<?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-1308260584734298381</id><updated>2011-11-27T17:31:55.247-08:00</updated><category term='AP'/><category term='intro'/><title type='text'>closetmom</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>133</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-4141209155109905338</id><published>2008-10-30T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T10:30:35.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>28 Week Ultrasound</title><content type='html'>A big sigh of relief ... and only tears of joy after today's ultrasound. Baby is measuring 28 1/2 weeks, and I just turned 28 weeks today. She's in the 55th percentile and everything looks good. My blood pressure was even quite good today and I was at the hospital in the high risk part, so go figure, you'd think that would stress me out more... They estimate that she currently weighs 2 pounds, 10 ounces, which is almost a full pound bigger than PB when he was born (which would have been yesterday in terms of where I am gestationally in this pg). Crazy to think about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, so far, so good! We'll just hope and pray that all continues to go well, and Redheaded Momma, I may just put up a few of those signs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have SO MUCH TO DO to get ready for this little girl!!! Her room isn't even painted. Oh well, it will all happen, it always does. I did, FINALLY, pick out bedding. Do you know that Restoration Hardware now has kids' furnishing and nursery bedding, even clothes--like a pottery barn kids kind of. Anyway, really cute stuff and I ordered some from there. Of course, I don't use bumpers, so it's really just a crib skirt and fitted sheets, but it's cute nonetheless... oh, actually, let me try to post a picture:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/SQnu9VDQFSI/AAAAAAAAABU/mas1JCJsGd8/s1600-h/babybedding.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 103px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/SQnu9VDQFSI/AAAAAAAAABU/mas1JCJsGd8/s200/babybedding.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263000376949347618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halloween tomorrow--one big, sugar-induced tantrum waiting to happen with parties and trick or treating galore that pretty much goes from the minute PB wakes up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4141209155109905338?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4141209155109905338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4141209155109905338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4141209155109905338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4141209155109905338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/10/28-week-ultrasound.html' title='28 Week Ultrasound'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/SQnu9VDQFSI/AAAAAAAAABU/mas1JCJsGd8/s72-c/babybedding.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-105183725751226870</id><published>2008-10-24T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T17:32:30.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ups and downs</title><content type='html'>this week has been exhausting and good and scary...then rinse and repeat. mostly it's been good--saw an old friend, pb's in a good place, I've felt pretty good for the most part, though more tired than I had been. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i had my dr. appt. yesterday and it all fell apart--my blood pressure was up to the highest level it has been, and I just lost it ... AGAIN. I think I freaked my doctor out though he hasn't suggested therapy ... yet, suprisingly. everything else looks good, so i'm trying to focus on that--can I tell you how many times a day I examine my ankles for swelling?. The crazy thing is that when i took my bp myself at my gym a couple of hours after the dr.--it was back to down to where it's been--at least 15 points lower than the dr. office. so i know i'm stressing myself out and of course stress about that. So i'm trying to focus on the fact that this is all out of MY hands. All I can do is take care of myself and get rest, etc. but really other than that and being vigilant (which is totally stressful for me)there's NOTHING I can do. So that's that. Maybe once I get past the point in this pg when PB was born (next week), I'll feel more relieved...I don't know. I do have another ultrasound next week, which I pray shows the baby is still growing great. If it does, that will do a lot to reassure me too. If only I could just relax and enjoy all of this... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to this weekend. a little shopping tomorrow, then meeting a friend for dinner and a movie. do you have any idea how long it has been since I saw a movie?! sunday we have a picnic for PB's school, which should be fun.  I also have a stack of magazines up to my neck and a book I'm dying to read (Julia Glass's new one!) so I'm going to make time for those as well. ... and, of course, a little work. because all play and no work makes me ... even more stressed out come Monday :) have a great weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-105183725751226870?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/105183725751226870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=105183725751226870' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/105183725751226870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/105183725751226870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/10/ups-and-downs.html' title='ups and downs'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2465426998853268936</id><published>2008-10-16T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T08:21:31.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>26 Weeks</title><content type='html'>Today I am 26 weeks along. This is the same week that I went into the hospital with PB. I was in D.C. for business for four days--a very fun, but exhausting trip. I love being back there, and truly feel like it's home. It's where I had my first "real" job out of college, where I got my master's degree, where I met my husband. I would move back there in a heartbeat if I ever got the chance. It was great to see my friend Gretchen too in addition to some good work done--the real purpose the trip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I got back home Tuesday night (after a very emotional reunion with PB--who I missed like I couldn't believe)I looked at my ankles and they were puffy; swollen. Just like the were in my last pregnancy. I've been watching them like a hawk since I first saw two lines on the pg stick, but they've always remained bony. Not this time, there was no questioning if they were swollen. They just were. And at that point, I thought, "Oh no, here we go again". I was an emotional mess yesterday, in uncontrollable tears for most of it, flashing back to what had happened with PB and imagining going through it all (and probably worse) again. But somehow I made myself get a grip, and went to the grocery store to take my b/p, which was just fine--a little elevated (probably due to stress) but still well within normal limits. So i relaxed a little bit and regained some composure to make it through the rest of the day...and my ankles started looking better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I'm happy to report that my bones are sticking out just like normal. There isn't an ounce of swelling to be seen, and my b/p (took it again this moring) is just great. So I'm feeling relieved and greatful and hoping it was just the pressure from the plane, an exhausting trip and walking around in heels for three days. Let's hope ... and pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kills me is my emotional fragility right now. I know it's understandable given what we went through and with pregnancy hormones on top of it, but my God, I can become a mess quite easily... which i'm sure is just great for my b/p. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my body (and mind!) can just hold on for about 11 more weeks, that's all I ask ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2465426998853268936?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2465426998853268936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2465426998853268936' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2465426998853268936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2465426998853268936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/10/26-weeks.html' title='26 Weeks'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6238692149766325290</id><published>2008-09-21T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T19:13:07.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need Kisses!</title><content type='html'>This is what PB was yelling in the middle of the night. I woke up at 2:37 a.m. to hear him shouting over and over again, "mommy, I need some kisses! mommy, I really need your kisses." I thought perhaps it was a dream, but when I went up there he seemed fully awake. I gave him some kisses, a drink of water and didn't hear from again until morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't ever particularly like to be woken up in the middle of the night, but if I'm going to be, this is sure a sweet way for it to happen :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, this little girl has begun to kick and dance and move all the time. I didn't feel it much for a long time and now all of a sudden she's just buzzing around in there, and I can see my stomach moving when she does. I love it and am starting to let myself get more and more excited about her arrival. The pink collection is growing!(and I'm really not only buying pink, but it's certainly a predominant color in her little growing wardrobe). I'm still feeling good, and no swelling, although a little more tired lately. I got to sleep in both mornings this weekend, so that helped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, a nice weekend. Had some friends over for dinner yesterday, a little shopping today with PB for new court shoes for tennis, brunch, church, soccer--all the things suburban families do on weekends. On the shoe front--he was wearing a size 9 and we had to buy him an 11 1/2--yikes his poor little toes were probably really cramped in there! Oops, maybe his game will improve now that his feet aren't being bound and tortured!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6238692149766325290?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6238692149766325290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6238692149766325290' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6238692149766325290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6238692149766325290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-need-kisses.html' title='I Need Kisses!'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6648352301182003705</id><published>2008-09-06T16:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T16:17:46.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I bought something pink today!</title><content type='html'>I was going to wait longer, but I just couldn't, and so today, I finally, bought something pink for our little baby. I can't believe I've been able to wait so long, AND I can't believe I ONLY bought one thing when I did. But it's hard--harder than I thought it would be. I'm sooo picky it's not even funny and put great care into every item of clothing I purchase--for PB, for me, OK, not really for my husband--just sorta effort there, becasue he's really easy and doesn't like me to be too creative. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've loved dressing PB (still do), I look back at his pictures and remember where each outfit is from, when I bought it, etc. And with a girl the pressure feels even greater ... not because I think clothes are that important in the scheme of things, but they are my thing so to speak. I love them, always have ... and the the little girl options--ohhhhh. But I have a lot of rules about what I like and don't like, which I won't bore you here with, but one VERY important one (especially for grandparents and older relatives) there should be absolutely NO Disney chararcters ANYWHERE on clothing. Actually, I usually just tell them no animals in general (if we're lucky enough to have them ask) because while some can be cute, you have to know which ones are cute and which ones are just dreadful. So if they think I'm just an animal hater so be it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anway, the dress I bought today is adorable--it's a little printed Baby Lulu dress. I think it's for 9 months, which is a ways away, but I know I'll still like it at anytime. AND get this, it was only $9! That's right $9 at the Neiman Marcus Last Call! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I also went to about 20 children's stores and that was the ONLY thing I bought, so if it's going to take me that long for each piece--this poor girl is going to have a very limited wardrobe. But it will be a good one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6648352301182003705?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6648352301182003705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6648352301182003705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6648352301182003705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6648352301182003705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-bought-something-pink-today.html' title='I bought something pink today!'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-8868433898901442509</id><published>2008-09-04T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T19:07:57.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>20 Weeks, So Far, So Good</title><content type='html'>We had our big 20-week appointment today, and it went wonderfully well. Everything looks great, she's measuring right on time, and my blood pressure is great. So, so far, so good. I can't believe we're only half way there, it seems like it's been forever, although I will be thankful for each week I get to grow this baby. So I will try not to complain as I grow huger and huger. I will, however, reserve the right to complain if these hurricanes blow away my house.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A topic everyone seems to want to discuss is baby names--the fun part. I was completely set on one name, and now I'm wavering. PB absolutely loves another name that we'd been tossing around, and it's so cute how he says it that I'm leaning that way now. I don't know. It's such pressure to come up with a good name. I'm open to suggestions, so if you have any brilliant ones, let me know. I'll tell you that I tend to like more traditional ones, and I don't like ones that sound like they're made up or trying too hard. But once we decide, we will keep it a secret until the end--something has to be a surprise. But I'll be happy to give you credit then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB started tennis lessons, and is having lots of fun with them. He smashes the ball so hard it's hilarious watching his little body just crush it ... now we just need to work on gettting it OVER the net. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in other news, I waited almost two entire weeks before sending his preschool teacher an e-mail with a few questions. It's driving me crazy not walking him into his class and meeting the kids and chatting with parents and the teacher each day like we did at his old school. Here it's just all carline. But his teacher was super responsive and gave me great feedback, so I feel better now. And proud that I held out that long!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8868433898901442509?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8868433898901442509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8868433898901442509' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8868433898901442509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8868433898901442509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/09/20-weeks-so-far-so-good.html' title='20 Weeks, So Far, So Good'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-3691569674301980724</id><published>2008-09-01T19:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T19:43:54.554-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ticking is Getting Louder</title><content type='html'>On Thursday, I'll be 20 weeks pregnant--half way there for most pregnancies. So while that's a big milestone, it's also a scary one for me. That's about the earliest they say pre-E symptoms start (which is what I had with PB). So while I've been thinking this pregnancy has been going so differently/better than my last, maybe it really hasn't. See, I don't remember when all of that started with him. It felt like I was swollen forever, but six weeks feels like a long time and perhaps it was only six weeks that I was experiencing all those symptoms before I was hospitalized at 26 weeks (and he came via emergency c-section a week later). But I just don't remember. Yet another reason I kick myself for not keeping a journal--our at least a more frequent blog! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, no swelling. So far, I'm feeling good and my blood pressure is good, so I'm trying to focus on those. But the ticking in my head keeps getting louder and louder. And I want to just enjoy this pregnancy--I want to start on the nursery, I want to buy GIRL clothese, but my fear is holding me back. I really don't want to have to deal with all of those things if something should go horribly wrong again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm asked all the time,"isn't it just a first time pregnancy disease?" or told "Oh your chances of getting it again are so low." but belive me, I've done my research and then some, and my odds of getting it again are between 30-60 percent--and frankly I don't like those odds at all. So now, it's just watch and wait and keep up with all of my doctors' appointments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had some friends over this afternoon for swimming and dinner. In addition to a boy PB's age, they have a little girl who's 1 1/2. While she's adorable and I love her, my lord she's a lot of work, and makes me realize just how much baby-proofing we have to do in this house. Pool fence, child locks, gates, not to mention buying ALL the baby gear that I just gave way earlier this year when we moved!!! Of course, that's how it happens. And if all goes well, then oh well, I'm happy to do it all again. And this time it can all be PINK!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-3691569674301980724?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3691569674301980724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=3691569674301980724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3691569674301980724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3691569674301980724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/09/ticking-is-getting-louder.html' title='The Ticking is Getting Louder'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-3179206403828541374</id><published>2008-08-31T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T16:08:02.205-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Needless Worry</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure why I was so stressed about not being stressed enough this weekend--so far it's been great. Yesterday we went to Kennedy Space Center and had a great time--it's incredible there, so inspiring and amazing and PB loved. We then headed to Cocoa Beach and had some quite good, non-chain Mexican food (I just can't get enough!)and didn't get home until late. And the rest of the weekend is filed to the brim with friends coming over tomorrow and other random get togethers today. Soon I'll be wishing for the weekend again. Note to self: find a way to fit in some exercise tomorrow! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other random news, I made a "rasberry buckle" today with fresh whipped cream for some guests, and it was really good! let me know if you want the recipe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-3179206403828541374?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3179206403828541374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=3179206403828541374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3179206403828541374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3179206403828541374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/08/needless-worry.html' title='Needless Worry'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6018509680324179395</id><published>2008-08-29T16:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T16:44:57.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Too busy or bored</title><content type='html'>I swear I'm always one or the other--crazy, insane busy or bored out of my skull. How anyone with my job that consumes more hours than I can count in addition taking care of a husband, son and house, not to mention growing a baby, can ever be bored, I'm not sure. But sometimes I am. Or rather when I think about long spans of time without activities filling them, I start to panic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This three-day weekend for example--sure we have a party to go to, sure we're probably go the inlaws and we may hit Kennedy Space Center, but that's it. And it's making me crazy trying to think of things we can DO. I hate idle time, and I'm sure it will fill quickly. But right now instead of being thrilled to have this three-day weekend to leisurely read, hang out by the pool, workout and get errands done, I'm instead lamenting the fact that I didn't plan a party here or plan a beach getaway or something. Tonight is taken care of; we're going to watch 21. It's been so long since I've watched a movie, becuase I'm always too busy. I know, I know ... but this sounds perfect for tonight, if only I could have a glass of wine while I watch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6018509680324179395?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6018509680324179395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6018509680324179395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6018509680324179395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6018509680324179395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/08/too-busy-or-bored.html' title='Too busy or bored'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6050834637392340121</id><published>2008-08-27T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T14:56:18.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>swedish fish</title><content type='html'>are sitting like lead rocks in my stomach. The woman in front of me said "oh, get some swedish fish" to her daughter, and all of a sudden I HAD to have some. I haven't had any in probably five years, and I probably won't for another five--ugh! What's in those things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as you can see I'm fairly consumed by food lately. I had Chipoltle's for lunch, and it was soo good. I wish I could give the fish back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stomach is getting bigger and bigger, but luckily I haven't gained too much weight. I think seven pounds total, and since I'm 19 weeks, I'm calling that pretty good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was a crazy hectic day, and I was exhausted. Besides the fish, I'm feeling much better today--the miracles of good sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB is such a big boy off to his new school, and so cute in his little uniform! Dropoffs in the morning are hard and he cries--i think because it's the first time I can't walk him in--I just have to drop him off. But today was great, because we carpooled with the little girl across the streeet, and he just hopped out and ran off with her. So that's our magic ticket--we'll take her everyday she'll let us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6050834637392340121?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6050834637392340121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6050834637392340121' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6050834637392340121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6050834637392340121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/08/swedish-fish.html' title='swedish fish'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-9156451029872249664</id><published>2008-08-26T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T16:19:54.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Addiction</title><content type='html'>so i've been solely supporting the Chipolte's in my area with my pregnancy cravings. Seriously,I go there ALL THE TIME. spicy beef tacos are often the only thing that sounds good, and I eat them at least 5-6 times a week (hanging head in embarassment). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but today on a whim I picked up two of little single serving cheese enchilada meals at Whole Foods--they're the Whole Kitchen brand. OMG,I'm in love. I ate both boxes I bought just for dinner. I'm definitely going to have to go back tomorrow. They are organic after all. I swear this baby--did I mention it's a girl?--is going to come out demanding Mexican food, and it sucks becuase there is a SERIOUS lack of decent Mexican food in this area! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More on my pregnancy Redhead momma soon I promise!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-9156451029872249664?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/9156451029872249664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=9156451029872249664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/9156451029872249664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/9156451029872249664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/08/new-addiction.html' title='New Addiction'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6255343305358792563</id><published>2008-08-24T18:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T18:53:35.488-07:00</updated><title type='text'>weekend</title><content type='html'>We've been super busy lately, so this weekend we made no real plans. After sleeping in Saturday morning, I got the idea that we really should head down to Epcot. It was an expensive decision ($200 for the three of us, even with a Florida discount) but one I thought would be worth it. Turns out not so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of rain, waiting in line for 40 minutes for the Test Track, only to be next and then have the skies open up and ruin our chances of riding. Getting up to the space ride (PB is obsessed with space and was so excited for that one) only to find out he had to be 44 inches tall (he's only 42 inches, which is what MOST of the rides require) and the restaurant in Mexico we REALLY wanted to eat at--not a chance, as we didn't think to make reservations (stupid I know). And did I mention the rain, on and off all day, making for a soggy day. On the positive side, we didn't have to deal with the heat. Oh well, it was an adventure...albeit an expensive one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was church, errands and some work. Speaking of which I need to get back to it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6255343305358792563?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6255343305358792563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6255343305358792563' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6255343305358792563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6255343305358792563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/08/weekend.html' title='weekend'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2337859374700569748</id><published>2008-08-23T17:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T17:04:25.809-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is anyone still out there?</title><content type='html'>talk about blog lags. a LOT has happened since my last post. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a freelance job that i LOVE, but is consuming every single free minute I get. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That plus, I'm PREGNANT!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so jealous of all these mommy bloggers and keep kicking myself for not keeping up with my own, so here I go again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly have tons to write about. If anyone is still out there, I promise I'll try to be more regular!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2337859374700569748?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2337859374700569748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2337859374700569748' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2337859374700569748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2337859374700569748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/08/is-anyone-still-out-there.html' title='Is anyone still out there?'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2050077344118661575</id><published>2008-02-29T20:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T20:50:21.898-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AP'/><title type='text'>Just so you know</title><content type='html'>Jumping up and down with a 12-pound medicine ball above your head--even for 40-second bursts--will cause IMMENSE pain the following day. Pain, as in asking your 4-year-old to just keep hitting your back (and legs because of the lunges--many, many lunges) as hard as he can with his fist, because it feels sort of good--like a little massage...or at least makes you forget temporarily about another part of your body that's throbbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did a boot camp yesterday that has left me a hobbling mess today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's okay...I think. It was a good class that ended in team relay races--complete with you sitting in line once you were done with your five laps. I felt like i was back in grade school P.E., but it was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides my moaning and growning with each of my movements, today was a good day with a playdate, then some swimming, pizza night and catching up on some Tivo. Looking forward to a good weekend and hope you all have one too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2050077344118661575?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2050077344118661575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2050077344118661575' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2050077344118661575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2050077344118661575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/02/just-so-you-know.html' title='Just so you know'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-1579679261891543811</id><published>2008-02-27T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T20:15:00.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Official</title><content type='html'>I'm officially a soccer mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Practice starts Sunday. Today we bought PB little cleats, shin guards, socks (UGLY socks that go OVER the shin guards--Wes, can that be right?) and a ball. His first game is next Friday. We'll see how it goes.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I come from an incredibly athletic family, so I'm hoping that PB gets some of that talent that skipped me--so far he's been much more interested in books than balls, but we'll see. I think sports are great for kids (and adults!) so I hope he finds at least one that likes and sticks with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will state for the record, that I will not be driving to his soccer games in a mini van...okay, it's a station wagon, not much better I know. (Actually, I have no problem with mini vans--besides the gas they guzzle--if it makes life easier then who cares. I'm not a car person anyway.) but I don't have a mom hair cut! Unless you're talking about the moms on Desperate Housewives...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a much needed "me" day today and feel recharged. My me day consisted of me going to the mall and walking around, browsing, trying on clothes, perfumes and makeup. Then for lunch--a big old cup of Hagan Dazs yogurt while I sat on a bench, peacefully relaxing and people watching. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then THUD! Some stupid lady comes and sits down right next to me. It wasn't a big bench and my bags and I were taking up two-thirds of it. There were plenty of other places to sit. SHE DID NOT NEED TO SIT ON MY BENCH. But she did, and in an angry huff, I stood and walked away. Mature, I know. But still.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-1579679261891543811?