<?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-6191245306284235524</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:38:04.546-07:00</updated><category term='husband'/><category term='com.motionblog.ca'/><category term='Keith'/><category term='Ste. Anne&apos;s Spa'/><category term='books'/><category term='professional blogger'/><category term='popular theatre'/><category term='C.J.'/><category term='boal'/><title type='text'>themommyjob</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-4036649101715320301</id><published>2008-09-08T13:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T18:08:31.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>World Literacy Day</title><content type='html'>My younger son started preschool today and I found it difficult to leave him.  I recall being hesitant to send my older son but knew that it was the right thing to do... so it made me wonder at my reluctance.  And, while meeting with the speech therapist, it struck me... B cannot talk and he does very little in the way of communication.  He cries... or smiles.  How would he tell them what he wants?&lt;br /&gt;I have few difficulties at home because I know him like no other person possibly could.  I know his routines, what he likes to eat, when he's starting to get tired, how he likes to be held.  I know his favorite toys and how to burp him properly.  It's impossible for me to convey all of this to one caregiver.  And so I had to trust the system.&lt;br /&gt;The speech therapist has referred us to the Hanen Centre and we are waiting for an appropriate program to start (hopefully without too much of a wait).  Having inherited the "Now" gene from my mother, I went home and looked up the website.  The Hanen Centre has several different programs for encouraging communication and literacy.  My older son was always an excellent communicator: early talker, started reading books on his own at 4.5 and is now learning french.  I have always taken for granted that talking was innate and would come without specific encouragement.&lt;br /&gt;I hope that, in time, I will learn the right things to do to help my son reach his full potential, whatever that may be.&lt;br /&gt;It is a reminder to me, though, that literacy is a gift and a privelege that is not to be wasted.&lt;br /&gt;For more information:  www.hanen.org.&lt;br /&gt;They also have a &lt;a href="http://hanen.org/calendar"&gt;preschool language and literacy calendar available&lt;/a&gt;, with tips on encouraging speech and communication.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-4036649101715320301?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/4036649101715320301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=4036649101715320301&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4036649101715320301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4036649101715320301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2008/09/world-literacy-day.html' title='World Literacy Day'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-4709817312770094735</id><published>2008-01-04T18:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T18:56:20.950-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='C.J.'/><title type='text'>Oh to be young again</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;C.J. is completely fascinated with this video. The book, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom is the only present that he desperately wanted for Christmas and he wakes up talking about the book, carrying it into our room first thing in the morning. When was the last time I felt this excited about something? Lessons from the young; take them to heart.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qtvtYjLbnDk&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qtvtYjLbnDk&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-4709817312770094735?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/4709817312770094735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=4709817312770094735&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4709817312770094735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4709817312770094735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2008/01/oh-to-be-young-again.html' title='Oh to be young again'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-4316212534576761560</id><published>2008-01-04T18:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T18:35:41.626-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='professional blogger'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Keith'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='com.motionblog.ca'/><title type='text'>My husband, the professional blogger</title><content type='html'>Keith has linked to my blog in his &lt;a href="http://com.motionblog.ca/2008/01/8-things-you-didnt-know-about-me.html"&gt;professional posting&lt;/a&gt;. Uh oh. People might actually read what I'm writing. Hmmmm. What to write about that would keep you coming back for more?&lt;br /&gt;I'll think about it and let you know. In the meantime, hope you like my other posts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-4316212534576761560?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/4316212534576761560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=4316212534576761560&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4316212534576761560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4316212534576761560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-husband-professional-blogger.html' title='My husband, the professional blogger'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-2117646053363643815</id><published>2007-12-29T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T18:05:44.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas seems to be winding down</title><content type='html'>Yeah! &lt;br /&gt;Boo hoo...&lt;br /&gt;I can't make up my mind.&lt;br /&gt;I have never been more tired.  The shopping before Christmas nearly did me in.&lt;br /&gt;The flood in our basement on Christmas Eve was the clincher.&lt;br /&gt;We went to 6 family Christmas parties and still have gifts under our tree to deliver.  There are toys in every inch of my house and C.J. can not decide what he wants to play with -- no, seriously, he's running between toys.  I think he may blow a gasket on his birthday -- it's only 3 weeks away!&lt;br /&gt;I think I should start shopping now for next year -- I've heard of people doing this and thought they were loony; now I join them.  The ranks of those who are determined to finish their shopping by December 1st.  Dare to dream, Laur.  Dare to dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-2117646053363643815?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/2117646053363643815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=2117646053363643815&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/2117646053363643815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/2117646053363643815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/12/christmas-seems-to-be-winding-down.html' title='Christmas seems to be winding down'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-78669902324671948</id><published>2007-12-10T19:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T19:18:20.901-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Roller Coaster</title><content type='html'>I started this blog for fun.  