing, listening to Waylon grunting in the pack and play and not hearing noise from La Lou's room (we are warily optimistic about getting to bed tonight!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-6647424637907810763?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/6647424637907810763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=6647424637907810763' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6647424637907810763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/6647424637907810763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/time-flies.html' title='Time flies'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8775132082952023523</id><published>2009-01-09T19:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T19:49:49.225-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SWfwV9c2VdI/AAAAAAAAASw/wP9THX1LZRA/s1600-h/Photo+300.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SWfwV9c2VdI/AAAAAAAAASw/wP9THX1LZRA/s200/Photo+300.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289460547433420242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shoe was successfully extracted.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today La Lou went to day care so that I could run errands with Waylon...but of course I forgot the one thing I wanted to get without her...her birthday present.  What good is a tricycle in winter anyway?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8775132082952023523?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8775132082952023523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8775132082952023523' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8775132082952023523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8775132082952023523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/shoe-was-successfully-extracted.html' title=''/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SWfwV9c2VdI/AAAAAAAAASw/wP9THX1LZRA/s72-c/Photo+300.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3712433555070365910</id><published>2009-01-08T14:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T14:50:11.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stats</title><content type='html'>3 weeks: 10lbs 14oz.&lt;br /&gt;3 years: 32lbs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Junior Miss is acting out.  And was displaying UTIish symptoms yesterday, so she was at the doc's this am even though we were there yesterday for Young Master.  No UTI, but he wanted to check below deck to make sure she hadn't put anything anywhere it shouldn't be.  (Please know that I HATE euphemisms, but I really don't want folks googling about kids' Georgia O'Keefe's and ending up here...)  I said, "This one?  The one who had to have surgery to remove wet paper balls fom her nose?  NEVER!"  All clear, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I should not have been surprised when she interrupted my afternoon shower to tell me Ariel's shoe was up her nose. So now she and Bill are back at the doctor's!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3712433555070365910?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3712433555070365910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3712433555070365910' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3712433555070365910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3712433555070365910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/stats.html' title='The Stats'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4850450759070589609</id><published>2009-01-05T18:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T20:54:15.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Last Nerve</title><content type='html'>Today was rough day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way slept well last night, except for some fussy feeding (he just refused to latch on.)  But he was very fussy all morning and wasn't content to be set down anywhere for more than 10 minutes at a time. And the amazing Moby Wrap was in the wash.  La Lou was super whiny and clingy.  We had a nice visit to our day care provider's house this afternoon, but when we came home Way was back to fussy and Bill was just getting up.  All I wanted to do was go to the post office.  Instead Bill was huffing and puffing about the kitchen being a mess.  Like it doesn't annoy me too.  Really, it's all about the fact that he works a 6pm to 6am shift and is sleeping from 7 til 3 every day.  Which gives us 2 and a half hours with him.  And he is getting ready for the half hour of that.  IT SUCKS AND I HATE IT. So there. And also he doesn't do anything for me in those 2 hours other than bring in wood.  Unless I tell him what to do, and then I get an "I have to get ready for work."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just felt like my house and the kids and Bill were like waves rushing over me all day long.  Just when I felt like I had a bit of a foothold, it all came crashing down. Again. And again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After dinner was even worse.  Bill was gone, but baby was fussy, Eva was destructive, and I banged my head on a shelf in the kitchen.  I have a hard enough time keeping Eva on track WITHOUT  a baby A.) in my arms or B.) screaming in the background.  In the time I was trying to get dinner picked up and Waylon fed she ripped the cover of a brand new book off, got under the kitchen table and ripped apart some styrofoam she found there, and peed on the bathroom floor (as well as on a bathmat, her pants, her socks, and her underwear.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she's in bed but Way is crying and still needs a bath.  (And he REALLY needs one, or I would skip it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so on.  At least tomorrow is Bill's day off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edited to add:  And so on.  Eva was laughing hysterically in her room with the light on.  I went in to turn it off and she was shredding a book that I had put on the TOP shelf of her armoire.  At least it wasn't a NEW one.  I was furious.  FURIOUS.  I don't think I have ever been that mad at anyone.  Ever.  So I told her no tv tomorrow.  Is that even a good punishment?  Fuck if I know!  I have no clue what I am doing here, folks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4850450759070589609?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4850450759070589609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4850450759070589609' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4850450759070589609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4850450759070589609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/last-nerve.html' title='The Last Nerve'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-4100166641882165441</id><published>2009-01-02T17:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T17:59:17.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Noisy Boy</title><content type='html'>I have the noisiest baby EVER.  He squeaks and glugs when he nurses.  He grunts and groans when he's asleep.  And he whines and wails when he has gas.  But he's not a big crier, so there's that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bedtime report:  Eva was in bed by nine...just 40 minutes late. Of course we started 40 minutes early...And Waylon was asleep by 9:15. But I made the mistake of staying up til 11 and you know babies can smell weakness, so Way decided to stay awake for 2 hours after his 1 am feeding.  Whining and wailing of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get out of the house more.  It's just SO DAMN COLD!  I want to walk.  I could put Eva in the stroller and carry Waylon in the Moby if it would just get over 30 degrees.  Bill likes to remind me how UNLIKELY that is.  But I am counting on January thaw around E's birthday...we've had it for the last 3 years!  