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/1579679261891543811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=1579679261891543811' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1579679261891543811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1579679261891543811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/02/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s Official'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-1720389805022068685</id><published>2008-02-26T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T19:57:29.075-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Checking In</title><content type='html'>I'm not even going to apologize for being a bad blogger, because unfortunately I think that's the way it's going to be for awhile. I've been spending every free moment on my freelance work, which is fun, but never ending!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been keeping up with my runnning pretty well. I broke my six-mile barrier finally and ran a little over 8 miles on Sunday (I thought it was nine, but rechecked in my car and it was a little short). But still that's big for me--the longest I've run in years. And I felt so, so great doing it. The weather was gorgeous and I felt great the entire way--except for a horrible toe cramp that I just stopped briefly to massage out--i've got to stop clenching my toes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took yesterday off then set out for an easy four miles today, which were not easy at all! i felt like i was going to throw up, everything hurt, etc., etc. I got it done, but it wasn't fun. So who knows? I'm going to join a marathon training program that starts in late spring, so i'll get more systematic about it, but I feel pretty good about my start back into running after a too-long hiatus! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a fun playdate today with some of PB's classmates. Was great until he went flying off of his big wheel and got a HUGE egg on his head. The first thing he told me through his hysterical tears was "that's why I needed my helmet!" Of course I had forgotten to bring his helmet to his friend's house, and told him he would be fine without it. Great parenting moment right there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it for now. Sorry I've been horrible about commenting on all of your blogs too. I'll try to be better!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-1720389805022068685?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/1720389805022068685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=1720389805022068685' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1720389805022068685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1720389805022068685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/02/checking-in.html' title='Checking In'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-5888534502513803953</id><published>2008-02-19T06:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T06:24:16.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>At Last</title><content type='html'>It seems like ages that I've been waiting to write this post. I've imagined the excitement and what I would say so many, many times since last June. And yet, here I am about to do it, and it's just not what I imagined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got an offer on our house--FINALLY! It's a decent offer based on the current price of our house, but it's so far from where we started, it's depressing. All the plans, things that were supposed to be, have to be altered significantly. I can't stop thinking how different things would be if we had priced it differently in the beginning, but I know should, woulda, coulda isn't going to do anyone any good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's also not a full purchase offer--it's a rent until they sell their house in California offer. So it doesn't feel final, because we can't close here until they close there, etc., etc. But financially it will be a very large bandaid to stop some our financial bleeding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am thankful, because really it could have kept going and going and gotten us to a worse situation. And I know there are ohters out there who are and will have to go through worse. So yes, I'm grateful, just not quite as excited as I had hoped to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, sorry I've been such a bad blogger. I've been swamped with my new freelance job and a crazy amount of birthday parties--six in about eight days. I will try to be better!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5888534502513803953?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5888534502513803953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5888534502513803953' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5888534502513803953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5888534502513803953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/02/at-last.html' title='At Last'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-4093399850458861348</id><published>2008-02-08T19:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T19:29:53.765-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>So I'm a bad blogger lately I know, but I've been very busy with my new job! It's a lot of work, but very fun work. So I feel a little bit more like myself again with this to concentrate on. Of course my running has also suffered a bit. But I got in one good run this week and have plans for a long one tomorrow and sunday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, we've been waiting for two weeks to see if PB got into the fancy school--you know the one with the elaborate wedding to marry Q&amp;U? Well, his good friend who also "auditioned" got a call earlier this week saying he was wait listed, they thought he was too distracted, etc. My son is the king of distraction so I figured our fate would be theirs or worse (total rejection). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two full days after they got the call we had nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then today I went out to get the mail, and there it was--the FAT ENVVELOPE. woo hoo, he got in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As happy as we were--because it really is a great school and I think will be a great place for PB--believe me I do realize the complete and utter absurdity of this whole process--my emotions included--when HE'S ONLY GOING INTO PRESCHOOL! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on. Wednesday night I hosted a party at my friend's boutique. I was a little worried no one would show, but they did. And it was fun and people bought stuff and it made me feel really settled here--like hey, i've made some friends. So that was nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow my husband's parents are coming for the day to celebrate his mom's bday. We're having lunch here then going out to dinner. I'm running between the two so I can eat birthday cake! I did not make the cake from scratch, I bought it at the bakery. And I didn't spend all day nad night planning a fancy lunch menu and cooking the items on it. And for that, I'm incredibly proud (and amazed!) at myself! I think the sunshine might be moving my needle from A to B on the personality type scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4093399850458861348?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4093399850458861348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4093399850458861348' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4093399850458861348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4093399850458861348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/02/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-233410483349649878</id><published>2008-02-04T21:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T21:13:09.898-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Still here</title><content type='html'>I'm still here. My mom is visiting, and we've been in constant motion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shopping, playing with PB, visiting the in-laws, eating--eating way too much. All I want to do is run and run and run for the next couple of days and get my body back to the way it felt a few weeks ago..and then some. The weather has been amazing though, and we've had lots of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to put this out there, becaue I'm sure once again I'll be disappointed, but we have a really good-looking set of buyers for our Seattle house. I have such a good feeling about them. We'll see. We also had one a week ago, but they went another way. I didn't, however, have such a good feeling about them. I keep thinking I'm going to delete this so I don't jinx things, but that's silly, and I know you'll all send me postiive energy, which is stronger than a jinx anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doing a new freelance gig that is keeping me very busy, but I'm really liking it a lot! It's really great work, but unfortunately not great pay. Could lead into more though, and since I love it, I'm burning that proverbial midnight candle doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The freakin' cookbook is almost out the door. I can't wait to get to get it out of my house and thoughts...for a few weeks...until the edits come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it--my schizo post for today. Just checking in to do so. Will try to update with something more interesting soon--like the sale of my house (please, please, please)!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-233410483349649878?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/233410483349649878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=233410483349649878' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/233410483349649878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/233410483349649878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/02/still-here.html' title='Still here'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-7668746624360481266</id><published>2008-01-30T20:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T20:56:09.211-08:00</updated><title type='text'>hi</title><content type='html'>i've been a bad blogger I know. As I've said before, I hate blog lags, so sorry I'm regularly providing them. I've just been busy--with new freelance work, the f'ing cookbook committee, shoping and lunch with a new friend today, new school tours, cleaning my house for my mom's arrival tomorrow, etc., etc. etc. But it's all good...mostly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another family got "this" close to buying our house, and now looks like they're not going to go forward. These ups and downs are killing me. And every month, when I have to write out two mortgage checks, I get really depressed. And since it's almost the 1st...you can guess how I'm feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's a little tempered, because I know it could be much, much worse. I found out that a friend of mine from Seattle has breast cancer. She just found out. She's a wonderful woman with four children. I used to work with her at a nonprofit when I first moved to the area, and she taught me how to quilt. She's strong, blunt, funny and spiritual; and I think and pray that those things serve her well as she battles this disease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding out about her illness has left me particularly pensive. But at the same time unable to express my emotions very well. My thoughts, however, just won't stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, my mom gets here tomorrow evening, and we're all looking forward to that. She hasn't seen our new house; and PB is just in a great, great place right now. (Okay total aside--he's a HUGE sleeptalker/sleepsinger, etc. For the past week or so, every night he starts counting in his sleep. I'll go up there thinking he's awake, but he's totally asleep. so weird!) My husband and i may even get to go out on a date all by ourself. I seriously can NOT remember the last time that happened. It would be a very nice treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, that's about it. I got in great running over th weekend, and then have done no excercise the rest of the week. I'm hoping tomorrow I might get in at least a quick 3 miler. We'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-7668746624360481266?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7668746624360481266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=7668746624360481266' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7668746624360481266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7668746624360481266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/hi.html' title='hi'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-8027686599892803838</id><published>2008-01-26T18:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T18:42:42.431-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Testing, Testing</title><content type='html'>So today Pb had to audition, get tested, evaluated, call it what you will, for a preschool we may want to send him to. I swear I never, ever thought I'd be the mom taking my child to something like this at such a young age. But things change, and I learned long ago to never say never.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are different here in Florida--public schools aren't as good for the most part, and we love this school from what we've seen. But we've also heard it's pretty competitive to get in. So we'll see. I've been trying to drill PB all day without appearing to drill him about what went on, what they asked him, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting very little in the way of answers. Just little snippets like, "I told them my name and they said that was a very beautiful name." Or "I counted to 40 and then stopped." I tried to find out why he stopped there--did he tell him he couldn't go any higher (he can) or did they ask him to stop-- but then he clams up and won't tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows? When we went to pick him up, they said he did "great," which is what I think they said to all the parents--meaning great, having fun, etc. No feedback at all on the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he got some bonus points for sociability though because right when we were leaving, in front of a couple of the big administrators, this little girl yelled to PB and opened up her arms to him. He ran into them and hugged her. It was so cute, and there were lots of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ooos&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ahs&lt;/span&gt;. This was especially nice to see as he's been on a big boys-are-the-best kick. Our conversation yesterday went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB: mommy I wish you were a boy&lt;br /&gt;Me: Why?&lt;br /&gt;PB: Because boys are better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the hug was good. Hope they wrote that down. So now we wait and within two weeks we should know that either a) we're in; b) we're on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wait list&lt;/span&gt;; or c) that we're not getting in. Really, whatever the outcome is is fine with us. There are plenty of other options. But if our outcome is C I sure hope they tell us what they base it on, because man am I dying to know what went on today!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More probing tomorrow. Perhaps a day later he'll cough up more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8027686599892803838?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8027686599892803838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8027686599892803838' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8027686599892803838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8027686599892803838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/testing-testing.html' title='Testing, Testing'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-678064727238179385</id><published>2008-01-25T19:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T19:43:48.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bowling</title><content type='html'>Today PB and I met a friend of his for a some bowling. It was the fist time he's ever bowled, and it was really fun.  The ball was pretty heavy for him, and since when I tried to help him, I made him fall backward onto his head, they got out some help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had this crazy metal ramp thing that he could put the ball on, and then push it down. If you have spent much time in bowling alleys, perhaps you've seen one?  And there were these bars in the gutters, so no gutter balls. At least not for him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me on the other hand, lot of gutters. I'm I'm horrible and didn't break 80, but it was a lot of fun nonetheless. And I'm thinking perhaps it counts as a workout?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope so, because not only did I have pizza at the bowling alley, a I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;also&lt;/span&gt; had pizza for dinner. I'm such a peer pressure eater. My neighbor and her two sons came over in the afternoon. We ended up having a glass of vino while the boys played and soon realized it was passing dinnertime. Since my husband had a working dinner and hers was out of town, we called for pizza and fed the kids and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ourselves&lt;/span&gt;.  So I probably need to do another workout tomorrow--perhaps something a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;strenuous&lt;/span&gt; than bowling. But I'm thinking I may be sore from the bowling tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-678064727238179385?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/678064727238179385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=678064727238179385' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/678064727238179385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/678064727238179385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/bowling.html' title='Bowling'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-9025825831390589035</id><published>2008-01-24T17:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T18:09:05.339-08:00</updated><title type='text'>For the Record</title><content type='html'>I rarely edit, proof or even spellcheck my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like it that way, even though I'm a total grammar and punctuation freak.( I once lobbyed a grocery store for weeks to put up an apostrophe in their HUGE sign that read, "Its (sic) Our Pleasure to Serve You." And they finally did! )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here at my pad in the blogosphere, I come, I let my thoughts flow and dont worry much about mispelings; or bad punctuation or run on sentences, or too, many, commas, that leave people wanting to catch their breath or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while I stated that this would be my rules (or lacktherof) when I started this blog, I haven't mentioned it in awhile. So some of you might just think I'm ignorant and want to scream as you read my imperfect prose. But rest assured I'm not stupid,  just lazy...when I'm here in this little corner of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-9025825831390589035?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/9025825831390589035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=9025825831390589035' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/9025825831390589035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/9025825831390589035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/for-record.html' title='For the Record'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-4849613165320960336</id><published>2008-01-23T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T18:59:00.718-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Remind Me</title><content type='html'>If I ever want to be the chair of a committee again, please tell me to run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remind me just how much work it was to chair the preschool cookbook committee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time I'll just be "on" the committee.  I don't need to be in charge (keep repeating to self).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the book...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4849613165320960336?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4849613165320960336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4849613165320960336' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4849613165320960336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4849613165320960336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/remind-me.html' title='Remind Me'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-158484192182476095</id><published>2008-01-21T19:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T19:41:56.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>dilemma</title><content type='html'>I'm in the middle of such a cliche woman's situation it's not even funny. I got a great job offer, but I don't want to leave my son, not for a full-time, in-the-office job. Should I be able to do it part-time, telecommute, work part-time or have an extremely flexible schedule? Absolutely. could i do an incredible job that way? No question. Will they let me? It's doubtful. And it makes me mad--not just about this particular situation, but the situation for women everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Businesses really should take advantage of all the very talented, brain-bored mothers out there who would love to work in some capacity. I talk to them all the time--women who had amazing careers, and would love to work a little, but can't do a traditional 40-hour job in an office. If businesses were just a bit more flexible they would get such great product, input, work and dedication. but they're scared to break the mold. Good Lord, what would it do to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; head count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been lucky doing freelance for a number of years; and more has and will continue to come my way. But I should be able to do more. And I would do so much more. Pay me for 20 hours, you surely will get 30 or more in return. Because I'm hungry, and frankly, I'm good at what I do. I want to work, but I don't need to do it from 9-5 in a cubicle to produce results. My brain needs some stimulation. My mortgages (PLURAL) need paying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most of all I love my son, and I think now he needs me. He's not going to need me as much in coming years. And in coming years, my windows for work will open wider and wider. But for now, I'm keeping them shut a bit. And it's my choice. But the whole thing still makes me angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will go into more detail later. But for now I just need to vent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-158484192182476095?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/158484192182476095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=158484192182476095' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/158484192182476095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/158484192182476095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/dillemma.html' title='dilemma'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-564970597578976976</id><published>2008-01-20T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T16:54:08.798-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back</title><content type='html'>After about a week's hiatus due to my injury and then my sister's visit, I finally ran again today. Six miles in very brisk, but sunny weather. After about three miles, one of my toes was in pain, so I quickly took off my shoe to see what was going on--it was being cut by the toenail of my little toe. So I ripped the offending nail off and proceeded on my run pain free. I've got to break through this six mile limit I've somehow set and find a new, longer route. I'm also renewing my efforts to look for some local races. I think I a 10k will be next for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course today's run will do little to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;counter all&lt;/span&gt; the crappy food I ate at the theme parks. Seriously--did you know that one of those mickey ice creams on a stick have 330 calories and 22 grams of fat?! That's just gross. And really, not so worth it. I don't even want to know that stats on the pizza, chicken fingers, etc. Blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I saw a movie for the first time in eons. We went to "Juno".  I wanted to love it and to cry and be moved. It was good, and I liked it. But it didn't make me cry. And really, all that Gilmore-Girl-like bantering just doesn't do a lot for me.  But there was a lot I liked about it too, so overall I'd give it a thumb's up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it. I'm exhausted from the long week and lack of sleep. We're sad my sister left--especially PB who utterly and totally adores her.  But really looking forward to tomorrow because my husband has the day off for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;MLK&lt;/span&gt; day. woo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-564970597578976976?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/564970597578976976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=564970597578976976' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/564970597578976976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/564970597578976976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/back.html' title='Back'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-5174418707565126689</id><published>2008-01-16T10:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T10:16:25.022-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Checking In</title><content type='html'>This week is whizzing by wonderfully (I love alliteration!).&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe my sister actually got out of Boston they day she, but she did. And on time too.&lt;br /&gt;We've been having a great time. My husband is out of town, so all the movies I wanted to see won't happen as we have PB, but we're having fun nonetheless. And American Idol started last night--hooray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been shopping, cooking, eating. And PB is in heaven. He adores his aunt and wants her up the instant he gets up. Today he told her she should get up when the sun does. Since she just finished law school finals I'm trying to keep him away for a few minutes at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one who's really missing sleep is me.  I'm a bit spoiled as my husband usually gets up every morning with PB, feeds him breakfast and gets him dressed for school while I sleep in and get ready leisurely. With him out of town, it's all me. I miss him so much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday we're going to hit a Disney park, not sure which one yet. And Saturday, we're going to Universal. So lots of fun. I'm trying to catch up on reading blogs when I can, and thought I'd do a check in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping to get in a decent run this afternoon while PB and his aunt play, but it's looking like rain. We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More when I can. Hope you're all having a great week!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5174418707565126689?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5174418707565126689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5174418707565126689' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5174418707565126689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5174418707565126689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/checking-in.html' title='Checking In'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2341824139406973982</id><published>2008-01-13T19:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T19:55:40.397-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend Wrap</title><content type='html'>it was a good weekend. a weekend with virtually no stress, no major plans, just kind of a gentle unfolding. and those are good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my hair turned out fine. actually it turned out great when I left the salon. But when I tried to do it today, not so much. And I know that's a common thing for women, but it's not for me. Usually it's exactly the opposite. They do it, and I know I'll style it better. So I'm not sure what that means, but today my hair looked like crap--no matter what I do. I don't look like myself at all. It's weird. She took a ton off, I have bangs, it's really choppy. I think in two or three weeks I'll love it. for now I'm not sure. I &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;think&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; I'll go back to her again, but I'm not 100 percent.  But since we moved this was definitely the overall best salon experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was the big private school tour. It's a great school, and PB behaved very well (It could be the bribe of a new train we promised, but who knows...). I think it would be good for PB, and PB would love it. It's a great mix of academics and personal development--everything from manners classes, swiming, Spanish lessons and fencing options to a huge preschool formal event--the lakeside wedding of the letters "Q" and "U" complete with a catered reception. I'm serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard so many opinions of this school--very well known in this area--both good and bad. But as someone recently told me, "everyone who goes there loves it; and everyone else badmouths it." And I get that. I have a really good feeling based on today, the tour I had and the experiences of some people I know who go there. And I have to go on my gut feelings. I don't know yet if it's the best solution for our family, but it's definitely a wonderful one. We go back in two weeks for his "assessment". We'll see how that goes. Depending on his mood that day, it may not even be an option :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister is supposed to arrive tomorrow and is staying for a week. We're hoping the forecasted blizzard is Boston won't postpone her trip! We're excited to show her our new home and some of the Disney resorts. PB, of course, thinks she is coming to be his full-time playmate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to a good week, and an offer coming in on our house!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2341824139406973982?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2341824139406973982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2341824139406973982' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2341824139406973982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2341824139406973982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/weekend-wrap.html' title='Weekend Wrap'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-4396035178911865436</id><published>2008-01-11T13:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T15:37:14.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Friday</title><content type='html'>This week has flown by. I worked three mornings at my friend's boutique and had a follow up job interview the other day. This morning we had one of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;PB's&lt;/span&gt; friends from preschool over for a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;play date&lt;/span&gt;. It was really nice chatting with his mom; and the boys had so much fun together.  Then this afternoon I stepped outside to get the mail, saw a neighbor who invited PB and I over for a happy hour &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;play date&lt;/span&gt;, complete with a bottle of chardonnay and a couple of other neighbors. I'm telling you, we picked the perfect neighborhood. They're all really nice and fun and had tons of great information about all the schools around here, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tomorrow I'm having a me day. When I was working, I had them almost every week because I needed them. I had PB all day, then worked most of the night writing. Since we've moved and I've just had PB to focus on--and he's in school the majority of the day--I've had tons of me days.  So I've &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;forfeited&lt;/span&gt; my weekend ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But  I've picked up more work and gradually life is getting back to a hectic pace. So I'm looking forward to tomorrow. My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;husband&lt;/span&gt; is taking PB to his parents' house where they will spend the day and come back right before bedtime. I'm getting my hair cut and highlighted--it's so far overdue it's pathetic. Remember when I went back to Seattle to pack up our house? Yeah, well it was before that!  