A time to sit down and laugh about the funny things that happen day to day with my kids.  It is for that reason that I have not followed through -- because, at the moment, my life is not very funny.  There are many moments to cherish.  Absolutely.  But there is also a lot of heartache. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is when most people tune out.  Who wants to read a wah, wah, wah confession.  Seriously, I would probably click off too.  I don't blame you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a baby with special needs.  I will add the compulsory preface of:  "He's lovely.  He's wonderful.  He's brought so much joy to our family".   And he has.  Most definitely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is also the pain of watching your child struggle.  There is the sadness of a dream, the dream that your children will always be succesful.  That they will not have to deal with the everyday hardships of life, nevermind any other exceptional challenges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until now, I have avoided this.  I have felt guilty about admitting my pain.  I will be scolded, no doubt.  I will be chastised.  I'm willing to risk it for the honesty that comes with true growth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a baby with special needs... And this is my journey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-78669902324671948?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/78669902324671948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=78669902324671948&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/78669902324671948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/78669902324671948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-roller-coaster.html' title='My Roller Coaster'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-4673745081329369889</id><published>2007-09-29T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T13:32:16.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's audition time again...</title><content type='html'>So, I'm planning on braving yet another audition.  I feel sick to my stomach and promise myself that I will never, ever make myself go through that again.  And yet I do.  Because I can't help myself.  I'm addicted.  There, I've said it.  I'm completely addicted to the thrill of perfecting a song, learning new choreography and then performing for an audience.  The hours are crazy and I am exhausted by the time the show opens.  Despite all this, I love it.  I really wish I didn't.  I think it would be so much easier to have a hobby like sketching or roller blading.&lt;br /&gt;On top of it all, I wonder if I have enough time to take on another show.  With K's new job, C.J.'s fall schedule and bumble B's physio I barely have time to make a decent dinner.  But, I really, really need something for me -- is this it???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-4673745081329369889?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/4673745081329369889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=4673745081329369889&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4673745081329369889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4673745081329369889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/09/its-audition-time-again.html' title='It&apos;s audition time again...'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-1260853127006536228</id><published>2007-08-28T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T12:55:17.381-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ste. Anne&apos;s Spa'/><title type='text'>A comment well taken</title><content type='html'>I was just sent the link for the St. Anne's Spa and noticed Jim's blog &lt;a href="http://www.steannes.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.steannes.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the quote that beats all: take the time and invest in the materials to build a good foundation and the tougher parts of life will come easier.&lt;br /&gt;Of course I've heard this before.  In fact, I used to give this advice when I was an addiction counsellor.&lt;br /&gt;Lately, everything in life seems out of perspective and I've wondering how to find a way to perservere optimistically.&lt;br /&gt;Here's where I dish:  Little B. has special needs.  His little muscles don't work the way he needs them to and we've been spending countless hours with doctors and physiotherapists trying to help him get stronger -- and it's taking a really, really long time.  So long, in fact, that I often feel discouraged and unclear as to whether my efforts will be succesful.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Jim for your quote.  I'm helping him build his foundation and I know the time that we put in now will only help his entire future.  And he's SUCH a little cutie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-1260853127006536228?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/1260853127006536228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=1260853127006536228&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/1260853127006536228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/1260853127006536228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/08/comment-well-taken.html' title='A comment well taken'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-4313709802972201938</id><published>2007-08-22T11:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T11:41:08.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What the??</title><content type='html'>Nap time -- ideally, you read stories to your children, have a cup of water, tuck them in.&lt;br /&gt;Me -- helping C.J. deal with a bleeding nose while B gags himself and vomits all over his bedding, himself and his sleeping bag.  What the???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After spending the evening with us, my mom said:  "No wonder you need to get your hair coloured" -- on the money, mom.  You're so on the money.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-4313709802972201938?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/4313709802972201938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=4313709802972201938&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4313709802972201938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4313709802972201938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/08/what.html' title='What the??'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-4019043428750245505</id><published>2007-07-19T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T12:42:58.855-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='popular theatre'/><title type='text'>Popular Theatre</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CkZu6Q_6Q6E/Rp--cuQqfEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/18sNSrhNud0/s1600-h/Cheerleaders+-+GalleryPlayer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088995504615488578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CkZu6Q_6Q6E/Rp--cuQqfEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/18sNSrhNud0/s320/Cheerleaders+-+GalleryPlayer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ever heard of it?