We have been watching way too much tv. And with Bill working nights I am attempting to keep the volume on E down during his sleeping hours (7 til 2 or 3).  It sucks.  There's no children's museum close by either.  I have a feeling we will be headed to the mall (which is TINY) tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did get out today and drove to Peru to see a Northern Hawk Owl, very rare, that's been hanging out there.  Eva was THRILLED because the owl LOOKED at her!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-4100166641882165441?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/4100166641882165441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=4100166641882165441' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4100166641882165441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/4100166641882165441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/noisy-boy.html' title='Noisy Boy'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-8568171979914688503</id><published>2009-01-01T18:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T18:29:40.522-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just the three of us...</title><content type='html'>We've been home alone for almost an hour and Way has been asleep the whole time.  Bill is back at work after his two nights off.  Which means I have to do Eva's bedtime.  I can't quite figure out how that one will work if W is awake around then.  The plan is to start her a little early and hope that it gets her in bed by the normal time.  Then Way will get his bath.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone have advice on doing dual bedtimes solo?  I know it will get worse as Way's bedtime comes to mean something and La Lou moves upstairs. But that will be after ski season in over, so we will tag team more often (though fishing season keeps Bill out late too...)  Share your secrets!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an unrelated front, La Lou ASKED for SECONDS at dinner tonight.  Apparently she LOVES roast beef.  She told me so!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-8568171979914688503?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/8568171979914688503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=8568171979914688503' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8568171979914688503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/8568171979914688503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-three-of-us.html' title='Just the three of us...'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-1827737872441412514</id><published>2008-12-30T13:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T13:35:43.897-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On Our Own</title><content type='html'>My mom headed home this afternoon...but not before I figured how to use the Moby Wrap that I got for Xmas from Bill.  I've actually been doing laundry since she left and get this...I HAVE TWO HANDS for typing!  We also have a baby bjorn (which Eva loved) and a mei tai, which she loved too but that she was too big for soon after we got it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we'll need to figure out how to do bedtime but I have til Thursday to figure that out since Bill has tonight and tomorrow night off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, we spent yesterday afternoon at the hospital, getting a scan on my leg.  I have a sharp calf pain and that is a red flag post-partum because it can indicate a blood clot.  I saw Midwife K and she thought it was probably ok (and so did I) but we couldn't be sure so off to radiology!  It turned out to be fine (could be tendonitis) and la Lou was a champ...she was soooo good for Grandma while they waited for me in the three different waiting rooms over the course of 2 hours.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also managed to have a mini-breakdown in the grocery store AND to breastfeed a man out of a room.  The funny thing was that  he didn't seem to realize I was nursing until well after the danger of him catching a glimpse of boob had passed.  But when he figured it out he skedaddled!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS We would love to have visitors!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-1827737872441412514?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/1827737872441412514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=1827737872441412514' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1827737872441412514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/1827737872441412514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2008/12/on-our-own.html' title='On Our Own'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1775723877890295280.post-3735415267095382420</id><published>2008-12-26T18:56:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T19:13:13.148-05:00</updated><title type='text'>6:56pm and Tear Free</title><content type='html'>It's a new record! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been surviving pretty well, other than being seriously irritable.  I'm grieving the end of being a mom to an only child, and mourning the loss of only-childness for my daughter (who is also occasionally upset about that as well.)  It's really hard to watch her be upset and know that we did something that is making her hurt, even though it is a good thing overall.  She's had a few meltdowns.  I'm trying to give her as much attention as I can, but that's not much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Way is sleeping pretty well...we did have  one night where he slept in his bassinet between feedings, other nights it's a combo of bassinet, pack and play, and on my chest on the couch.  We both sleep the most on the couch together so that's the default.  The night before last was tough and made for an unhappy Christmas for me.  (Lots of expletives around the cooking of dinner and lots  of tears by 6pm.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But overall things are going well.  My mom and I took the kids to lunch at Friendly's and then to the mall to buy me a new nursing bra (I've surpassed the DDs!) and some nursing tops.  Way rode in the Bjorn and La Lou drove the race car stroller.  Nursing is going wonderfully, whereas last time I was just having my milk come in on Day 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill is now at work, for his second night snowmaking on Whiteface.  A late start this year, but that worked out well!  I am just dreading after New Year's when my mom is gone and it's just me and two kids at Lulu's bedtime.  We'll cross that bridge when we come to it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SVVyZh8Xv4I/AAAAAAAAASo/AkcW1wCTUxc/s1600-h/IMG_1383.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SVVyZh8Xv4I/AAAAAAAAASo/AkcW1wCTUxc/s200/IMG_1383.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284255520723025794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1775723877890295280-3735415267095382420?l=raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/feeds/3735415267095382420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1775723877890295280&amp;postID=3735415267095382420' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3735415267095382420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1775723877890295280/posts/default/3735415267095382420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://raisingbebelulu.blogspot.com/2008/12/656pm-and-tear-free.html' title='6:56pm and Tear Free'/><author><name>Martha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08795711708528857303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SW-z-nOG0eI/AAAAAAAAAS8/6mz56VHc4jk/S220/Photo+300.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bZ5r2s2NB2c/SVVyZh8Xv4I/AAAAAAAAASo/AkcW1wCTUxc/s72-c/IMG_1383.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