So I'll do that, perhaps &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pretend&lt;/span&gt; shop a little bit, go to the gym and maybe even see a movie. We'll see. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On Sunday we have an open house for a private school we're considering for PB. I'm predicting that day will be full of stories. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Have a great weekend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4396035178911865436?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4396035178911865436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4396035178911865436' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4396035178911865436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4396035178911865436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-friday.html' title='Happy Friday'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6173603495284052175</id><published>2008-01-09T16:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T16:51:51.267-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Different Type of Trip</title><content type='html'>It started out as a nice morning. I had an appointment first thing in the morning, then headed home to get in a run in the glorious weather. I got dressed, grabbed by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ipod&lt;/span&gt; and headed out. Around about 1.5 miles I tripped over something (perhaps just my own feet) and went flying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The palms of my hands were burning, my knee bloody and throbbing, and then there was my ankle--a nice, dull ache.  I surveyed the damage, managed to get up, and after I walked about half a mile, I figured I was good to continue running home. I still felt fine when I got home, so I ran around my neighborhood for another mile or so. I think that was my mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my shower, I was limping. When I went to pick up PB from preschool, I could barely hobble. My ankle is now throbbing. It's not swollen, and I can move it, so I'm taking those as good signs. But Lord it hurts! What really makes me mad is that I had a long run planned for tomorrow,  and now I wont' be able to do it. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I have the remaining scars from my golf cart accident ; a huge scrape from a deck I fell off in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Telluride&lt;/span&gt;; and a knee that is red, bloody and scabby. I could compete with any 8-year-old boy for the most banged-up looking legs. And to make it worse, I can't shave over all the scabs, so there are patches that have hair spurting from amidst the scabs. See I would beat those 8-year-old boys actually. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm telling you me in a skirt or a dress is a pretty sight these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I'm hoping that my ankle will just get better. I really don't want to go to the doctor. I'm going to see what happens over night. Hopefully a miraculous recovery!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6173603495284052175?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6173603495284052175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6173603495284052175' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6173603495284052175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6173603495284052175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/different-type-of-trip.html' title='A Different Type of Trip'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-3034165661577954530</id><published>2008-01-07T18:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-07T19:19:14.138-08:00</updated><title type='text'>nothing to say</title><content type='html'>I really don' t have much to say. But I feel I should say something, because I pledged long ago that if I was going to have a blog, I would not have blog lags. I hate blog lags. But now I understand them better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I have a zillion things I want to say and write about and regret that I don't have the time to. Other times I have all the time in the world, but I can't commit to one topic. Too often I get into the habit of just treating this like my daily diary, but that's not all that conducive to improving my writing or even keeping it sharp. And I'm sure it's not highly entertaining to read. But it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;therapeutic&lt;/span&gt;, so that counts for something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I guess I could really use some therapy today.  Every aspect of my life is really quite great,. I sailed through most of the day so happy--i worked at my friend's boutique, which I love doing; saw all our preschool friends with our first day back to school; got a couple of late Christmas gifts in the mail; had a playdate with a new neighbhor and thier 4 year old son. All good. Ex&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cept&lt;/span&gt; the fact that our Seattle-area &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;house&lt;/span&gt; STILL sits on the market.  And it's 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two sets of bills, two mortgages, two sets of home &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;improvement&lt;/span&gt; costs; two things that are very difficult to afford on one income. And I shouldn't complain, because we are able to do it. We're draining our savings in the process, but I know I should feel very fortunate that we can do it. Because as I posted yesterday, there are many people worse off. And I could still be sitting my ass in an apartment with plates that spark in a microwave. So yes,  I'm thankful too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for me, money is security. I grew up without a lot of it. And I like to have much more than that. I don't like chipping away at that security net. And month after month our net is getting smaller. And I hate it. It makes me nervous. It makes me obsessive. And I shouldn't be. We're fine. But we worked hard to have some security, and it's going to take so long to build it back up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while I do my best to count our blessings, and I do, I really do;  at the end of the day I can't get this huge white elephant out of my mind--out of my life. We've been patient. We've believed everyting happens for a reason. We've said our prayers. We've been pretty damn (I mean darn) good people. It's our turn. This house has GOT to sell. We're dropping price again this week. It's depressing. But if it sells our house, then so be it. I'm ready to move on with our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So see, this post is nothing you haven't read about from me a zillion times. But at least it's not a lag, right? And I feel a little bit better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-3034165661577954530?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3034165661577954530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=3034165661577954530' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3034165661577954530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3034165661577954530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/nothing-to-say.html' title='nothing to say'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-4323109817644134643</id><published>2008-01-06T17:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T17:34:46.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation at the Park</title><content type='html'>Me: PB be careful, don't get too close to that girl or you will push her off that wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl: Yeah, be careful. We don't have any health insurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If ever there was a political commercial to be made, there you go. She couldn't have been more than 7.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4323109817644134643?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4323109817644134643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4323109817644134643' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4323109817644134643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4323109817644134643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/conversation-at-park.html' title='Conversation at the Park'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-3493479275657450442</id><published>2008-01-04T20:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-05T20:38:04.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'>update</title><content type='html'>I feel like i have both so much and so little to say.&lt;br /&gt;PB has been out of school all week, and since we returned from our trip we've had three days with pretty much no schedule. While at first I feared all these empty days and thought I'd go about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;scheduling&lt;/span&gt; them, I didn't. I just kind of let them unravel.&lt;br /&gt;And after the crazy past few weeks I've had, it was a nice way to go.&lt;br /&gt;We've gone to Costco a couple of times (have I blogged yet about my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;newfound&lt;/span&gt; love for this place? if not, remind me and I will).  We've played games, he's played by himself, we've played with neighbors, we've watched videos and just hung out.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I called my husband right about noon and asked what he was doing for lunch. he said "nothing" so I suggested he come home for lunch so i could go for a quick run. In exchange for a homemade grilled cheese lunch, he did.&lt;br /&gt;It was the first time in a week I'd run, and it was actually great. Only about 3 miles, but nice and got me hungry for more.&lt;br /&gt;Then today, we had two families coming over for dinner and some big football game around 4 p.m. I had a bunch of food to cook, but in my typical Type-A way, I realized I was way ahead of schedule. So in very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;-typical-for-me mode, I decided to put the cleaning and cooking on hold and instead go for another run in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;gorgeous 70-ish&lt;/span&gt; weather. I thought I'd just do three, but instead,  I got in 6 really good miles today. Besides the blisters on my feet that were sprouting ( I think I need new running socks) it was a great run.&lt;br /&gt;And even with the break, tonight's dinner still turned out great. I swear Florida is really relaxing me!  I made some new recipes, including an olive bread that was out of this world courtesy of http://carrisablog.com/carrisa/--and I don't even like olives. (Let me know if you do, and I'll pass along the recipe or you can look it up on her site.) I also made one of my favorite, old pasta  recipes and a great sausage and peppers dish. That plus wine and mixed drinks, a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Cesar&lt;/span&gt; salad, some homemade &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;caramelized&lt;/span&gt; onion dip and another great appetizer with bacon, cream cheese, etc. and we had a great meal. Another family brought &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;cookies&lt;/span&gt; and ice cream, and we were, and are, all full.&lt;br /&gt;Not much is on the docket for tomorrow. Just a few errands and a lot of rest. Not sure my legs are going to be up for another run, but you never know.&lt;br /&gt;Hope you are all having a wonderful weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-3493479275657450442?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3493479275657450442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=3493479275657450442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3493479275657450442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3493479275657450442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/update.html' title='update'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-8206626873677670251</id><published>2008-01-01T18:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T19:04:58.948-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy Trip--part two</title><content type='html'>I should first say that once we got to Telluride, we had a fabulous time. We hung out with my husband's brother and his family. They are wonderful, generous hosts and have a gorgeous place there with gorgeous views of the mountains out every window. They have four children who PB adores and spent ever single second he could with.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was cold, but wonderfully relaxing. I slept in and read a lot--I got through &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tattooed-Girl-Novel-Oates-Joyce/dp/0060531061"&gt;"The Tattooed Girl"&lt;/a&gt; by Joyce Carol Oates, which I loved. Of course, I always love her. And almost finished with &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fine-Balance-Rohinton-Mistry/dp/0375414819/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1199242158&amp;sr=1-2"&gt;"A Fine Balance"&lt;/a&gt; by Rohinton Mistry. It's great too. Different than books I typically like, but really well done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the second night we were there we went to a restaurant, and who do I see sitting at a table less than 20 feet from me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes, Suri and a bunch of their family!!! I was so starstruck! I positioned myself so I could watch them throughout the whole meal. Of course, when I tried to take a picture in the lobby as they were leaving, I was told I would be asked to leave if I did so. Why I didn't just leave and catch them as they were doing so, I'm not sure. My husband caught a couple on his cell phone (no flash), but they're not that good. Oh well, it made my trip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then no sooner had we arrived, was it time to leave. We got to the Telluride airport in plenty of time. They were concerned that if there was any delay we wouldn't make our connection in Denver, so they booked us on a backup flight. We were feeling really good about our return home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN, we got on the plane. It was, without a doubt, the worst, scariest, most horrifying thing I've ever done (with the exception of PB's extremely premature birth). Now, I knew it was going to be bumpy going out over those mountains, but this was more like being shaken angrily by a huge monster holding the plane in his hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And not only was it bumpy, but alarms started going off--TWICE. why? no clue. There were only 12 of us on this little prop plane, no airline attendants, just us and alarms and bumps. The boy behind me threw up, I was screaming and crying. I really thought we might die. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God PB slept through the whole thing, because I would have freaked him out as he was across the aisle from me. How he slept through the whole thing I have NO idea. But so glad he did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally landed, and  I was a mess emotionally, still crying, could barely walk. I knew we missed our original flight, but figured that was for the best as I needed some time (and wine!) to prepare for the final leg of our journey back to Orlando. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I got plenty of time. Remember how they booked us on a backup flight? Yeah, well when we got there, they had NO record of our reservation. That's right, for the THIRD time on this trip Great Lakes lost our reservation. How that's possible, I have no idea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only option was to sit at the airport for eight hours then take a red eye. We were so tired at that point that we just gave up. We found a nearby Embassy Suites, made sure we were there in time for the free happy hour, and added another day to the already marathon trip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally got home around 6 p.m. last night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can say without a doubt that this trip was unforgettable. And I have no desire to get on a plane anytime soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8206626873677670251?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8206626873677670251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8206626873677670251' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8206626873677670251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8206626873677670251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2008/01/crazy-trip-part-two.html' title='Crazy Trip--part two'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-392621934324667020</id><published>2007-12-31T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T18:29:59.098-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Craziest Trip Ever--part one</title><content type='html'>Seriously, I can't even begin to express just how crazy our trip to and from Telluride was. I don't know where to start, except possibly with the fact that Great Lakes airlines is the WORST airline--actually perhaps the worst business--I have EVER encountered. I can't warn you enough to RUN from this airline, do NOT fly them, ever. I seriously can't believe they are even in business. Alright, already I'm off on a tangent, so I should just start from the beginning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left our house at 7 a.m. last Wednesday morning planning to arrive in Telluride at 3 p.m. After a wonderful flight on the amazingly competent Frontier Airlines (who even still serves snacks and has sattelite television in every seat) we arrived in Denver for the remaining 1 hour flight into Telluride. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Delay after delay after delay (with virtually NO updates from the airline) and we're advised that we won't be seeing Telluride that night. Instead we're shuttled off to a hotel. They lose our luggage for hours; we have no coats; Denver is freezing, etc., etc. And we still have no idea why our flight was cancelled. But we feel very fortunate to have acquired a few of the limited seats on a flight out in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next morning we arrive at the airport ready to go, taking it all in stride UNTIL we go to check in and they say they have NO reservation for us. They put us on another flight (btw, this airline doesn't seem to use computers, they do everything by freakin' hand--even our luggage tags). In apology she gives us a "special" stamp on our tickets that's supposed to let us sail through security. Instead we get sent through the puffer machines and a line that's about four times as long as the regular one. Thanks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We run to our gate, worried we would miss our flight. We should have saved our breath because first of all, when we got there, they said they didn't have our reservation!!! Seriously. We told them what had just happened, they said, no we weren't on it, but luckily they found seats for us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were delayed and delayed and delayed again--with no explanation at all. And then once we were finally boarding the plane--we find out we're not even going to freaking Telluride!!! We are instead being diverted to Grand Junction, Colorado (again no explanation why) where we will board a bus crammed with 20 or so other people for a 3-hour ride to telluride--actually about 4 hours with a stop at Wendy's. Keep in mind we have a 4-year-old with us--who was absolutely an angel thank goodness or I would have lost it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally arrived in Telluride about 36 hours after we left our house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is so, so much more to this story, but frankly, my blood pressure is rising just typing this, so I think I need to continue tomorrow. But please tune in again to hear about the highlight of my trip--an amazing celebrity encounter--as well as the un-freakin'-believable trip home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you are all out having a wonderful, crazy time on New Year's Eve. Me? I'm going to catch up on all of your blogs and probably be asleep long before the clock stops 12. Because, if you didn't know, we were scheduled to get home yesterday, but when did I get home? Just a few hours ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-392621934324667020?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/392621934324667020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=392621934324667020' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/392621934324667020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/392621934324667020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/craziest-trip-ever-part-one.html' title='Craziest Trip Ever--part one'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-8564919391014636855</id><published>2007-12-25T17:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-25T17:39:48.402-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas!</title><content type='html'>I hope you have all had a wonderful day! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ours was lovely. It was the first Christmas in a long time where I felt good about the restrtaint I showed. PB just didn't need that much. He has way too much, which I realized very vividly as the moving trucks unloaded and unloaded and unloaded and unloaded boxes marked "Toys". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as I found myself repeatedly wandering the aisels of toys stores not seeing anything new that he didn't have or that I didn't think he would love, I just decided enough was enough. I wasn't going to buy him things just to buy them. We got him a few things, Santa got him a few, other relatives got him a few, and it all ended up to be just enough. Seriously, in years past we (I) have gone crazy, but I feel good about this year. So did he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I showed restraint on the food front too. I didn't cook eight kinds of vegetables, three versions of potatoes and six desserts. I kept it simple, but good. (The goat cheese scalloped potatoes were amazing!)The fact that we're flying out tomorrow morning helped, but it was a good lesson for me. I don't always need to go over and above, sometimes less is just fine. And no one misses it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all packed and ready to head out tomorrow. It's going to be cold, but fun. I'm hoping to stay offline the whole time and just enjoy Telluride. But we'll see...the pull of the internet and blogosphere are awfully strong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8564919391014636855?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8564919391014636855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8564919391014636855' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8564919391014636855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8564919391014636855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas!'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-6371256343973964087</id><published>2007-12-22T19:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T19:36:32.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Checking in</title><content type='html'>I've been a bad blogger, as several friends have reminded me. But really, does any one have time to read blogs this time of year? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's been a very busy, yet very good week. I've gotten tons done, and feel pretty prepared for Christmas and our Colorado trip the following day. I have a menu planned, groceries purchased, presents selected, winter clothes located ,and I've done it all in 75-plus-degree weather, which I just have to say once again--RULES! No coats to carry, no muddy, snowy shoes to deal with, no frozen body parts. just flip flops, a tank top and sunshine. Why doesn't New York move here, seriously?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I ran six miles and felt so great. I didn't anticipate it to be either that long or that strong of a run since it had been about a week since I'd done any exercise, but wow, it was. I thought the wine and champagne I consumed last night during our first ever dinner party at our new house would slow me down, but they didn't. In fact, I think all of the carbs I consumed actually helped. I guess that's why carb loading is such a standard practice. hmm, just what I need---more justification for chips and guac! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While it still needs work in the painting/decorating department, I feel like our new house is coming together. And I love it. It feels like such a good place for us--the neighborhood, the location, everything. But then I got a $300 energy bill for our house back in Washington, and I'm thrown into a spiral of depression thinking of the thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars we're throwing out the window on that mortgage, the upkeep, etc. Seriously, I can't believe we're entering 2008 without a single offer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But back to the positive, PB has been an absolute joy and has just played and played by himself for hours at a time. We've also had some really fun times playing games together, but man does that child have a competitive streak. We're really working on being a good loser, but it's a hard, hard lesson for him. His lip is healing nicely and he's cracking me up all the time with these crazy stories and philosophies of life. He's so excited for Christmas. Although the two things he's been saying he wants ALL YEAR LONG--he will NOT waiver in these--are a pogo stick (hell no for a 4-year-old, especially one who recently got stitches) and a hang glider (a toy one will NOT do--he wants one to sail over swamps, marshes and such). So needless to say, there will be no Christmas wishes coming true for him. Santa will, I'm sure, however provide a note explaining why those aren't safe choices and that he selected some other choices he hopes PB will like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in typical me fashion, I stress and stress about things and then finish WAY before the deadline. So the next two days should be pretty relaxed. I have a few presents to wrap, a neighborhood Christmas party tomorrow afternoon and a few last minute items, but really, I'm just looking forward to hanging out, sleeping in, playing games, watching Christmas specials and drinking wine and champagne :) I wish you all could join me in person!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6371256343973964087?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6371256343973964087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6371256343973964087' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6371256343973964087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6371256343973964087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/checking-in.html' title='Checking in'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-8013582868884069520</id><published>2007-12-18T18:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T19:00:12.181-08:00</updated><title type='text'>At last</title><content type='html'>No, we didn't sell our house. If that's what you were thinking when you read this title. I did, but I'm frankly just too tired to think of another one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking more along the lines of at last, I'm updating my blog. And at last it's beginning to feel like Christmas, as the onsalught of baking, shopping, wrapping really just started for me, oh, about today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me back up a bit. The wedding was great. PB's cold was hideous on the way there, and I really thought they might ask us to get off. We were getting so many dirty looks as he hacked his way there. We went through at least 852 tissues. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we made it, and little by little the cold got better. But not much. He still has it, though we're down to only about 175 tissue a day now. He got the stitches out yesterday, which wasn't as painless as we thought. But he's looking pretty good now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He made it down the aisle as the ringbearer and all in all did a great job. But he was scared, and there were a few tears rolling down his cheeks as the usher helped him down the aisle. He did a great job with pictures and gave great big smiles. And I've never laughed as hard in my life as I did watching him dance with another little 4-year-old boy at the reception. I think they danced 2.5 hours straight--hard and fast. It was hysterical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon landing back in Florida I realized that Christmas was only about a week ago. I have a dinner party to host Friday night, a job interview tomorrow (more about that later, but really who has interviews the week before Christmas?!)and I'm the parent helper for PB's class Christmas party tomorrow afternoon. I don't have a suit, so I've cobbled together a passable outfit...I think. Are scarfs in AT ALL? I hope so, or maybe I'll pretend they're coming back, because I'm wearing one tomorrow. At least the job isn't in the fashion industry, or I definitely wouldn't be getting an offer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, did I mention, I haven't even started my Christmas cards?!!! I LOVE Christmas cards, and usually have them done by June. This year, I don't even have a picture I want to use, much less anything printed, stamped or addressed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, enough babbling. I think it's all the sugar I've consumed. I made about 12 dozen (a dozen dozen!) chocolate-dipped peanut butter balls and 3 pounds of fudge tonight. I still have cookies to make, etc., etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't we all. 'Tis the season...and though I like to complain, I actually love it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8013582868884069520?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8013582868884069520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8013582868884069520' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8013582868884069520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8013582868884069520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/at-last.html' title='At last'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-8707182189883897697</id><published>2007-12-12T17:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T17:54:18.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the Day We've Had</title><content type='html'>I could write so much right now, but I'm just going to give all the dirty details because I'm physically and emotionally exhausted from this day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But here's some of it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked PB up from preschool today around 2. We usually stay and play and run around with his friends. We did the same today, although today he ran smack into a pole. There was lots of blood, lots of screams. He split open his mouth--the skin between the nose and the lip with a big, deep gash. There's some damage to his teeth and his chin has a big bruise. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We already had a doctor's appointment because I had wanted to get his ears checked before our flight tomorrow--he's really prone to ear infections and has had a cold. So we got there a bit early, showed them the bleeding and they got us in right away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now to add to the list of ailments, he has a fever of 101.5, the beginnings of an ear infection and a horrible cough. The doctor decides a plastic surgeon needs to sew up the lip, and becuase we're flying to my brother's wedding tomorrow, it has to be done tongiht. We thankfully find one willing to work us in. Well, work us in meant, us getting there at 5 and not leaving until almost 8 p.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stitches were nothing short of awful. Actually it was the numbing shot that was so bad. He screamed and fought as I cried and sobbed. Thank God my husband was there too. i know parents handle this stuff all time (and much, much worse), but God, It's hard. It's so hard to see your baby hurting and wanting you to stop it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I really need to go pack (because all of what I was supposed to get done this afternoon like buying a wedding present, packing, etc., etc. has not been done.) But the net of is he's going to be swollen, black and blue and stitched for all the wedding pictures. He's going to cranky from the antibiotics for the ear infection, and we're all going to be tired, because it's just been one of those days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we'll make the best of it. Because it's my brother's wedding. And I found a really great dress to wear!