&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking a popular theatre course this weekend and I'm really psyched. Okay, so a whole weekend surrounded by intelligent and creative adults TOTALLY turns me on but I'm really, truly excited about getting my brain to think again -- okay, so Barney &amp; Hip Hop Harry just doesn't challenge -- sorry.&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't heard of it, popular theatre was the brainchild of Augusto Boal and is a way of using theatre to encite community &amp;amp; personal change, promote healing, etc.&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping it will give me some answers... Is the time right to get back on track and use all my theatre training for social good or should I keep on performing locally?&lt;br /&gt;The big question is: do I have the energy?&lt;br /&gt;Since having the kids, my passion is coffee &amp;amp; reality television. There has to be MORE!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-4019043428750245505?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/4019043428750245505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=4019043428750245505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4019043428750245505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/4019043428750245505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/07/popular-theatre.html' title='Popular Theatre'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CkZu6Q_6Q6E/Rp--cuQqfEI/AAAAAAAAAAM/18sNSrhNud0/s72-c/Cheerleaders+-+GalleryPlayer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-804369975882352847</id><published>2007-07-17T13:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T13:05:58.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmmm... this is hard work</title><content type='html'>Any tips on keeping up with blogging?  I have all these great ideas but never seem to have enough time to make it happen.&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to say that my two bambinos keep me hopping but that's just crap, isn't it?  I was watching Oprah (uh huh, I watch Oprah -- in fact, I PVR Oprah -- there, I've said it; I'm an Oprah junky);   anyway, I was watching a PVR'd Oprah from last week and there was a stay at home mom (5 kids... omg) who had her songs picked up and recorded by Faith Hill.  So, seriously, if she can accomplish that with 2.5 times the kids that I have, then what am I complaining about.  Seriously...&lt;br /&gt;What should I do to make this blog better??? &lt;br /&gt;I'm okay with your comments -- seriously, I'm not sensitive about it.  Just tell me; I want to know  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-804369975882352847?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/804369975882352847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=804369975882352847&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/804369975882352847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/804369975882352847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/07/hmmm-this-is-hard-work.html' title='Hmmm... this is hard work'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-6245378432504194859</id><published>2007-07-11T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T13:46:32.231-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Too many appointments</title><content type='html'>I've had enough... too many appointments!&lt;br /&gt;C.J. was sick last night.  Poor little guy couldn't keep anything down so off we went to the doc's office this afternoon. &lt;br /&gt;Quick question (with absolutely no answer): How come doctors feel that it is absolutely okay to keep you (and your little one) waiting for hours at a time.  We are at their mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After endless waiting, I started to unharness my 3-year old.  Rearranging the chairs to play choo-choo train and little Einsteins.  3-2-1 Blast-Off!!  Oh, does that sign really say "Please don't let your children play with the medical equipment".  Hmmm, sorry, I was starting to get blurry eyed from chasing my child around your office, keeping his hands off everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's take back our power, I say.  Enough is enough...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-6245378432504194859?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/6245378432504194859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=6245378432504194859&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/6245378432504194859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/6245378432504194859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/07/too-many-appointments.html' title='Too many appointments'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-2167613157776392387</id><published>2007-07-05T18:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T18:32:29.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boys...</title><content type='html'>Surrounded by 'em.  They're everywhere and I am a minority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have 2 sons.  I am the mother of 2 boys; they are brothers.  It still seems unbelievable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone always assumed that I would have girls.  That I seem like the kind of person who would be the mother of girls, and yet, here I am.  The boys' mommy.  The little mama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm... I think I need a glass of wine.  After 3 &amp; 1/2 years, this still has yet to sink in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what, though... I think I'm gonna like it.  I think I'm really going to like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-2167613157776392387?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/2167613157776392387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=2167613157776392387&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/2167613157776392387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/2167613157776392387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/07/boys.html' title='Boys...'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-6457048807423216430</id><published>2007-07-04T05:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-04T11:24:25.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's not working</title><content type='html'>... the coffee, I mean.  I think I'm in trouble when my husband's full strength brew of morning coffee isn't working anymore.  I actually feel more tired than I did an hour ago -- the act of showering, picking out clothes and drying my hair has done me in (not to mention feeding and dressing my 3-year old, making the babies breakfast, cleaning the kitchen, putting on laundry &amp; packing our day bag -- oh god, no wonder I'm tired).  Only 6 hours until nap time.  Whimper, whimper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're meeting our friends at IKEA today.  