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8707182189883897697?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8707182189883897697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8707182189883897697' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8707182189883897697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8707182189883897697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/oh-day-weve-had.html' title='Oh the Day We&apos;ve Had'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-8866554440158169040</id><published>2007-12-11T12:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T13:04:55.636-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Gift</title><content type='html'>So, my friend &lt;a href="http://cheletales.blogspot.com/"&gt;Chele's Tales &lt;/a&gt;posted about &lt;a href="http://presto.com/what-is-presto.aspx"&gt;this device &lt;/a&gt;that allows you to recieve e-mails and photos without ever having to log onto a computer. I passed along the information to my mother who in turn decided with her brothers and sisters to get one for my grandmother who is in an assited living program. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell you how much she loves it! It's such a great idea for anyone you want to keep in touch with who isn't technologicaly savvy. Now all day any of her grandchildren, children, friends etc. can send her messages and pictures and she just picks them up and reads them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in case you have anyone on your list that might like this, I wanted to put in a plug. It has made my grandmother very happy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8866554440158169040?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8866554440158169040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8866554440158169040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8866554440158169040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8866554440158169040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/great-gift.html' title='Great Gift'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-7662470466136490984</id><published>2007-12-10T20:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T20:14:30.704-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Crush</title><content type='html'>I think I may actually like Brody even more than Jason. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, please disregard. You would think so much less of me to know that I think about things like this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those who do know, I bet you are so incredibly proud of me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hint: an MTV reality show is involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. to my credit, you should also know that I did not like Justin Bobby one bit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-7662470466136490984?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7662470466136490984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=7662470466136490984' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7662470466136490984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7662470466136490984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/new-crush.html' title='New Crush'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-8228478347855999799</id><published>2007-12-08T20:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T06:16:25.048-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good</title><content type='html'>Things are just good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I've been taking happy pills lately. Okay, besides my drunken crying fit last weekend (sorry g!), I've just been feeling great for the past couple of weeks. And that's despite the huge black cloud of our house STILL not selling! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's the weather. I don't know. It does freak me out that it's 85 and sunny here, while my parents in Nebraska are at 2 plus zero!!! On the downside, it really doesn't feel like Christmas here, but we're doing our own things to make it feel like the season. And really, I just don't need the snow. Ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mapped out and ran a new 6 mile course today. It was such a great, great run. I'm telling you, I can't believe how much I was missing without an ipod (or any music source) before. There's a park about 3 miles from my house. Then there's a lake at the park that's 1/2 mile around. So it should be easy for me to build my mileage my increasing laps around the lake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB is cracking me up lately. Last night he told me "You're out of your mind mommy" when I asked him to do something. And remember how I told you we're working on not starting sentences with "I want" and instead using "may I please," or other. Well last night in church when he wanted to leave, he stated very loudly "May I PLEASE leave church now."  (sigh) He's also very sweet a lot of the time and cuddly. And he just loves his friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday we had our first playdate here at our new house. He and his best friend C. had so much fun together. His mom is becoming a good friend of mine, which is funny because I didn't see that potential in the beginning really. We seemed really different, but really we have so much in common. So that's nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week is going to be a blur as I run around doing errands, getting ready for Texas, and I still haven't figured out what I'm wearing to my brother's wedding! I've purchased three dresses, but not sure any are right. The last one I bought I think will work, but i need shoes. I know just where to go--my friend G's boutique. I've worked there several times over the past couple of weeks, and it's so fun! Plus, I got my first paycheck, which almost paid for my purchases that day :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8228478347855999799?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8228478347855999799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8228478347855999799' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8228478347855999799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8228478347855999799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/good.html' title='Good'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-5914991227249847957</id><published>2007-12-06T17:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T17:12:59.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Angry</title><content type='html'>I'm so angry at CNN's coverage of the killings in Omaha. Did they not learn anything from the Virginia Tech incident and the backlash of the public who wanted the lives of the victims honored rather than that of the killer? I just went to CNN.com, and I can't even find the names of the victims (and I know they've been released), much less anything about who they were or what their lives were like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet intimate details of the killer's life are there. And it's exactly what he wanted--his suicide note said at least now he'd be famous. How many others out there are going to see that this method works if you're depressed and seeking fame? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying we don't want to/need to see some of that, but my God, please, please provide some balance. Perhaps other media outlets are doing a better job, but CNN.com certainly isn't...and yes, I already sent them a letter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5914991227249847957?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5914991227249847957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5914991227249847957' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5914991227249847957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5914991227249847957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/angry.html' title='Angry'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2294779092637615009</id><published>2007-12-05T18:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-05T18:41:54.317-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pray</title><content type='html'>I can't believe &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/12/05/mall.shooting/index.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; happened. People shot in a mall in my homestate. In a mall I've shopped at countless times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared to see the names of those killed released; scared someone I know will be among them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since moving to the Orlando area, I've been really scared of the crime. I can't really watch the local news because it terrifies me. We moved to a guarded community for a reason. But really, you can't ever be safe. Because as you're Christmas shopping, some crazy, depressed, sad, sick teenager can just open up and end your life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't comprehend this. I can't think about it too much. So I'll pray. For the families of those killed and for the family of the killer. Even for the killer, because I can't imagine how awful life must have been for him to ever do something this awful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2294779092637615009?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2294779092637615009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2294779092637615009' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2294779092637615009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2294779092637615009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/pray.html' title='Pray'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6363422837613325078</id><published>2007-12-04T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T10:27:04.992-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Love</title><content type='html'>I'm in love with my new ipod. I can't tell you how much more fun it is to run with music than just the sounds of traffic. The only thing that's hard is I have to try REALLY hard to keep myself from singing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we moved in two weeks ago, my workout sessions have been few and far between--a couple of classes at the gym and that's about it. I've had too many errands to run, Christmas things to do, etc. But today, the weather was gorgeous, and I made time. I only went three miles, but felt like I could have gone 30. The music is a great motivator for me. I'm going to download more songs tonight! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much to do between now and next week when we leave for Texas, and before Christmas, and before we leave for Telluride. And we're still not compltely unpacked, and I'm hosting Christmas dinner at our house. ARGHHH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6363422837613325078?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6363422837613325078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6363422837613325078' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6363422837613325078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6363422837613325078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/in-love.html' title='In Love'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-511489744973979041</id><published>2007-12-02T18:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-02T19:45:32.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend</title><content type='html'>One thing this weekend taught me is that I'm much, much too told to drink like I used to. I've been dragging all day today. Unfortunately, I seem to keep forgetting this lesson and have to relearn it over and over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was the grand opening party for my friend G's clothing boutique. It's such a great store, filled with beautiful things, and I'm so proud of her! We started with champagne and wine during a late lunch and continued our partying well into the night.It was a lot of fun, and almost worth the headache I had this morning.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday morning was PB's Christmas festival. It was really fun. I ran around helping with this and that, but he had a great time hanging out with his friends and my husband. He even sat on santa's lap for the first time ever without shrieking in fear. He looks concerned in the picutres, but there are no tears. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a nice, lazy day. The weather was gorgeous, and we just ran some errands, played outside and got some stuff done around here. We've met quite a few of our neighbors, and it's so nice to just go outside and chat with them, etc. We didn't have that in our last neighborhood--primarily because the houses were so far apart. This feels like a community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots more I could say about everything, but right now I'm just so sleepy. So i'm going to sleep...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-511489744973979041?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/511489744973979041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=511489744973979041' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/511489744973979041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/511489744973979041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/12/weekend.html' title='Weekend'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2137234569472457359</id><published>2007-11-29T18:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T18:20:03.345-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Lists</title><content type='html'>These days too many sentences around our house start with, "I want..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm know I'm incredibly guilty of it, and I'm trying to be better. But PB is out of control. Perhaps giving him all of those toy magazines isn't such a good idea. At least 'tis the season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday is the Christmas festival at his school, and Santa Claus will be there. In all of his four years, PB has never sat on Santa's lap without screaming, shrieking and making a huge scene. I have great pictures :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year he may actually do it because of all the wants. We'll see. This morning he told me what was on his list, including a hang glider. "Not a toy hang glider." Why? "Because I need to fly over swamps and lakes and rivers and things." Also top of his list is a pogo stick. I don't think they make those in his size. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I've decided to start taking bets on if you think he'll actually make it down the aisle as ring bearer at my brother's wedding in two weeks. We've been talking about it for a long time; how it's a very important job; and how he'll even how he'll get cake afterward. We've also told him how a little boy his age (my brother's friend's son)Will will be there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB was fine with all of that...until he had to try on the tux. Now, not so much. The other day out of the blue he said, "I think Will should do it." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I had know idea who or what he was talking about. Then I got it. And it's come up repeatedly since. Tonight at dinner, "I think Will should wear the special outfit." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're pre-bribing. Currently we're up to two pieces of cake and a toy. I wonder what bribes we'll end up having to cough up to actually make it happen. Hmmm...makes you wonder why with such great parenting skills, he starts so many sentences with "I want".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2137234569472457359?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2137234569472457359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2137234569472457359' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2137234569472457359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2137234569472457359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/christmas-lists.html' title='Christmas Lists'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-4502658339209535851</id><published>2007-11-28T19:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T20:10:29.382-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Running Songs</title><content type='html'>Thanks to my wonderful friend J, who sent me an itunes card!, I now have some songs on my ipod. Our desktop has been fixed--hooray!--and my husband set my account all up and told me to go for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I downloaded my first choice song, which I thought was called, "I would walk 10,000 miles." Actually it's called "I would be (500 miles)." so I was a few miles off, but I still think it's a great song to run to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I sat and stared at the screen... and stared some more. My husband always teases me about having 1 million favorite songs. As in every time I hear a song, I say, "turn it up, that's my favorite song." But for the life of me I couldn't think of any songs I wanted. I finally came up with a few: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to do my John Lennon fav--"Beautiful Boy". Then I thought the tempo of "Fat Bottomed Girls" by the Who would be good. I searched for popular running songs and added and "Hollaback girl" by Gwen Stefani, which is good. I rounded it out with "Add it Up" by the Violent Femmes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just feels like so much pressure--picking the right songs. What those songs may say about me if someone should look through my playlists. What is really worth my 99 cents? 50 cent maybe? ha ha! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I stopped at five. I'm sure they'll start coming to me and I'll soon be a downloading junkie. But for now, at least I have five. And I can't wait to go for a run!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4502658339209535851?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4502658339209535851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4502658339209535851' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4502658339209535851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4502658339209535851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/running-songs.html' title='Running Songs'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-7808170694223006602</id><published>2007-11-27T18:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T19:02:48.275-08:00</updated><title type='text'>computers</title><content type='html'>So now, not only is our desktop not working, our laptop is dead too. UGH! It's driving me crazy having no computer all day. I have to wait until my husband brings his home from work. We're going to have to fix this situation soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, I've been so busy unpacking, running errands and getting ready for Christmas, that I haven't had too much time to miss it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went to the mall to get some Christmas shopping done. Last year I received a gift certificate from Crate and Barrel that for some strange reason I STILL haven't spent. That's soo very unlike me--usually I spend money before I even have it. So today I browsed around and bought a new skillet, which was very practical as I need one. And then I bought a new fondue pot. Now I have a big fondue pot, but I rarely use it because it's big and needs sterno. This is just a cute little one that heats with a single tea light. It came with metal skewers and all for like $17. So guess what we had for dinner? Apples and cheese; whole grain bread and cheese; anything we could find to dip in cheese. And a big old salad. That's my idea of a perfect dinner. Okay, perfect would have been if we followed up with chocolate fondue, but we didn't go there...yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the unpacking front, we're doing well. I would like to say (and would have predicted I could do so) that we're all finished. But we're not. The playroom just completely overwhelms me. I'm trying to sort out "baby" toys and organize; and all PB wants to do is get everything out of the boxes and bags I'm trying to move. I totally understand as he hasn't seen his stuff in forever, but it's not very productive. And the older the get, the smaller the toy parts get. And there are oh so, so many of them--EVERYWHERE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, it will get done at some point. I'm really not stressing myself out about it. I'm just so happy to finally be home!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-7808170694223006602?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7808170694223006602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=7808170694223006602' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7808170694223006602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7808170694223006602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/computers.html' title='computers'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2423991761325242992</id><published>2007-11-25T16:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T16:41:44.011-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gift</title><content type='html'>A couple of weeks ago I was talking to my brother. I was telling him how among the many other things I've put on hold until our house sells is the purchase of an ipod. Since I've started running again, I so want one. Back when we had just one mortgage, I would have just gone out and bought one. Now, as I watch our life savings flying out the window each month, I've become much, much more frugal. And so I have remained ipod-less, coveting all the white cords sprouting from the ears of the others I pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Friday I saw the mailman walking up to our door with a package. It was from my brother--a housewarming gift he had told me was on the way. I opened it up expecting a candle or gift certificate or something. But instead, there it was--my very own ipod Nano! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a nice and completely unexpected surprise. There are too few of those in life I find, and I absolutely love them--both creating them for others and receiving them. He said he just thought I needed one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I too will sport the white ear buds, and I'm so excited to go out and run with it. Except that in the move, our computer (desktop) is now not working. (Small vent--my husband spent a small fortune "building" a computer so it would have these special graphics features, etc., etc. He ordered all the parts separately, then had some super tech guy help him "build it." This was about six months ago, and since it's all special, it's not like it's under warranty and we can just send it back. So now, the super tech guy is back in Washington and my husband has no idea how to fix it--can you sense my irritation??? I knew it was a bad idea when he set off to do it in the first place. We should have just got a freakin' Dell or something. But I digress). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I can't wait to start downloading some music and getting my running list down. I need input on good songs you love to run to (or think you would like to run to if you did indeed run)??? For whatever reason, the first song I want to download is "I would walk 10,000 miles". No idea why that's my first choice. It's not my favorite song or anything, it just pops into my head sometimes when I'm running. Let me hear yours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Of course the whole experience also left me a little depressed as I think about my wonderful brother and other siblings, and how PB (probably) won't have any. Who will buy him an ipod someday? Who will he get to surprise like that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2423991761325242992?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2423991761325242992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2423991761325242992' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2423991761325242992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2423991761325242992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/gift.html' title='Gift'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-7184632428318068169</id><published>2007-11-22T19:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T19:42:16.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From Amidst the Boxes</title><content type='html'>Happy Thanksgiving! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently thankful that we're back online! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The move went great--most of our stuff arrived in one piece, and I've been happily finding spaces for all of our things, purging tons and just getting us all set up. It's been fun, but absolutely exhausting. Fortunately, I've been able to fall into my long-lost, huge, ultra comfy, king-sized bed each night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB is so happy with a new playroom and rediscovering all of his toys. Unfortunately, he's been most excited by his drum set, which we've heard A LOT of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in LOVE with my new shower that is so big I can dance in--and have. It's like a whole room. Do you think showering can become an addiction? :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took a break from the boxes and went to my husband's parents today, where we had a lovely turkey dinner. I think I ate 52 pounds of potatoes. I love potatoes. Well, really, I love potaotes when they're in the form of a potatoe casserole with butter, cheese, sour cream, buttered corn flakes on top--you know the one? I rarely eat it, but when I do, I can't get enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just heated up some leftovers his mom sent home with us. And I could very easily finish off the rest tonight. I love the turkey, but besides that all I really need is this fattening, artery-cloggin dish. Keep your pumpkin pie, stuffing, cranberry sauce, salads, etc., just give me my midwestern staple! Yummm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much more to blog about. So much more to be thankful for. But right now, I think I need to go eat more potatoes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-7184632428318068169?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7184632428318068169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=7184632428318068169' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7184632428318068169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7184632428318068169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/from-amidst-boxes.html' title='From Amidst the Boxes'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-163993399247759895</id><published>2007-11-19T18:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T18:40:34.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Move</title><content type='html'>So for the past several days we've been loading up the cars and taking bags, boxes and suitcases of stuff to the new house. You would not believe the crazy enormous amounts we've accumulated since moving here. Of course, since none of our furniture is there yet, there's really nowhere to put said stuff, but it's still nice to have it there spread all over the floors, counters, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is the big day when "the men in the big trucks come". We've been talking about them for so, so long, and now they will be here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband asked his mother to come up and clean our current apartment, which has me a bit frazzled. I've hardly cleaned since we moved in as I didn't really want to acknowledge we were going to be here long. So I've spent a good part of today cleaning so that she can in turn clean tomorrow and not see the grossness this place has become. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news--got PB fitted for a TUX today! My brother is getting married in December and PB's the ring bearer. So cute. I'm thinking I'm going to wait to do Christmas cards until after that and just send them out late, as I know it will be a great photo op and I have not done anything else in that department yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, we have belatedly decided to go to Telluride the day after Christmas. It was not what I was planning, but it will be a lot of fun. My husband's (I've got to think of a good acronym for him) brother has a gorgeous place there and is footing the bill for our tickets in the spirit of the season. They have four incredible kids who PB adores, and we will do all sorts of fun, winter, snowy things. So while it will be fun, there's going to be a lot going on the next month in addition to my unpacking and organizing. Oh well, that's the way I like it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not sure when I'll be up and running online again, hopefully soon. But if you don't hear from me for a couple days, just assume that I'm lost blissfully among the boxes of my things... at last!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-163993399247759895?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/163993399247759895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=163993399247759895' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/163993399247759895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/163993399247759895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/on-move.html' title='On the Move'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-5746458649828049008</id><published>2007-11-17T18:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T18:36:14.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation at the Park</title><content type='html'>PB: Mommy, I'm spider man and you're bat girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: No, I don't want to be bat girl, I want to be super girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB: Mommy, you don't always get to be who you want to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TOUCHE!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5746458649828049008?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5746458649828049008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5746458649828049008' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5746458649828049008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5746458649828049008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/conversation-at-park.html' title='Conversation at the Park'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2455419640996273879</id><published>2007-11-16T19:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T19:21:37.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We Have Keys</title><content type='html'>We got the keys to our new house today--hooray! PB and I played there for quite some time and had a great time. "This is my guest bedroom." "This is where my guests will go to the bathroom." an on and on as he showed me &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;his&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; house. It will be so good for him to get settled. I can not even wait to see how excited he is when he sees all of his toys that he hasn't seen in five months! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way out of the development we stopped at a lemonade stand some children were hosting. They were some of the nicest, most polite children ever. They talked and talked to me, asked questions and were very impressed that we moved all the way from Seattle. "You mean the Washington one?" a boy asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another red-headed girl who was 10 (they all had to tell me their ages) asked me, "Are you Jewish or Christian?" I'm not sure I've ever been outright asked that question, but she was so incredibly sweet and very okay with my Christian status. She just wanted to make sure I knew what a Bar Mitzvah was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're excited. But it was also a little anticlimactic because all of the things that I want to do and buy for the house are going to have to wait...until that little matter of Seattle house selling happens. I'm going to have to wait to paint, wait to get new patio furniture, wait to get new rugs, etc. And that sucks. But I'm into counting my blessings (or trying to be), so strike that negativity I just typed. I'm just excited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2455419640996273879?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2455419640996273879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2455419640996273879' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2455419640996273879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2455419640996273879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/we-have-keys.html' title='We Have Keys'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-1862282760384992044</id><published>2007-11-14T18:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T18:20:31.101-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch</title><content type='html'>I took a boxing class yesterday. Not a kickboxing class, but a real-life don-your-gloves, hit-a-big-huge-bag, boxing class. It was kind of intense, especially as I was paired to spar (I think that's what I did) with the toughest looking chick in the place. I definitely got out some aggression and learned a few things, but I wasn't feeling particularly exhausted afterward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, however, every muscle in my upper body and quite a few in my lower body are throbbing. My hands, fingers, wrists, forearm, and just go on from there. Wow! Not something I plan to do regularly, as I prefer more dance-y kinds of things when it comes to classes. But it was a good brush up on my upper cut, etc. You never know when it could come in handy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, guess what I wore today? A tank dress and sandals. And it's November 14. It's so freaky. Not in a bad way, just in a wow way. People here complain about missing the seasons, I'm not so sure I will. We'll see. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couldn't contain my cooking bug any longer, and made a big dinner tonight though still apartment bound. &lt;a href="http://www.codegeekstail.com/"&gt;Wes&lt;/a&gt; linked to a recipe for Chicken Marsala he had made, and as it's among my favorite dishes, I had to try it. It was excellent. I made that along with some garlic mushrooms, roasted asparagus and whole wheat pasta. Yumm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And soon, I'll be able to cook to my heart's content, or at least as long as my jeans still fit. We get the keys to our new house on Friday! Woo hoo--we're very excited, but I won't use an exclamation point as we still haven't sold our damn house. Lowered price by another 20K today, we'll see what that does...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-1862282760384992044?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/1862282760384992044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=1862282760384992044' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1862282760384992044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1862282760384992044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/ouch.html' title='Ouch'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-8364574501426652032</id><published>2007-11-13T10:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T14:11:51.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Names</title><content type='html'>"Stinky", "Poopy Head", "Stupid" and "Buster. Those are some of the names PB said a boy in his class called him. I burst out laughing on "Buster" and then quickly tried to regain a serious, concerned expression. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then when I walked up to get him from preschool yesterday, I saw a kid sitting next to him proceed to hit PB on top of his head with his FIST. The teacher (who is great) was just saying goodbye to another child, and PB returned the hits, as I'm yelling for both of the to stop. I don't know what happened to prompt this, but fists? not okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His teacher handled it well, and we talked briefly that there's a lot of this going on at recess time lately, etc. She said PB is not the only one being called names, or getting hit, and they're all doing more of this lately. But PB is very sensitive, and it all seems to be bothering him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's unavoidable, but I hate this. He's never called people names before; and now he is. And I'm sure that there was a kid who taught each and every kid that does it to do it, but still, it makes me want to cry for the loss of his innocence, which seems diminished little by little. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're good kids in his class from "good" families, and it's a great, loving preschool environment. I don't know if there's more they (or we) could or should be doing, or if this is just the inevitable start of years and years to come of this sort of thing. Probably the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me state very clearly that I don't think PB is innocent in all of these situations. In fact, I'm sure he's the instigator in many. I'm so truly not one of those parents who think their child can do no wrong. In fact, I probably error on the other side, and first question what he did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to bring this subject up to a couple of other moms in his class this morning. Wrong move! Talk about defensive and pointing fingers. I wasn't even going there, I just really was looking for some comments like, "yep this is the age," or "it's so hard to see it start happening." Or maybe we'd talk to the teacher and see what she had to say. But I got something totally different, that really isn't even worth going into. Navigating parental politics is a whole other topic for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Sigh!) I just want to make sure I do the right things and give PB the tools he needs to navigate his youth successfully and without too much heartache. His new thing is "I always stick up for myself." I have no idea where he got this. And I'm glad he does. But should he really have to when he's 4-years-old? I know the answer is yes, but my heart says no. And I don't want him to turn around and emulate the inappropriate behavior he's seeing in others, but I know he will... I guess that's what parents are for and why parenting is a tough job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8364574501426652032?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8364574501426652032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8364574501426652032' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8364574501426652032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8364574501426652032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/names.html' title='Names'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-7380369323038988346</id><published>2007-11-12T06:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T06:40:25.306-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back</title><content type='html'>I'm back. It was a great trip. The leaves were gorgeous, and it was so good to see the mountains and the hills and the incredibly beautiful scenary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to spend time, though not enough, with some of my wonderful friends. It was so good to catch up in person. I miss them so much, but know that it really doesn't matter where we live, we will always be friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The move went as well as I could have possibly hoped. The team of packers and movers were awesome, efficient and friendly. Our stuff is finally on the way!!! They think it will be here on 11/20, which is only EIGHT MORE DAYS!!! We can't wait. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The redeye flight home left me completely exhausted. I slept a couple hours yesterday when I got home, but it wasn't enough. Neither was going to bed at 8:30 p.m. last night. I'm still feeling out of it, and hope I didn't pick up a bug along the way, as my throat is feeling scratchy... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it was a good trip. It was such a mix of emotion--sadness at leaving my empty house--a house that I loved--sadness of leaving my friends. But also a realization about how much I'm looking forward to our new life here in Florida. And how much I really like the sunshine!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-7380369323038988346?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7380369323038988346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=7380369323038988346' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7380369323038988346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7380369323038988346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/back.html' title='Back'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-7829145477408104151</id><published>2007-11-06T07:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T17:29:05.398-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just in Case</title><content type='html'>I don't like to fly. I don't hate it in a totally terrified way like some people, but I never like to be out of control. And bumps and the like scare me... a lot. But usually a glass of wine before I board, and I'm fine. Unfortunately, tomorrow my flight is at 7:15 a.m. so I don't think I can do wine that early. I'll just have to be brave. Plus, the cab is picking me up at 4:30 a.m. so I may just be too tired to be scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I have PB and my husband flying with me, I'm much better. Because really my fear of flying/dying is just a fear of leaving them. I think of all the things I wouldn't be able to tell, show and teach PB as he grows. I think of my husband marrying another woman and how she would wouldn't do things the way I want them done. And I cry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So just to make myself feel better, I'm going to make a list of some of the things I would want him to know if, God forbid, something happens to me. It's a small and very incomplete list, but at least it would be something to let him know the lessons I intend to teach him. So here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Care about people and what makes them unique.&lt;br /&gt;Ask questions.&lt;br /&gt;Be kind.&lt;br /&gt;Love to learn for the sake of learning.&lt;br /&gt;Read voraciously.&lt;br /&gt;Travel as much as possible.&lt;br /&gt;Without good health, nothing else matters. Take care of yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Buy the best quality your budget allows.&lt;br /&gt;Be passionate about life and your interests.&lt;br /&gt;Don't be afraid to fail.&lt;br /&gt;Appreciate the arts and respect nature.&lt;br /&gt;Count your blessings every single day.&lt;br /&gt;Love passionately and wholly even if you get your heart might get broken.&lt;br /&gt;Don't be afraid of change. Embrace it.&lt;br /&gt;Don't waste too much time planning because life usually doesn't care about your plans.&lt;br /&gt;Don't ever use religion to justify hatred or bigotry. &lt;br /&gt;Be confident in yourself, yet humble.&lt;br /&gt;Realize how small your world is, and see beyond it.&lt;br /&gt;Pray.&lt;br /&gt;Always look your best; appearance does matter.&lt;br /&gt;Learn to love exercise--it's the secret to much health (mental and physical) and happiness.&lt;br /&gt;Listen well. &lt;br /&gt;Always strive to be the best at whatever you do, but don't quit when you're not.&lt;br /&gt;Good manners and good grammar are golden keys and will open many doors for you.&lt;br /&gt;Family is precious. &lt;br /&gt;Friends should be treasured.&lt;br /&gt;People change. &lt;br /&gt;Sometimes friendships end or need to be ended, and that's okay.&lt;br /&gt;Have courage to stand up and do the right thing. always.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever you chose to do, do it passionately, or it's not worth doing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's so much, much more. And actually I hope that over the years I can continually add to this list and go back to it and see how we're all doing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with that, I'm off to finish packing and try to get a few hours of sleep. I doubt I'll have much time to post while I'm gone, but I bought a brand new notebook, so I'll write when I'm gone and upload when I return. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to hear from anyone of you--what are the most important messages/qualities you want to install in your children--whether they're already born or not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-7829145477408104151?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7829145477408104151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=7829145477408104151' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7829145477408104151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7829145477408104151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/just-in-case.html' title='Just in Case'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2557828846204038233</id><published>2007-11-05T09:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T19:45:24.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall</title><content type='html'>The weather has been glorious for the past several days. It actually feels a little bit like Fall--mid 70s, cool crisp air. We slept with the windows open all weekend, and it's such a relief to be void of the recycled air. It's so nice to put on a pair of jeans, to make chili. Not that I need snow and real cold--really, I don't--but this is a nice change. If I could wear a sweater or sweatshirt on top, and flip flops on the bottom all winter, I would be thrilled. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went for a run this morning--6 miles--and it felt great.I could feel the colder air in my lungs, but in a good way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Packing tomorrow for my return to Seattle. Because I only have summer clothes here, I probably won't pack much. I will, however, take our two biggest suitcases so that I can bring some things back after I hit Trader Joe's and the Hannah Anderson outlet! Of course, all of the many, many items I will buy at Trader Joe's won't fit in my suitcase. So I intend to fully stock my pantry with TJ's items so that the packers can them come in and box it all up and move it out here to the TJ-less desert of Florida. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting more and more sad about leaving PB. But also getting really excited to just sit on the plane (in first class--thank you miles!) and read and be someone other than the mom with the toddler the entire plane fears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2557828846204038233?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2557828846204038233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2557828846204038233' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2557828846204038233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2557828846204038233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/fall.html' title='Fall'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-1788864603934134888</id><published>2007-11-04T15:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T15:17:53.348-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing</title><content type='html'>No word on the house. Frustrated to say the least. But trying not to let it consume me. Moving on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night was lots of fun. Great to catch up with a good friend, drank a bunch of wine and stayed up too late.  A pizza at 2 a.m. did wonders absorbing the alcohol, and I actually felt pretty good the next day though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather here has been gorgeous--high 70s, so we went to the park, to Sea World and generally tried to get out of the apartment as much as possible. I did a dance class on Friday at my gym, but wasn't able to fit in a run yesterday or today, which was a bummer. But the weather is supposed to stay so I'm hoping to get two good runs in tomorrow and Tuesday before I fly off to Seattle on Wednesday morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it, sorry so boring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-1788864603934134888?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/1788864603934134888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=1788864603934134888' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1788864603934134888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1788864603934134888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/nothing.html' title='Nothing'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6503438192698053374</id><published>2007-11-02T12:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T12:22:14.431-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Ready to Party</title><content type='html'>One of my good friends from college is town for the weekend for a conference. So I'm picking her up tonight, and we're hitting the town. She's staying down by all the theme parks, andI'm staying at her hotel with her. That means the wine can flow, and I don't have to worry about driving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will quickly turn to champagne flowing if we get the offer on our house--they're there right now! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a good weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6503438192698053374?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6503438192698053374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6503438192698053374' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6503438192698053374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6503438192698053374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/getting-ready-to-party.html' title='Getting Ready to Party'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-5278802135149610978</id><published>2007-11-01T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T20:38:03.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Lied</title><content type='html'>Okay, I know I said that I wasn't going to post anymore about my house until it sold, but I just can't help it. I'm sitting here on 8 billion pins and 12 gazillion needles waiting for word on what could be it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one of the couples who loved our house and was supposed to make a decision last weekend. And the did. But they decided on another house. The other house itself is NOT nicer than ours. Ours is bigger, nicer, more updated, etc. I will give it to them for neighborhood--it's a nice one, but the real tipping point I think came down to the fact that the other house has a swimming pool. Now, in Florida a pool was a requirement for me. In rainy Seattle, however, I would personally avoid a house if it had a pool. All the care, risk, etc. would not be worth it to me for the 2 days a year you could swim. But to each his/her own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we thought we lost them, but they said if the inspection didn't work, we were their backup. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what????? the inspection didn't work out and they walked!!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night their agent said an offer would likely be coming our way soon. They wanted to go back one more time (I totally get that and we do the same thing) and then if they decide to go with ours they want to close in two weeks--we can do that!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's far from a done deal, because really an offer does not necessarily mean it will be an offer we like (although we're so flexible now). But it's hope! It's the closest we have been to some financial relief, and I can't even stand how perfect it would be if it happened in these two weeks right before we move into our new home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, please pray, send positive vibes and anything else in your arsenal our way! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's only 7:30 p.m. there now, so perhaps the offer is being written as we "speak". Ugh, it's going to be hard to sleep tonight!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5278802135149610978?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5278802135149610978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5278802135149610978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5278802135149610978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5278802135149610978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-lied.html' title='I Lied'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-8953062604950821635</id><published>2007-10-31T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T18:46:50.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween in the 'Hood</title><content type='html'>What a fun, tiring, sugar-filled day we had. We started right after school pickup this afternoon. First we took PB and his friend C to get some food. We thought perhaps getting some "real food" into them before the sugar would be wise. Plus we were trying to kill time before our husbands' work trick or treating and party began. Good thing we did that, because the only things PB ate between then (about 2:30 p.m.) and the time he went to bed, were chocolate, sugar and whatever makes up Pez. He may have gotten a little bit of apple peel in there while eating the caramel off of a caramel apple, but it's unlikely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the work thing was fun. He had C had a blast together and really behaved quite well. Then we had decided to go to our new neighborhood and do a little more, see what some of the neighbors were like and generally scope things out. I was really hesitant to do it, as I thought it might seem weird. But other moms at preschool all convinced me to, so we called the current owners and they put us on the list to be let into the gates (the security there is tight!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first door we knocked on was across the street from what will be our new home in a few weeks. The family there was so incredibly nice and welcoming. We didn't even have to introduce ourselves, as they said the current owners had told us we were coming, and they had seen our car pull up. They invited us to join their caravan and go trick or treating with them and their (our new) neighbors! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We happily accepted, and next thing you knew we both had beers in our hands, and PB was in someone's wagon with a new glow stick around his neck. We went around with three families, their nine kids and a party wagon full of wine and beer. I swear every other family walking around had wine glasses, cocktails or beer bottles. Could this be a more perfect neighborhood for me?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were all so nice and friendly, and there were tons of children everywhere. There were three 4-year-olds just in our group! I'm so glad we decided to go, and now I'm even more excited to move in! Now if I could just stop eating this candy so I will fit through the door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8953062604950821635?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8953062604950821635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8953062604950821635' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8953062604950821635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8953062604950821635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/halloween-in-hood.html' title='Halloween in the &apos;Hood'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2546568061980852974</id><published>2007-10-31T10:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T10:17:24.824-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Win!</title><content type='html'>See that icon on the side of the page that says you can win a PINK Dyson? You should enter. #1--because Dyson's are the best, and I love, love, love my yellow one; and #2) I'm sure it works even better if it's PINK. How much fun would that make vacuming?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2546568061980852974?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2546568061980852974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2546568061980852974' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2546568061980852974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2546568061980852974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/win.html' title='Win!'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2716290071448495998</id><published>2007-10-30T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T18:40:12.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drumroll Please</title><content type='html'>"Drum roll please, Mommy," PB commanded today as he... took cards out of a box. &lt;br /&gt;Not sure that was worthy of a drum roll, but it made me laugh, as I have no idea where he got it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think a drum roll could be in order as I tell you about the school I visited (and liked!) today. It was a .......................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;drumroll ......................................................................................................................................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catholic school! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After suffering through 12 years of mediocre education in Catholic schools, I would have punched you in the face (stealing from that song) if you had said I would ever send my children to one. Not because I have anything against the Catholic part--I'm a regular mass goer and all--but because frankly I thought the education I got sucked. Okay, it didn't suck, but it really was not good. And I think I had a lot of potential that was seriously overlooked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I say this to my mother and her response to me is--"look how well you all turned out". And yes, my brother is a brilliant law professor and yes my sister is at Harvard Law School and yes, we all have done some cool things BUT think of how much better we could have done if we had gone to actual good schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear I would have a singing career right now if the only music I'd ever been exposed to before high school hadn't been from Sister Roseanne--a tone deaf nun with a bell who only knew the song "Polly Wolly Doodle". Or I could very well have been a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader if they hadn't squashed my dreams and made me draw myself as a nun instead during vocations week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of my (underpaid) teachers were dull and unimaginative. We lacked extracurricular activities. I was green with envy listening to the amazing things my friends in public schools got to do. But to my parents, our eternal souls were much more important than where we would go to college, so in Catholic schools we all stayed. (In high school I did plead my case and escape to public school for about a year--but that's another story for another time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now as I try to make the momentous decision of where to send my son next year--for Pre-K and then beyond--I've been making the rounds of all the Orlando-area schools, doing my research. And to be fair, I put the Catholic school of the parish we plan to join on the list. I figured I'd do my due diligence, be able to tell my mother that while it was a nice school, I didn't feel it was the best fit for PB, blah, blah, blah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what? It might be the best fit. I loved it! I loved the principal who spent an hour with me. I loved the teachers and parents I met and the adorable children in all their little plaid uniforms. I love their philosophies, the charity work the children do and the general familial environment. Academically, they rock and they have a great extracurricular activities to boot. And bonus of all bonus, it's much cheaper than the other private schools I've visited. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm thrilled...and a little surprised at how much I liked it there. How right it felt. I still have more touring to do--including an open house on Sunday for one of the area's fanciest schools. But I'm feeling good about the options I've found.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2716290071448495998?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2716290071448495998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2716290071448495998' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2716290071448495998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2716290071448495998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/drumroll-please.html' title='Drumroll Please'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-4452107022519886587</id><published>2007-10-29T17:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T18:19:37.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Roots Be Gone</title><content type='html'>At last my hair doesn't resemble a chocolate-dipped banana of which someone has eaten the chocolate off of the bottom half!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had (and kept!) my highlight appointment this morning after the last fiasco. And it all went fine. It looks fine. The stylist did a fine job. And the place was fine. Not fabulous, but fine. Hmmm, how to describe the vibe there? Well, let's start with the music. I can't get Barry Manilow's "Mandy" out of my head. You get the idea?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Were they friendly, courteous and prompt? Did they listen to what I wanted? check, check, check check. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why won't I go back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's kind of like dating, and I'm drawn to the bad boys of the hair world. Anyone who knows me in real life knows that when it comes to real life men, I'm so not a bad boy girl, but it's different with hair salons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want the salon to be snooty and bossy and think they know what's best for me. I want to feel like I have to impress them when I show up so I'll get the best service. I want to have to beg for them to fit me in for an appointment two months out. I don't want them selling themselves to me. I want to want them more than they want me because they have millions of others who will quickly take my place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while my hair is now majorly improved, and I had an overall good experience, my quest for the perfect salon will continue. And who knows, once I go through enough bad boys, maybe I'll decide that nice is after all what's best for me...and my hair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4452107022519886587?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4452107022519886587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4452107022519886587' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4452107022519886587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4452107022519886587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/roots-be-gone.html' title='Roots Be Gone'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2978939849548024559</id><published>2007-10-28T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T17:26:09.686-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend Wrap</title><content type='html'>Nothing much to report from this weekend--no housing news, and I'm not posting anymore about that whole mess until we get an offer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got in two great runs--one yesterday--about 2.5 miles in the rain; and 5.5 miles today where I felt super strong. I'm exhausted right now, but I felt great while I was doing it. I keep looking for my next race, but haven't found it yet. Too many things going on with holidays, the move and all, so it may be January before I actually get into another one. And that's okay. Then next summer I plan to start the marathon training program. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to PB's school Fall Festival today. It was cute and he had a blast with a little girl from his class. They were so cute together, held hands the entire time and kept giving each other hugs. She was even fixing his shirt collar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it, I really have nothing too interesting to tell you. Hopefully tomorrow, I'll be able to report about how fabulous my hair looks. Because finally, after all this time, I'm actually getting the very, very overdue highlights I so desperately need. My luck in the hair department here hasn't been good, so I'm hoping tomorrow breaks that pattern.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2978939849548024559?