My best friend has 2 children of exactly the same age as mine and our last trip to IKEA had both of our older boys in tears.  The ball room lady (or should I say 'cow') was militant on not letting the kids in until they were exactly 40 inches tall.  "No, I'm sorry," she said with a stupid smirk on her face, "they're not quite up to the line.  Have a nice day shopping at IKEA".   If  you've been to IKEA (and really who hasn't), you'll laugh when I say that taking four children through IKEA was the supreme test of wills.  We had no idea that we would not see the light of day for HOURS... literally.  We emerged with a few plastic gadgets, that have since disappeared into the abyss of the house, and nerves upended.  Never again, I said.  Until today... what the hell am I thinking???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-6457048807423216430?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/6457048807423216430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=6457048807423216430&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/6457048807423216430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/6457048807423216430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/07/its-not-working.html' title='It&apos;s not working'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-2996899659465703355</id><published>2007-07-03T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-03T13:46:04.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm new at this</title><content type='html'>Hopefully that doesn't put you off but, yes, I am a blogging virgin (blush). &lt;br /&gt;Does that make my blog all the more appealing or is it a turn off?  I guess it depends on your preference really...&lt;br /&gt;Now that you've sunk your mind into the gutter, let me pull you out.  This is a mommy blog and we have to keep it clean -- for now ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I dragged the kids to the mall today and wonder why on earth I bother.  My 3-year old spent the whole time grabbing items from the shelves and yelling 'Let's buy this.  Let's buy this' and screaming at the top of his lungs when his request was denied (not really sure why a 3-year old would want an incense burner but I think he's been really immersed into our consumer culture -- oops).  I never, NEVER look for stuff for myself.  Instead, I end up leaving with diapers (uh, huh), baby juice and toys for the kids.  For me, a coffee to battle the exhaustion -- which I still get half strength to stave off my guilt from drinking full caff and nursing my baby.  Is there nowwhere left for us moms?  I thought the mall was our safe haven -- waaaaaah (that's me sobbing and not the baby).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-2996899659465703355?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/2996899659465703355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=2996899659465703355&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/2996899659465703355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/2996899659465703355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/07/im-new-at-this.html' title='I&apos;m new at this'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-3366609585671695095</id><published>2007-07-02T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T18:34:31.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>procrastination</title><content type='html'>Such an evil, evil vice of mine. I once heard that people who procrastinate were more likely to develop heart attacks and stroke at an earlier age -- in other words, I'm screwed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're going to my in-laws for dinner and I agreed to bring a salad. Two days ago I thought it would be a great idea to do something new, whip up something special, show off my culinary talent. The problem is, I have no culinary talent and I hate cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the recipe:&lt;br /&gt;black beans, corn, red pepper, avocado, fresh coriander, cumin &amp; chili spice with olive oil on top. Sound good?? I'll let you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, C.J. just woke up from his nap and now I have to make the salad while watching two small children -- I guess I understand the whole heart attack &amp;amp; stroke thing... shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-3366609585671695095?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/3366609585671695095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=3366609585671695095&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/3366609585671695095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/3366609585671695095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/07/procrastination.html' title='procrastination'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6191245306284235524.post-2988343740416317351</id><published>2007-07-02T11:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T18:34:17.140-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The mommy job</title><content type='html'>Welcome to the mommy job...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was rudely welcomed to the mommy job 3 &amp; 1/2 years ago with the arrival of my first son, C.J.. He showed up 3 weeks early, very unannounced. His room was filled with gift bags &amp;amp; no furniture and I had not made it to the spa for my pre-delivery pedicure -- am I still resentful??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was re-introduced 10 months ago with my second boy, Bumble B. He was only one week early and not a day too soon. If you're planning another pregnancy, I don't recommend planning to be pregnant for the ENTIRE summer. It's not a pretty site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having survived this far as the mum to 2 boys, I consider myself somewhat of an expert -- okay, that's bullshit. I'm terrified every morning and wonder how I'll survive another day of being the expert negotiator of the 'why' question (how can such a small person use why in every sentence?) and tricking a 10-month old into eating what's in his bowl and not filling up on any scraps he's managed to lick off the floor (gross, I know).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you choose to check out my blog, be prepared for some candid moments and maybe some helpful? hints. Okay, well, I'm doing my best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a wild, wild world and we can brave it together. Here's hoping for the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6191245306284235524-2988343740416317351?l=themommyjob.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/feeds/2988343740416317351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6191245306284235524&amp;postID=2988343740416317351&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/2988343740416317351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6191245306284235524/posts/default/2988343740416317351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themommyjob.blogspot.com/2007/07/sticky-mess.html' title='The mommy job'/><author><name>littlemama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02687190551822997468</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