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2978939849548024559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2978939849548024559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2978939849548024559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2978939849548024559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/weekend-wrap.html' title='Weekend Wrap'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-5788115619896191921</id><published>2007-10-26T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T20:25:57.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You're Going to Think I'm Such A DORK</title><content type='html'>Okay, I'm totally stuck on You Tube listening to every song that pops into my head. I still wish I knew how to post the links the "right" way like everyone else with the pictures and all, but I'm too inpatient to try and figure it out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I just have to share with you one of my all time favorite songs. I sang it to PB over and over and over and over and over while I held him in the NICU. And I stil sing it to him almost daily. I change some of the words so it's more about him and I. I don't know what it is about this incredibly simple song. Maybe it's because my mother used to sing it at the top of her lungs as she cleaned house and spun this on our huge record player/piece of furniture that took up half of our living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For whatever reason, even as I'm incredibly depressed, crying about our housing situation, this song can still make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here you go, and get ready, because you're going to know what a real dork I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xb6YRJX25z0&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5788115619896191921?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5788115619896191921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5788115619896191921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5788115619896191921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5788115619896191921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/youre-going-to-think-im-such-dork.html' title='You&apos;re Going to Think I&apos;m Such A DORK'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-4210663361749080807</id><published>2007-10-26T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T19:37:14.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful Boy</title><content type='html'>Had another amazing day with PB just doing nothing. For 20 minutes we laid with our heads beneath his window, a blanket over us, watching the curtains blow. Our conversation (condensed, but you'll get the gist):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I want you to remember not to get too close to that window, because you could fall out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB: What would happen then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You would fall down and get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB: Would you come and get me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes, I would come and get you no matter where you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB: Would you come get me from a cave?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes, I'd come get from a cave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB: What kind of cave?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Any kind of cave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB: What about a volcano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes, from any kind of volcano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB: Okay, I'm going to love you always. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: TEARS!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, found this video of song I've loved for years. I appreciated it and was touched by it as a teenager, now I can barely listen to it without bursting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_imwld_WzI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. anyone know how I can put the whole picture from the video here instead of just the url??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4210663361749080807?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4210663361749080807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4210663361749080807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4210663361749080807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4210663361749080807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/beautiful-boy.html' title='Beautiful Boy'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2983460625603006918</id><published>2007-10-25T12:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T13:40:44.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Him and I</title><content type='html'>PB didn't have school today. I'm not sure why, but none of the public schools around here did. Anyway, we made no plans and woke up with no set idea what to do. After some discussion we decided to start at the gym where he loves to go. I had a great workout and shower, and he had a blast playing with the kids and in and on all the equipment there. In fact, he was crying so hard when I picked him up that I thought something terrible had happened. But when he could finally talk, he said he was just sad he had to leave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we headed to a cute little park in the new town we'll be living in. They had a nice playground, a lake that we strolled around and tons of ducks to feed. The weather was nice and cool--definitely the coolest by far since we arrived in Florida. In fact, I wished I had a jacket. I guesstimated it to be in the mid 60s, but I'm in fact a horrible guesstimator because it's actually 78. People said our blood would thin here in Florida, and we'd become wimps. But being from hearty Midwestern stock, I pishawed them. Now I'm scared. If I'm shivering in 78, what am I going to do when I go back to Seattle where today's temp reads 50?!!! I can't even think about visiting my parents in Nebraska this winter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after a lovely, cool morning at the park, we went and had a nice lunch together. We chatted about his school, friends and how he misses Washington, but likes it here. And the icing--he's actually napping right now. (I had to trick him into it, but it's a nap!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love days like this when it's just him and I, and I get to focus all of my attention on just enjoying him. I'm so amazed at how he's grown, the evolution of his thoughts and the absolutely limitless imagination he has. His heart is so good and pure, and looks up at me like I know all and can fix all. I tear up just looking at him sometimes because I know how fleeting this time is and how quickly he'll realize I can't fix everything and be everything for him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Already he tells me where he would like me to stand when I pick him up from school and what I should and should not say. He told me the other day that he does NOT like "that word crabby". And he really doesn't like people saying "bless you" for some reason--I think because it implies he sneezed, which he always denies right after doing so. Of course, he also denies falling down, pinching his fingers, or anything that hurts him. He just says it didn't happen and will argue adamantly until you wonder if it really did--even though you just witnessed it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I'll do when the spontaneous hugs and kisses stop; when he won't want to nuzzle my nose with his in the middle of the restaurant. Hell, I don't know what I'm going to do without them for FOUR WHOLE DAYS when I go back to Seattle. While I'm looking forward to the trip, I can't even begin to think about how much I'm going to miss him. I know he'll be in good hands with my husband and his grandparents, but they won't be my hands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2983460625603006918?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2983460625603006918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2983460625603006918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2983460625603006918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2983460625603006918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/just-him-and-i.html' title='Just Him and I'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-4936574182867530724</id><published>2007-10-24T16:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T17:01:20.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fantasies</title><content type='html'>As we anxiously count down the days until we move into our new house, I keep picturing us happily settled there with all of our things. Yes, I'm excited when I think about the double headed shower and the leg-shaving bench I've always wanted. I can't wait to dive into my very own swimming pool and sip wine in the hot tub with my husband. I see myself sitting in the front porch swing watching PB ride around the sidewalk with his new friends. Ahhh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my real fantasies lie in the kitchen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the boxes finally come, it's there I will start unpacking first. I will once again be reunited with my knives, measuring cups and sifter; my whisks, zesters and mixing bowls. Muffin trays, cooling racks, roasters and springform pans--I will find them each a space. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I can't stay away from the food sites, cookbooks and the Food Network. I'm collecting new recipes like mad, breathlessly browsing kitchen stores and living in anticipation of the wonderful smells I will fill the new house with. I'm already planning a Christmas menu, thinking of the baked goods I'll greet overnight guests with and considering who our first dinner event should include. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will probably be months before the other rooms get unpacked, and we'll live among boxes for awhile. But at least we'll eat well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bon Appetit! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Thanks for all of the well wishes. I'm feeling much better today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4936574182867530724?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4936574182867530724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4936574182867530724' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4936574182867530724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4936574182867530724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/fantasies.html' title='Fantasies'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-585999023213528186</id><published>2007-10-23T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T12:49:59.201-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick</title><content type='html'>Ugh. I woke up this morning dizzy--like not being able to walk a straight line dizzy--and nauseous. I threw up for the first time in years. I've slept most of the day, and still have a dull headache and my stomach is queasy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of me thinks it's a migraine again, but it could also be a stomach flu that's been going around. I haven't felt that great for the past couple of days. On Sunday I had a horrible run where I just didn't feel good at all and walked most of it. Then yesterday I woke up feeling yucky, but thought sweating it out at the gym would work. Still felt off most of the day, but nothing too bad. Then today, wham! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate getting sick! And I missed pumpkin patch day today at PBs school, which made me so, so sad. My husband was able to go, but still... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the housing front, we have two couples circling our house--one quite seriously who intends to decide by week's end. I hope, hope, pray, pray this is it. I hesitate even putting it out there for fear of jinxing it, but figured the prayers and well wishes you all can (please!) send our way will outweigh that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of prayers, I can't stop thinking about all those poor families in San Diego and what they must be going through. And how, if things had just gone a little differently, we would be there now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same week my husband accepted his job here in Orlando, he was offered another one at Callaway Golf in the San Diego area. We had a realtor working with us and everything. It was a REALLY hard decision to make, but eventually being close to his family won out. I can't only imagine what we would be doing right now if we had chosen differently.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-585999023213528186?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/585999023213528186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=585999023213528186' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/585999023213528186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/585999023213528186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/sick.html' title='Sick'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-5857648831908857110</id><published>2007-10-21T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T19:29:44.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long Time No See</title><content type='html'>Today we had lunch with my cousin who lives in the Orlando area. I had not seen her since I don't know when--high school, maybe longer. Ever since we arrived in Orlando four months ago, my mother and grandmother have repeatedly asked me if I have yet been in contact with her. Finally I can say yes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's six years younger than I am, and one of nine children--yes, nine. She has two older sisters my age and two older brothers before her who I knew much better than her. They lived in Kansas, but we frequently made the trek from Nebraska for huge family gatherings with my mother's five siblings and their hordes of children (we were the smallest family with just four children). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure we thought she was a baby at that time and probably excluded her and the other little ones. But still she and I remembered many of the same fun things we did at our grandparents' farm like making the best haunted houses in the basement where we would drop sheets or fake bugs down the laundry shoot onto someone's head as the walked by. We played court, rode four wheelers and walked a mile into town by ourselves to buy penny candies and Cokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her family lived on a dairy farm in the same small town (population 200 in a good year) as my grandparents and the rest of my mom's family. I grew up in the city. I used to love going to the farm and observing their life that was so different from mine. I always brought the new fads, the clothing trends and music they hadn't yet made the way down thier dirt roads. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while I'm sure I felt and acted somewhat superior, I was also fascinated by parts of their lives. I so coveted their visits from the Schwan's man and couldn't believe how deprived I was without the treats and frozen foods that filled their freezer. I collected eggs from the chickens with my cousins, and we got to throw the cracked ones at the pigs. I know I cracked many on purpose. The pigs didn't care, especially as we yelled "Suey, Suey." I couldn't believe how the pigs would come running for that special word. And I couldn't believe how young they got to start driving cars--I swear they were like 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we visited, my family stayed at my grandparents' farm, but each time I'd try to do a sleepover with my cousins. We had a great time eating Schwan's treats, playing games, telling stories and making crank calls. I remember having so much fun... until it was time to go to bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be well after midnight, and I'd be laying there in my sleeping bag. Then I'd go find my aunt or uncle, and we'd call my parents because someone had to come get me. I was scared--I don't know of what--but I knew I wouldn't be able to make it through the night. So my aunt and I would sit at the kitchen table until someone drove the 20 minutes there to get me. Then we'd drive the 20 miles back to my grandparents' farm where I fell asleep safely with my family nearby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I thought I'd grown up enough since the last to do it; that surely I wouldn't be scared this time. But each time I was. And my parents always let me go again and again and again. They never got mad; they just came and got me and let me keep trying. Thinking back, that's pretty cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it wasn't just my cousins' house where I got scared. It was all slumber parties and sleepovers. I must have had some major separation anxiety. I don't remember how old I was when I first did make it over night--I think I was close to 10 or 11, much too old! I remember waking up in my friend's bed--she lived right across the street, and I could see my house from her bedroom window--we were both so excited and so proud of me. I had finally done it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, I quickly grew out of my fear of leaving home and longed for anything that would take me away from my boring Midwestern existence. And eventually I found things that did. I've lived in D.C., Boston, Austin, Seattle and now Orlando. I've had a diverse career and met an amazing array of people. Thinking back to how scared I was to leave my house and my family seems so out of nature for me now, but maybe how I worked through it, and how my family helped me, is what made me feel secure doing so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started out thinking I was going to write this post about how strange it is that my cousin and I--and my other 35 cousins for that matter--could not be close, could go for years without talking or know what each other are doing; could live in the same city for four months without getting in touch. Because I can't imagine my brothers or sister having a child, and PB not being immersed in their lives forever. But I also know things change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I'm glad to have made a reconnection and to have briefly relived some of the fond memories I have of visiting the farm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5857648831908857110?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5857648831908857110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5857648831908857110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5857648831908857110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5857648831908857110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/long-time-no-see.html' title='Long Time No See'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-8052212688608737568</id><published>2007-10-20T18:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T18:45:22.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vent</title><content type='html'>Why would anyone say this to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My husband saw someone walking out and thought it was you. I said, 'oh no, that's not Closetmom, she would have had to have changed a whole lot in a couple weeks to look like that.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, not only did she say it to me, she then had to repeat it to my husband and relate her hilarious story to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was so obviously begging for us to say, "what did she look like?" And you know what? there's no good answer. Neither of took the bait, thankfully, because I don't really want to know. Either this phantom me was uglier, fatter, more hideous looking than I, which then leaves me with the fact that her husband thinks I could look like that. OR the person was so much more beautiful, skinny, amazing than I that she thought it crazy he could believe I looked like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get the whole mistaken identity thing. I'm AWFUL with recognizing people I've met a zillion times and then on countless occassions swear I know someone I've never met. But what I don't get is WHY you would need to say this. Like I said, there's no good answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should not get so upset by things like this, but I do. I'm attending a parenting series and they say if your happiness is based on what other people say and do, you'll never be happy or you'll spend your life trying to change things that can't be changed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And really, I know this person doesn't really mean any harm; and most of the time she is an amazing person in my life. But still...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8052212688608737568?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8052212688608737568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8052212688608737568' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8052212688608737568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8052212688608737568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/vent.html' title='Vent'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-936726709361602761</id><published>2007-10-18T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T11:57:35.892-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mecca</title><content type='html'>PB had family chapel this morning, so since I was all showered and made up, I decided to do some shopping. I even put my hair on hot rollers, which made it huge (Dallas hair as my husband called it), but quite cute I thought. It lasted, oh about 5 seconds after I stepped out the front door. Seriously, I could hear the wind as it deflated. I should have known the humidity would do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was headed to the Milenia Mall, but decided to make a quick detour to the new Neiman Marcus outlet first. It was A-freaking-mazing. Seriously, there was racks of Tory Burch; rounders of Velvet. There was Vince, Marc Jacobs and Marni. Rows of Nicole Miller dresses; Prada; Gucci; even Channel. And don't even get me started on the handbags--there were Chloe bags!--and the shoes--Mui Mui clogs and Faragamo flats. Oh and sunglasses, don't forget those--Chritian Dior, Gucci, Prada. ALLELUIA! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the best part? It was not a mess like many outlets that give me a headache. It was well laid out, not crowded and organized by designer. And it wasn't last year's stuff either. I'd seen the same lines in stores this past summer. I tried on a whole room of things, and given a different budget, would have purchased mucho bueno items. But I'm trying to be good and there was nothing that I HAD to have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, my BFF is opening up a clothing store here in just a few weeks, and I'm waiting to do my splurging there. Can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-936726709361602761?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/936726709361602761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=936726709361602761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/936726709361602761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/936726709361602761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/mecca.html' title='Mecca'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-5862963289095507713</id><published>2007-10-16T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T19:43:26.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Medical Mishaps</title><content type='html'>Finally, last night I was able to fast for the allotted amount of time to get my blood drawn this morning. I can't tell you hard it has been for me not to eat (or drink!) anything after dinner. So while I've had good intentions, it's been more than two weeks since I went to the internist who wrote out the order for all the tests I'm going to have done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But last night I did it. I ate a big dinner, and that was it. I know the fact that I couldn't have anything just made me hungrier, but I had nary a nibble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this morning, I dropped PB off at school then headed to the lab, as ready as I ever could be to have someone suck the blood out of me. I find a parking space right away, which I thought was a good sign. The I walk in and feel, smell, see that this might not be where I want to be long. I swear everyone there was there for a drug test or for something you need when you're 90-plus years old. No offense to either population, but when I found out the wait was more than an hour, I bolted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to find another branch of the lab, in a nicer suburb to no avail. So after some fruitless driving around, I was so freaking hungry I just decided to go eat breakfast. So a fast for nothing. Oh well, maybe I lost .01 pounds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then this afternoon PB and I were scheduled to go back for his flu shot, which if you remember we didn't get last week because of the fluid in his ear. Well, that fluid is now green and infected. We not only didn't get the flu shot (how many negatives in that sentence?), but also had to miss swimming lessons per the doctor's advice. So off to the pharmacy we went for yet another round of antibiotics. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while I hate the antibiotics on so many levels--primarily because of the threat of him growing resistant to them--the other pressing issue is that THEY MAKE HIM CRAZY!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, you've never seen bad behavior from him like when he's on antibiotics. It's taken me awhile to make the connection, even though my mother has repeatedly reminded me that all of my brothers and sister and I were the same. But it's true, oh so true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the games begin...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5862963289095507713?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5862963289095507713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5862963289095507713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5862963289095507713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5862963289095507713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/medical-mishaps.html' title='Medical Mishaps'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-3465231846288816473</id><published>2007-10-16T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T10:32:48.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Checkin' In</title><content type='html'>Not much going on that's of note around here. We had a nice, relaxing weekend. Sunday we drove to Tampa to see my husband's aunt and grandmother. I find his aunt delightful. She has a practice where she prescribes flower essences, touch therapy and other natural remedies for a variety of ailments and conditions in animals and humans. Her house is filled with fountains, magic stones and a very peaceful feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the flower remedies she uses are pretty interesting to me. And while I wouldn't entrust my entire health to natural medicine and remedies like this, I do believe they can play a very important role. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few hours around PB and his incessant energy she asked if we'd like to try to something to help him calm down a bit. I figured why not, so she bottled up some essence of Chamomile. I haven't given him any yet, but I'm going to give it a try. It's not an herb or anything, but rather the essence of the flower that's been trapped. I can put it in his drink (it has no taste) or rub it in the bottoms of feet or put in his bathwather. If you're interested, you can read more here www.bachcentre.com. Anyway, I'll let you know how it goes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also visited the nursing facility in which his grandmother lives. That's always a hard place for me to go, but so important. In fact, I was thinking it would be good volunteer work if PB and I went once and awhile to a local home to visit people who may not have family near. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took Sunday off from running, but did five miles yesterday and about three today. I've noticed more and more that I clench my toes when I run, which then makes them tingle/almost like they've fallen asleep. I have to make a concerted effort to focus on not clenching them. This has been a recurrent problem for me, I think because I spent so many years in dance and gymnastics, where I was always focused on pointing my toes. Not sure, that's a theory anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been looking around for my next race, I'm thinking a 10K would be perfect. But not sure which one. My choices are limited by a slew of visitors coming, my trip back to Seattle, the move, etc. I'll figure one out soon though. It's such a good motivator for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's about it. I'm off to go pick PB up from school, and we have swimming lessons this afternoon. I'm going to try to make dinner between the two, as swimming days are always really rushed. I'm thinking soup, because you know the cooler weather is really calling for it--ha! it's 85 out :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-3465231846288816473?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3465231846288816473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=3465231846288816473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3465231846288816473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3465231846288816473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/checkin-in.html' title='Checkin&apos; In'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-4371969935812728132</id><published>2007-10-13T18:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-13T19:26:27.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Race</title><content type='html'>So, I wasn't set up very well for the race today. While I went to bed early, we don't have an alarm clock and instead use my cell phone. Well, said cell phone proceeded to ring throughout the night--at least three times(telemarketers who think we're still on West Coast time, as I still have my Seattle number)--waking us with each ring. Soooo frustrating and exhausting. I finally ended up just turning it off, which made me paranoid that I would miss my race, so I really didn't sleep much at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got out of bed around 6:15 a.m. and just stayed up until I needed to leave around 7. I had some coffee and an egg and turkey sausage for breakfast, then about 6:45 a.m. woke my husband up and told him to listen in case I screamed on the way to my car in the dark apartment parking lot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to my car and the race just fine, but then started panicking as I looked at around at the other racers who seemed to all be in super fit shape. I was having some major body envy and was desperately searching for anyone who looked older or more out of shape than me. I swear there weren't many. I seriously started to wonder if there was a possibility I could come in last. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seemed to take forever until the actual race started, and I was ready to curl up on a bench and go to sleep. I was soo tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally people started pushing to the starting line. I wasn't in the back, probably close to the middle, but from the time the horn sounded, it took at least 30 seconds or more before I was actually moving more than a walk. But once I did start, it was a beautiful run. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started out around a lake and proceeded through some beautiful Maitland neighborhoods with gorgeous homes. Lots of neighbors were out to cheer us on. I passed lots of people; and I got passed by others. At the 1-mile mark they shouted out 10:59 as I passed, and I was a little disappointed. I held back to some extent during mile 2 because I didn't want to run out of energy. I can't remember my time at mile 2, but it was better than mile 1 as far as my average time. The last mile felt longer than the first two, but really throughout the whole thing, I felt great. No cramping, and I never even felt the urge to walk. I'd put my sights on someone in the distance and then see if I could manage to pass them. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn't. The weather was unremarkably perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and PB were waiting for me around 2.5 miles and that was fun. PB looked really perplexed as to what I was doing, but smiled and waved. On the home stretch I tried to push it a little, but not full out. As we approached the finish line I made it through to my own space, because I wanted the announcer to say my name as I came across the line. Then out of the blue some little 10 or 11-year-old boy sprinted full on and passed me, so they were talking about him instead. Good for him, but still I was slightly bummed my momentary spotlight was stolen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't find the clock (it wasn't a recorded race, they told us to just look at the clock when we crosesd the finish line) but after a few seconds I found it and it read.........................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31:35&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So not great. But pretty good, and if you subtract the 30 seconds or so that it took me to actually start the race (can I do that?), I think I'm pretty close to my goal of 10-minute miles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of any time or accolades, however, is the fact that I did it, and I felt great doing so. It was soo much fun, and I've totally been bitten by the race bug once again. I can't wait to do another one!!! a longer one!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The children's race followed. PB was so cute in his t-shirt that was way too big with his race number pinned on. There were only like six kids in his division, all of whom were bigger. And he, actually, did come in last. But he did it, and he got his ribbon. He had fun, and I was proud of him. However, I'm not sure he's been bitten by the race bug like I have. I asked him if he was ready to sign up for another race, and he said, "no, today was quite enough." Of course he also refuses to take his ribbon off...so we'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4371969935812728132?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4371969935812728132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4371969935812728132' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4371969935812728132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4371969935812728132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/race.html' title='Race'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-7941583043260782307</id><published>2007-10-12T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T11:16:46.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Done Deal</title><content type='html'>The inspection was this morning, and all went well. A few minor things were found, but they're fixing them all. So November 15 we move in!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited! It feels like the right fit, and I like it more everytime I see it. So while we've hemmed and hawed a lot, that's just what I need to do sometimes...most times. Plus, my husband met the next door neighbors. Apparently they have a children ages 3, 5, and 7, and the wife "looks like someone I'd be friends with." Yay! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a little bummed because PB and I were only at the house about 15 minutes before I ran to take him to get a flu shot. It should have been a 15-minute deal, commute time and all. But of course, it turned into an hour-plus event. They lost his chart, so he was overlooked, blah, blah. Then he didn't even get the shot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm paranoid about vaccinations and only like him to get them when he's 100 percent healthy. He has a cough, but with preschool, I'm not sure he's ever not going to have one. So I took him in and asked them to examine him quickly to see if he had anything else going on. She found some fluid in his right ear (he's very prone to ear infections), which could mean the end or beginning of an infection. But regardless, I don't want him having a vaccination with any kind of inspection, so he got off easy today. I still had to buy him the cookie I had promised though, because I figured really, the dread leading up to getting a shot, is often worse than the actual shot. We'll go back again next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so I never got back to the house like I wanted to. I wanted to open all the drawers and closets and imagine myself living there, thinking about where I would put things etc. But the inspection was over, and everyone had left. Oh well, soon enough I'll be doing it for real. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is my 5K race. I'm not sure how it's going to go as I haven't run since Tuesday. The migraine kept me out the past two days, and today I feel like I should rest up. I'm sure I'll be fine though, it's only 3.2 miles. Let's hope that's how I feel tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-7941583043260782307?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7941583043260782307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=7941583043260782307' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7941583043260782307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7941583043260782307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/done-deal.html' title='Done Deal'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-6997841641052147820</id><published>2007-10-10T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T18:38:24.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hypochondriac? Maybe</title><content type='html'>What would you do if all of a sudden you saw colorful lights in the shape of hexagons dancing around in front of your face, and you weren't taking any hallucinogenic drugs? What if they didn't go away for like 10 minuets, and you've never experienced anything like it before?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after checking online for symptoms of stroke, heart attack and a number of other big ones, I decided I did not need to call 911. Instead,I called a local eye doctor and begged them to see me for an emergency appointment, then called my husband and told him he needed to come home from work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time he got home, the lights had disappeared, and a huge headache was building behind my right eye. I was really nervous about what the doctor would find--a torn retina? Some horrible eye disease? an aneurysm?--my mind seriously goes wild in these situations, which I know does not help the situation. Then I stress about the stress and the damage it's doing to my body. I know, I know. Did you read the title of this post? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after a slew of exams, drops and me reading letters, the doctor said I have extremely healthy eyes, 20/20 vision, not even the need for some reading glasses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why the lights? Probably a migraine, she decided. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never in my life had a migraine. She asked if I was under stress. I just laughed. So I guess that's what it was/still kind of is. There is still a dull ache in my head, which I'm sure would dissipate greatly if I put down the laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel stupid for panicking over this, but it really was scary. While I worry a lot about my health, I rarely actually go to a doctor except for a checkup each year. I've got to feel it's pretty serious for me to actually make the call. And geez if a spontaneous light show before my eyes doesn't seem serious, I don't know what does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of my life I've been blessedly healthy and felt very in tune with my body. I trusted it. My terrifying bout with preeclampsia, however, changed that. I felt betrayed; and I haven't fully trusted my body ever sense. I'm not sure when or if I ever will. Hopefully, over time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, that was my day today. My poor husband is still at work, because I pulled him away from his project and he had to go back and finish up. I feel bad for the false alarm, but also glad to have had a thorough eye exam, which I've never had in my entire life--weird, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a bright spot in the day, however. During my appointment, which lasted about 1.5 hours, PB and my husband played in the waiting room. As we were leaving, one of the receptionists, said, "Your son is so well behaved." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't get that one very often (um, actually not sure I've ever gotten that), so it made my day, and I need to immortalize it here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6997841641052147820?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6997841641052147820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6997841641052147820' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6997841641052147820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6997841641052147820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/hypochondriac-maybe.html' title='Hypochondriac? Maybe'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2311423634067990100</id><published>2007-10-09T17:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T17:48:28.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation at the Gym</title><content type='html'>PB takes swimming lessons at my gym with his friend C two afternoons a week. Each day, it's an exhausting task trying to get them not to storm through the place, run other people over, and generally create havoc. The long, long hallways are just so inviting for racing, jumping, crawling on the ground like spiders. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we try--and I mean really try--not like those parents who give half-hearted attempts at control. And sometimes we're successful. Sometimes, not so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today on the way in was one of those days. They ran ahead of us, and unfortunately, in front of a British woman. They got stopped at the gate, because you can't go in without scanning your hand or a badge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow those taking badges thought the two terrors were with the Brit. She made it quite clear they were not. I tried to joke about it, and said, "I'm sure she's thanking God, they're not hers," ha, ha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"THEY have nothing to do with me," was her response as she trotted off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rude, yes? But then again, the manners of the very dynamic duo certainly weren't on point either. So I guess it's a draw. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And really, before I had children, I'm sure--no, I know!--I was one of those smug singles who knew I would never in a million years allow a child of mine to act like...well, mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2311423634067990100?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2311423634067990100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2311423634067990100' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2311423634067990100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2311423634067990100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/conversation-at-gym.html' title='Conversation at the Gym'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-562924845202073332</id><published>2007-10-08T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T20:03:34.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Energy</title><content type='html'>PB has always had abundant energy. If I had a nickel for every time someone said, "oh, he's really busy," I wouldn't be worried about selling my house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I describe his energy to people, they say "oh yea, boys.." Well, there's boy energy, and then there's PB energy. People claim they have wild or busy children, but then when I'm around them, not so much--at least compared to what I'm used to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It (or my perception of it) has ebbed and flowed throughout his development. I remember a Kindermusik class when he was about 10 months old, not yet walking. All the other children pretty much sat with their mothers or in their general vicinity. PB on the other hand, was cruising all around the room, digging in diaper bags and dumping out trashcans. Over and I over he was the "busy one". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other times I've thought he was mellowing out a bit, and I don't feel like he's all that different from a normal, crazy boy. It's not that he's disobedient (well, no more so than others), it's just that he seems to need to be in constant motion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His preschool teacher has brought this up to me several times. Again today. She said if he's not really interested in something he just won't sit still. Handwriting for instance--he just doesn't want to do it, so he's up all around the classroom, doing somersaults, this that, the other thing. She mentioned getting him evaluated, but didn't say for what. I'm really not ready to jump on the whole ADHD bandwagon. And that's not what she was suggesting...I don't think. But I'm sure it has crossed her mind. It has definitely crossed mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said he needs to be able to concentrate on a task for eight minutes. Now, if you give him a stack of books or magazines, he'll read literally for an hour or more. He'll make up games with toys or any inanimate object and play for long periods of time by himself. So I'm thinking it's more a matter of will or being stimulated. I'm not sure, but it's definitely something we need to be figuring out sooner than later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided to start by trying to work with him at home. I came up with "PB's Body Still Calendar," which is now posted on our refrigerator. The plan is to each day set the timer for 10 minutes and sit at the table and concentrate on some project--a fun project. After five smiley faces, he gets to go to Timmy's Toy Chest, a store he loves, and pick out a small toy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started today, and it went great. We got out the scissors (something he has a hard time with) and cut some paper, tore some strips (something his teacher suggested) and he even wrote his name for me! I was shocked that he could do that. When he started school, not even six weeks ago, he could only write like 2 or 3 letters. Now he wrote his whole name--it was all overlapping and in huge letters, and no one but me would probably know what it said. BUT the fact is he wrote the letters pretty well, so he must be sitting still long enough to learn something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course then there's the fact that he's my son. I'm happiest when I'm going full speed ahead, multitasking and stressing over my overflowing plate.I always have been. Whenever I discuss my concern about PB's energy with my mother she always asks, "So when was the last time you were able to sit still?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we'll see what happens. He's a really sweet, bright little boy, and if we can channel this energy into good places, he'll do great. If we don't, then we're in trouble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-562924845202073332?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/562924845202073332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=562924845202073332' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/562924845202073332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/562924845202073332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/energy.html' title='Energy'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-7708246874801366156</id><published>2007-10-06T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T20:08:38.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop the Presses</title><content type='html'>I'm so sick of reading articles like &lt;a href="http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/realestate/2003929200_homesales06.html"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;. I'm not quick to blame "the media" as most of the U.S. is, but in this case, it's just pissing me off. Stop printing articles like this and maybe someone will buy my house! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We signed the contract today for our new house here in Florida, and while I'm really excited about it, it's also anticlimactic. Because really until our house sells there's no call for celebration. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, my incessant rant, today was a good day. We drove to St. Augustine, Florida, (the oldest city in the United States) and I was pleasantly surprised by what a cute, quaint place it was. Lots to do and see, right on the water. We just had lunch and browsed shops, etc., but there was so much we didn't have time for. I want to go back and do more and tour the museums and historic sites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Came home and ran my 5 mile loop. It was an okay run. I didn't start out until close to 7 p.m. so it was quite dark on my return. I wasn't too worried because it's a pretty well traveled road I run on, but still I get a little nervous at who knows what hiding in the bushes ready to grab me. Maybe it made me run faster! I took a couple of walk breaks, which always make me feel less than good, and I just never got into my really good place. Regardless, I'm glad I got it done, as I often blow off exercise on the weekends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-7708246874801366156?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7708246874801366156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=7708246874801366156' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7708246874801366156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/7708246874801366156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/stop-presses.html' title='Stop the Presses'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-4370862003738788194</id><published>2007-10-05T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T19:56:23.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yummm</title><content type='html'>Such a good dinner tonight. Edamame with green tea salt for an appetizer, followed by pork tenderloin with spinach and polenta. All good at this restaurant that does every dish under 450 calories, with good atmosphere to boot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while it was all good and healthy, the problem was the dessert, which I had TWO of. They come in little shot glasses and are about $2 each, which makes ordering many easy. The first I chose was a chocolate peanut butter mouse cake thing that was good. But the second was insanely good--pecan pie with a vanilla bean mousse. It was incredible, and I'll be thinking about it for days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that plus two great glasses of wine and an excellent cappuccino. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm full!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4370862003738788194?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4370862003738788194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4370862003738788194' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4370862003738788194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4370862003738788194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/yummm.html' title='yummm'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-284477600541935099</id><published>2007-10-05T12:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-05T19:47:28.942-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired</title><content type='html'>I'm tired today. PB woke up crying in the middle of the night. I went in and asked him what was wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm really, really sad," he said, completely asleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why are you sad honey?" I asked, waiting for him to say because he misses his Seattle house or a particular friend or toy from back home--which he has been doing a lot lately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, he said, "Because I really want to go to the park." And that was it. &lt;br /&gt;Instead of going back to sharing a small bed with my big husband, I opted to crawl into bed with PB where I could claim more space. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He woke me up various other times through the night. Once, he just said, "Mommy I love you," which was the sweetest thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love sleeping with him despite all the awakenings, and I have done so quite frequently since we moved here. I know the days he's going to like me to are few and far between. So while I'm probably setting a bad precedent when I do, I really don't care. He'll kick me out soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he woke up so much because he's getting sick with a stuffy nose and yucky cough. It seems everyone around here has something, including my husband. I guess 'tis the season. So far, besides my tiredness, I'm okay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No school today and we didn't really make plans, so PB and I headed to a local mall, ran a few errands, played at the bookstore, etc. Tonight I'm going out with a new friend for dinner and a few drinks, which I'm looking forward to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, not much on the agenda for the weekend. I'd like to get in at least one good run. I ran yesterday and the day before, but doubt I'll get anything in today. Yesterday's run was on the treadmill, which always makes me realize just how slow I am. I think my goal for next weekend's race will very non-lofty (can't think of a good word for the opposite of lofty). 10 minute miles and I'll be happy. There's also a children's race after the main one, which I'm going to have PB do. They group them by age with distances between 100-400 yards, and everyone gets a ribbon or medal. Should be fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-284477600541935099?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/284477600541935099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=284477600541935099' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/284477600541935099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/284477600541935099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/tired.html' title='Tired'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-2088881254543616078</id><published>2007-10-03T18:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-03T18:46:33.471-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back To Busy</title><content type='html'>I'm used to be being busy. I always have been, and mostly, I like it that way. But since moving to Florida, not working and having PB in school the majority of most days, busy I'm not. In fact, I'm more relaxed than I can remember being since...I can't even remember when. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother keeps asking me if I'm bored yet, and really, with the exception of a few days, I really haven't been. True, I'm not always making the best use of my time--I spend way too much online, pretend shopping and watching reality television--but that's okay. I've enjoyed it, because I knew sooner or later it would come to an end. At some point, I knew I would get bored (or sick of not having extra income), and I'd start looking for freelance work or something productive to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I didn't have to go looking, some work recently came looking for me. It's not a huge project, and it's not final yet. But it sounds interesting, and since we're bleeding money, I really shouldn't turn it down. In a lot of ways I'm actually looking forward to it and hoping it works out. But I'm also starting to mourn the loss of my lazy days as other activities start accumulating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cookbook committee met this morning, and while it's going to be really fun, it will also take a significant amount of time. I volunteered to be the photo coordinator at PB's school all day next Tuesday; I'm attending a parenting seminar on Wednesday. I have a zillion tours of local schools coming up(local public school is tomorrow) and more research to do. Then there's swimming lessons, tennis lessons and more playdates. My calendar has quickly filled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tonight we found out that our rent/buy deal on House #1 is probably (hope, hope, hope) going to work out. So I'll have a move to coordinate, a trip back to Seattle, and finally a house to clean and decorate! Actually, decorating will have to wait until we sell our Seattle house and stop the money bleed. But still. I will have my things!!! (hope, hope, hope). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's a lot to look forward to, and life here is falling nicely into place. I just want to make sure that I keep up with my running in the midst of it all, because it keeps my grounded and is one of the very productive things I've done with my time. Too often in the past when life got chaotic, it's been exercise that I've put on the shelf. I really don't want to let that happen this time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I signed up for a 5K race for next weekend. &lt;a href="http://www.trackshack.com/events/events/stillwell/kathystilwell.php"&gt;It&lt;/a&gt; will be my first race in about seven years, and I'm really looking forward it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2088881254543616078?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2088881254543616078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2088881254543616078' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2088881254543616078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2088881254543616078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/back-to-busy.html' title='Back To Busy'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-6455026113754214625</id><published>2007-10-02T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T09:14:17.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Miss</title><content type='html'>I'm really trying to be more positive about our housing situation. Because really, we are all healthy, and I have the most amazing son and husband anyone could ask for. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I still really miss a lot of things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, of course, miss the big things--our friends(really miss them!), the mountains of the Pacific Northwest, driving over the 520 bridge into Seattle, the smell of the air there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I also mourn the little things--trivial things in the scheme of things, but MY things nonetheless (reminder: we moved here with TWO suitcases each, as we thought it would be only a matter of days before our house sold and we got our things!!!!) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the list of my "things" I miss most while I'm holed up here in a "furnished" apartment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nightstand beside my bed. And the glass of water that usually sits there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having an alarm clock in our bedroom. (I know we could go buy a cheap one, but like so many things, it feels like giving into the idea that we're really going to be here awhile...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The luxury of walking right into my house with groceries and a 4-year-old rather than lugging them both up two flights of stairs nearly every day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dirt beneath my house--as opposed to the floor that also serves as the ceiling to the people below. Said people tend to pound on the ceiling when PB runs, walks, sneezes, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A REAL street address, which means not having to give an apartment number after your address and having people wonder WHY you are living in an apartment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A playroom for PB. (and therefore a relatively clutter-free rest of the living space.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the books PB asks for that I have to tell him are "still at our Washington House" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the very meaningful goodbye gifts some friends gave us that I left in Washington because I thought we would have them much, much sooner than this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My address book. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Cookbooks--this is a HUGE one for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My spices. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bunch of CDs I desperately long to hear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Games PB and I used to play. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My serving pieces, even though we're not doing any entertaining in this apartment. I still like to have them around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dishes that don't spark in the microwave (yes, those that were furnished in the apartment do). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having more than four plates!!! and four forks, four spoons, four knifes, etc. Just imagine how often we run the dishwasher!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A garage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The filled flower boxes outside my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming home and checking voice mail messages (I now only have a cell phone, and it's a little anticlimactic coming home without the possibility of messages on our home phone.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being able to invite people to our home for dinner, playdates, anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Purple chopped salads from Purple Wine Bar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pillow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bed, my sheets, my whole sleeping experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My garlic press.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My robe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, of course, Trader Joe's!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-6455026113754214625?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6455026113754214625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=6455026113754214625' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6455026113754214625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/6455026113754214625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/things-i-miss.html' title='Things I Miss'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-8579464995813183583</id><published>2007-10-01T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T13:04:59.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain Run</title><content type='html'>Today I had my best run yet! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was worried that my knee could hurt after this weekend's accident, but it really didn't at all. I did lose one of my 10-plus bandages along the way, but besides that my knees felt just fine. My neck and shoulders are still really sore, but I think the run might have helped them loosen a little. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the temperature was great--low 80s--and what a difference that makes! I ran the whole first half of my 5-mile loop without a single walk break. Then I stopped for water, walked a few blocks and it started to sprinkle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the skies opened up and it POURED. The only thing to do was to keep running home. I was really nervous about my phone getting wet and shorting out, so I was running faster than usual. The rain felt great. I ran all the way home without a break and felt great doing it. Since we moved here, it's definitely been my strongest run. Who knew that running in the rain could be so great? I should have run more while I was in Seattle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I know some of you who know me will find it hard to believe that twice this month I'm going to plug Target clothing. BUT I bought some running shorts there that I LOVE, and I went again this weekend and they were on SALE so I bought another pair--for like $10! Seriously, they're the best. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the brand is Champion, they come in a variety of colors and have a great cloth lining. But the reason I bought them and the reason I love them is the POCKETS--one on each side. The pockets zip, and the zippers lock tightly when you flip them down so I don't worry about my stuff falling out. I can carry my phone, some money, my key, etc. with me and not have to hold anything in my hands. They rock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8579464995813183583?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8579464995813183583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8579464995813183583' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8579464995813183583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8579464995813183583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/10/rain-run.html' title='Rain Run'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-5872392226631126993</id><published>2007-09-30T16:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T17:13:39.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Injured!</title><content type='html'>So my first Florida injury that resulted in a trip to the urgent care center was not at the hands of a wild animal, as I would have predicted. Rather, it was a golf cart that did me in! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, we went down to see my husband's parents. They live in a huge, beautiful retirement community. It is, I believe, advertised as a golf cart community. Most everyone owns them and you can drive them all over the place--the grocery stores, to neighbor's houses, to the softball games my father in plays nearly every day of the week, and of course to the golf course. They're quite fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are also a number of country clubs within the community, and they all have GREAT happy hours. So yesterday, as we often do, my husband and I decided to leave PB behind with the in laws and head out for a drink in the golf cart. At the last minute he decided to take a detour and was going too fast around a corner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went flying out of the golf cart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was lots of blood, lots of pain. It was one of those moments of complete shock as I lay there on the grass (thankfully) not wanting to open my eyes, not wanting to find out how bad it really was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm fine, but sore and bruised and cut. Two fingers on my left hand got pretty bad slices--i think from the very coarse grass. My right knee hit the curb and has lots of scrapes and bruises. It's sore, but did NOT swell overnight like I expected it to. In fact, besides the stinging from the scrapes, it doesn't feel bad. I walked all over Sea World today just fine. I have a host of other bruises and scrapes all over; and my shoulders and neck are extremely sore--probably more from the tension than anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part of it all is how incredibly badly my poor, sweet husband felt. He still feels so bad and is beating himself up way more than I was beaten up. It was totally an accident, and of course, I'm not mad at all. But still he feels bad, which makes me feel bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It REALLY freaks me out to get hurt like this. It makes me think about how quickly your life can turn upside down. What if I'd gone head first into the cement? What if PB had been with us? etc., etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how's it's going to affect my workouts this week. I may try to see what I can do at the gym for a bit tomorrow. And perhaps a soak in the whirlpool would be good for me. We'll see. I'm really thankful I wasn't hurt worse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, it was a good weekend. More housing ups and downs with House #1, but nothing really of interest to report. No word at all on our house in Washington, of course. So. Sick. Of. That!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-5872392226631126993?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5872392226631126993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=5872392226631126993' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5872392226631126993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/5872392226631126993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/injured.html' title='Injured!'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2012031475855074360</id><published>2007-09-28T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T13:39:11.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nap At Last</title><content type='html'>For two weeks now, PB has not napped once. There has been not even a hint of one in 14 days. From the child who I thought would nap until high school, it was an abrupt end to an era. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until today--hooray! We had a fun playdate with a little boy from preschool. They played nicely, not quietly, because of course they're boys. But it wasn't nonstop sweaty-head filled action of many we enter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the two-week hiatus caught up with him. He looked so tired on the way home, but wouldn't close his eyes. When we got home, I asked him if he just wanted to go snuggle in his bed and take a little nap. He said yes, ran to his room, shut the door and almost two hours later now, he's still sleeping. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've used the time to do some research on cookbooks. Did I mention that I signed up to be chair of the fundraising cookbook committee at PB's preschool? I have a whole committee and everything. I think it will be fun and a good way to get to know more people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although when the head of the parenting committee e-mailed asking me if I need agendas or anything else run off for our first meeting next, I kind of panicked. Does she think we should have one? I may have Type A tendencies, but there are very few occasions I feel call for an agenda. My approach is much more tree-friendly and laid back when it comes to things like this. Don't get me wrong, I'm thorough and I'll stress with the best of them, but I don't need an agenda for something like this...I hope!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2012031475855074360?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2012031475855074360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2012031475855074360' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2012031475855074360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2012031475855074360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/nap-at-last.html' title='Nap At Last'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-3443159568411596952</id><published>2007-09-27T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T13:36:12.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Already</title><content type='html'>This week has flown by. It seems that almost every day I've had something going on, which means I got in fewer workouts that I would have liked. Hopefully this weekend I can get in some good runs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I had a doctor's appointment. It was the first time I've seen an internist. In the past I've just had an OB/Gyn, but since I'm getting up there in age, I decided to see someone a little more comprehensive. And comprehensive they were. They have ordered a whole slew of tests (all routine plus my thyroid check) that I have to go get done in the next couple of weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I'm going to get them done, as I know it's best if they catch things early, etc. But they stress me out soo bad as I'm total hypochondriac. So I just want to get it all over with, because the stress is probably way harder on my health than anything they'll find (hopefully). I just keep imagining a horrible phone call with test results that shatter my life. I know, I know. I can't do that, but I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the fact that since that appointment I just haven't felt well. My stomach isn't happy. Now, I also grabbed a salad from a local supermarket right after that appointment, which very well could have been the problem too. Or it could be my new vitamins, I'm not sure. All I know is that last night I felt so yucky that I went to bed at 9 p.m.--I didn't even stay up for the Real World, which is saying a lot since I'm without my tivo. Today is better, much better, but I still feel tired and not quite right. I've only googled a couple symptoms though and haven't diagnosed myself with anything too awful yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I went and toured a fancy schmancy school for PB. We're trying decide where he'll go next year and beyond. The one today has been highly recommended over and over to us, and its reputation is certainly warranted. It's an awesome school, a beautiful campus, filled with darling, little uniform-clad, seemingly polite children. They all stood up when we entered their classroom, and then proceeded to raise their hands to tell me what they "get" to do in that particular class. I loved it there, and I know PB would too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, it's really pricey, and if the local public school is good then I'm more inclined to at least try it. I think there's a lot of value in a diversity in education, whether it be ethnic, economic, etc. I'm not sure today's school provides that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband, on the other hand, is leaning strongly toward private. We'll see. I have a bunch of interviews set up more private schools; and I'm also going to tour the public school he would go to if we end up in House #1. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of House #1, we decided that's the one we want. So now the ball is in their court. If we can agree on a rent price and a few other terms then I very may well be heading back to Seattle in a few weeks to supervise the packing and moving. If all goes as planned/hoped, we would move in November 15. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That still seems like an eternity away, but it would definitely be something to look forward to. However, there are some buyers who have recently become interested in the same house, so that could put a damper on things. But if that happens,that's okay. I'll be totally fine with it and we'll move on out to the burbs and the other community. Basically, it's out of my hands now, and I'll leave it up to the powers that be to decide where we end up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there will be a long wait before anything is final, because that's just how my life goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-3443159568411596952?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3443159568411596952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=3443159568411596952' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3443159568411596952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3443159568411596952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/thursday-already.html' title='Thursday Already'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-8175647238235410989</id><published>2007-09-25T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T18:57:20.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More on Love Bugs</title><content type='html'>Just another weird fact* about love bugs--they were actually CREATED in a lab at the University of Florida!!! There seems to be debate as to which college is the culprit, but it doesn't really matter to me, it's the fact that they are MAN MADE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How eerie is that?! I guess some mad scientists created them as a way to combat mosquitoes. But the experiment didn't work and now these crazy bugs are flying around, and so are the mosquitoes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said before, the whole thing is weird, just weird!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*By fact I mean what people tell me. I could do a bunch of research about them, but it's more fun to hear people's theories and stories about them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8175647238235410989?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8175647238235410989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8175647238235410989' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8175647238235410989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8175647238235410989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/more-on-love-bugs.html' title='More on Love Bugs'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-3288389937540857784</id><published>2007-09-25T12:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T19:00:28.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Decisions</title><content type='html'>So, even though our house in Seattle hasn't sold, we have some options. Since the market here is even worse than there, people are willing to deal. One house that we have liked all along--the first one we ever looked at--is willing to let us rent the house until ours sells, however, long that may be. While we would be paying more rent than if we stay put in this apartment, at least we would be out of an apartment AND we could get all of our things moved here. While still financially draining, it would at least allow us to get settled in many regards. The rent they wanted at first was too much, but they recently came back with a reduced rate, which is only a few hundred dollars more than what we pay in this apartment. So it becomes a more attractive option. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT we need to make sure it's THE house and neighborhood we really want. I think it is, but I can't be 100 percent. Then again, I'm almost never a 100 percent kind of person. There are too many options in life, and I am not a good decision maker. I want it all :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;House #1 has lots of pros--great location, easy, easy commute for my husband; beautifully updated; nice guarded, gated community that appears to have lots of kids. What we don't know is how social the neighborhood is. A lot of the kids apparently go to private schools, even though the public one there is really good. But there's not that sense of community where all the kids ride the bus together, etc. if they're all going to different schools. Plus, it's just more of a status neighborhood, for whatever that's worth, and I think that it will be more of a mix of ages. So that's House #1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scenario #2 is another neighborhood. We ruled it out in the beginning because it is further out in the burbs, longer commute, etc. But it's right down the road from our current apartment, and I've been doing the driving for the past couple weeks. And really, it's so bad at all. I kind of like it out here. And I've been hearing lots of good things about this particular development- it's on a golf course and has tons of young kids, tons of neighborhood activities, neighbors are super friendly, super social. There's a clubhouse with a restaurant and a bar, bunco groups, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to look at several houses out there this morning, and they're nice--really big (probably too big for us), but none are as updated as House #1, which is a custom home. And while some are vacant and may be willing to let us do the rent deal, we haven't actually gotten to that place with any of them. So getting our stuff soon, may or may not be an option. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're torn. Our real estate agent, I'm sure, thinks we're schizophrenic, and you know what? We are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish I could see into the future and what are lives would be like in each of these locations. I think either will be good, but I want to know which one would be best. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other option is to just wait. Put it all on hold until our house sells. But who knows how long that could take? And I really need more than three pair of shoes! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never in a million years would have predicted the boat we're in now. I know there are lots of people out there in the same one, AND IT'S A REALLY CRAPPY BOAT!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-3288389937540857784?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3288389937540857784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=3288389937540857784' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3288389937540857784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3288389937540857784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/decisions.html' title='Decisions'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-1150879044402965381</id><published>2007-09-24T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T12:49:42.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Bugs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvgL65oNDRI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RHz9cL-7wNo/s1600-h/Lovebugs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113850483408964882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvgL65oNDRI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RHz9cL-7wNo/s200/Lovebugs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Have you ever heard of lovebugs? Real ones? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I certainly hadn't. But again Florida wildlife surprises me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lately, these bugs fly around everywhere; and they're ALWAYS in twos...apparently mating all the way. They don't separate and look like crazy two-headed pests.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've heard, though have yet to research, that they can leave behind some crazy liquid (which I dare not speculate as to what it is) that can wreck you car. So if you see this substance you have to go wash your car right away. Also, they can apparently gather in huge swarms. Great. (I'm picturing my encounter with a lovebug swarm as I'm sprinting away from a bear or alligator.) Oh and a bonus, I've heard that more lovebugs in a year means more hurricanes that year. I'm not even going to start thinking about those.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What blows me away is that I have lived my whole life, traveled and/or lived in most regions of the United States, and I have never, ever heard of these crazy things. Weird, just weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have I mentioned the huge pelican-like crane birds? No, well, they come up to at least my shoulder and they're everywhere. They block my jogging path eating some kind of berries from the ground. I'm quite frightened of them and run WAY around them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The lizards, I've mentioned before; they're quite cute. PB likes to chase and even pick them up. But this one scared the bejeezus out of me on Saturday morning. I saw something moving in my rear view mirror, and realized it was actually on it, rather than it. He then moved to the window right beside my face, which was a little unsettling. But to his credit, the little guy hung on for the entire 10 miles or so, his tail blowing in the breeze. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113853279432674610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvgOdpoNDTI/AAAAAAAAAA0/vBI6LXxy-p0/s200/IMG_7683.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear sometimes I feel like I've moved to another country rather than just another state. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-1150879044402965381?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/1150879044402965381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=1150879044402965381' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1150879044402965381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/1150879044402965381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/love-bugs.html' title='Love Bugs'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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://bp2.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvgL65oNDRI/AAAAAAAAAAk/RHz9cL-7wNo/s72-c/Lovebugs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-77441100741067113</id><published>2007-09-22T17:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T18:17:40.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Hair Day</title><content type='html'>The other day before swimming lessons, I was bending down to help PB put on his swim trunks in the gym locker room. He looked at my head , and said, "your hair is kind of blackish up there." Since the rest of my hair is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blond&lt;/span&gt;, I took this as a sign that I was long overdue for highlights. Now, since I just got them done about seven weeks ago &lt;a href="http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/07/hair-day.html"&gt;http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/07/hair-day.html&lt;/a&gt;, this is quite premature. When I have a good highlight/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lowlight&lt;/span&gt; job, I can go for three months or more. But because of aforementioned job, it was time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went about researching a new salon. I like the best when it comes my hair, I like swanky, chic, hip, and really don't care how much it costs. It's my hair &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;after all&lt;/span&gt;. So I went to City Search and found that one salon had received the Best of Award for two years running, and it was in Winter Park, a really nice area of Orlando. Surely, this would be great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called and made my appointment. It was a little unsettling when they asked if I'd like my hair dried and styled afterwards--for an additional $18! "Opposed to walking out with dripping wet hair?" I asked. The answer was yes. And while that might turn many people off, I thought, "wow, this place must be really great if they charge extra just for that." I was excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I began my drive there, enjoying my music on the radio and looking forward to a relaxing afternoon. I kept driving and driving. I passed the nice parts of Winter Park and think surely I've missed it. But the numbers are going in the right direction, so I keep going and going and going. Finally I see it--in a rundown, ramshackle strip mall with only a single neon sign to identify it "Salon"--not the name of the salon, just Salon. Not good, but I'm still thinking maybe it's a hidden treasure--after all it's City &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Search's&lt;/span&gt; Best. So I park, walk up and look in the window only to find the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;unswankiest&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;unhippest&lt;/span&gt;, rundown looking joint with a bunch of middle age ladies sitting under hairdryers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I panic, think of the horror my hair will ensure...and I hightail it back to my car and get out of there. I didn't answer my cell phone and didn't call them to cancel because what was I going to say, "Your place looks like a dump there's no way I'm trusting you with my hair?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do feel bad for standing up the poor stylist, but come on!!! City &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Search's&lt;/span&gt; BEST for two year's running. They have to be paying off people to vote or waging some kind of big blue-hair campaign, or sleeping with the judge or something. My Seattle salon was City &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Search's&lt;/span&gt; Best, and it was. This, clearly wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My penance I guess is the roots I'll continue to sport for another week or so and the research that will go into finding yet another salon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good thing is that since my time was free I got in a five-mile run. It was hot, but not unbearable. It didn't run fast--no idea how fast--but I felt good. I took a couple short walk breaks and at the half way point ran into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Walgreens&lt;/span&gt; for a bottle of water. My goal is to run the whole 5-mile loop without even one walk break, and then I'll move up to some more mileage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Saturday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-77441100741067113?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/77441100741067113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=77441100741067113' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/77441100741067113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/77441100741067113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/bad-hair-day.html' title='Bad Hair Day'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2787632698320196117</id><published>2007-09-21T18:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T17:32:50.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Naps or Lack Thereof</title><content type='html'>People are generally shocked when they find out my 4-year-old naps every day for at least a couple of hours. Now, after they have seen his extreme energy level during the rest of the day, they usually understand a bit. But even with that, it's pretty remarkable that I've gotten the nap as long as I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in Seattle when I was working and had to do live interviews during working hours I NEEDED his nap, and I fought hard to keep it. Vacations, weekends, you name it, he was in a crib or bed by 1:30 p.m EVERY day. Seriously, i was the ultimate Nap Nazi. So that plus the fact that it may be hereditary--my husband apparently napped forever and still needs a lot of sleep--left me confident that we'd keep napping for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with preschool from 9 a.m.- 2 p.m. (a long day!) and him seemingly exhausted at the end, I really wasn't figuring he'd give it up anytime soon. Of course just when I think I have things figured out they change... This week he's been on nap strike. Not ONE nap the entire week--all of a sudden. Quiet time, reading books, sure, but he just won't surrender and actually fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I thought, okay, maybe he's ready to give them up. Even said so much to my friend J during what should have been his quiet time. As soon as I hung up with her, we got in the car to go run a few errands (it was about 4:30 p.m.), and he promptly FELL ASLEEP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UGH! So I think we're somewhere in the middle (I've heard about this annoying purgatory from many others) between nap and no nap. Upon further pondering, my thoughts are that this is a power thing for him--he gets that he's able to choose not to fall asleep, but really I think he likes (and needs) that extra sleep no matter how much he wants to deny it. And I'm hoping that soon he starts napping again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, and in other HUGE news--remember the bowl PB wanted sooo badly &lt;a href="http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/08/bowl.html"&gt;http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/08/bowl.html&lt;/a&gt; ? I actually found it tonight on a total whim!!! After a disappointing dinner at Applebee's--ugh! (only because others were too busy and we were hungry), I had to run into the local Winn Dixie for milk. As I was booking it back to the cashiers, I caught the coveted bowl out of the corner of my eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB was thrilled! And honestly, it will be great to pack in his lunch and will save a bunch of world-polluting plastic bags. The negative is that he's already started to tell me about how only certain foods can go into certain colored sections ("in green can go honey dew and peas," he told me)--yeah, no, we're not even going there. I told him it's a magic bowl, and each day the Einstein characters would whisper in my ear what it wants in his/her section, and then it would be a surprise to him each day. We'll see how that goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even go into the huge fit he threw in the bookstore today--books were thrown, stares were plentiful, he yelled, threw himself on the floor, etc. etc.--the stuff of parenting nightmares. I was a little shocked by it, because for the most part, he's a great, well-behaved kid. A tantrum like this I've only seen from him in recent years when he was on antibiotics (they make him crazy). But today's I can't blame on antibiotics unfortunately. I'm not sure what to blame it on. Of course there is the whole fact that he's been ripped away from the life he knew, his toys, stability, friends etc. hmmm...can I blame my cranky mood on that too?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2787632698320196117?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2787632698320196117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2787632698320196117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2787632698320196117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2787632698320196117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/naps-or-lack-thereof.html' title='Naps or Lack Thereof'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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-1308260584734298381.post-8757728749046128604</id><published>2007-09-20T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T20:01:09.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reccomendations</title><content type='html'>There are many products, restaurants, brands, etc. that seriously should be paying me royalties. Because, as I've said before, when I like something, I REALLY like it. And, furthermore, when I like something, I want everyone else I know to like it as much as me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on this fairly no-news &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Thursday&lt;/span&gt; in my life, I'd like to refer you my friends (readers) to two blogs with recent postings that I really enjoy and think you will too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first, is Marissa at &lt;a href="http://mariskris.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://mariskris.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;.  You've got to want to be scared, then cry, then cringe, then feel a little ill, then ultimately be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;incredibly&lt;/span&gt; inspired. But seriously, she's just been through and amazing ordeal and has done a fabulous job writing about it. I'm really not sure how I found her blog (that happens to me a lot), but I'm glad I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second is my new "friend" Manic &lt;a href="http://www.manicmommy.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.manicmommy.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;. Her blog is incredibly entertaining in itself, and today's post is even quite racy! But she also has a site for her novel, which is gripping and a really good read. Plus, it's right there online, so it's like a book for free. check it out here  &lt;a href="http://www.40weeksanovel.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.40weeksanovel.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it for me. Had a great time with my college friend in town, and it didn't even rain us out. We had a great lunch at a little outdoor cafe on Park Avenue, complete with a glass of wine, which always makes me feel like I'm on vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB had swimming lessons this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;afternoon&lt;/span&gt;, which...can I be honest? are HOPELESS! I swear this child is never going to learn to swim. I'm a proud &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;peacock&lt;/span&gt; when it come to my child most of the time, but really there's no use to even pretend he has an inkling of talent for this sport. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure in time (a LOT of time) he'll learn, but he's just scared and too damn analytical. "If I drown and I'm lying at the bottom of the pool, what will happen to me?" Then he clutches to the teacher like there's a big squirrel near...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-8757728749046128604?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8757728749046128604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=8757728749046128604' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8757728749046128604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/8757728749046128604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/reccomendations.html' title='Reccomendations'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-3851356924317141762</id><published>2007-09-19T18:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T18:41:59.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Short Legs, Running and Rain</title><content type='html'>This morning, for the first time in the two-plus months we've been here, I woke up to rain. LOTS of rain, rain that caused me to get out the umbrella. And that's got to tell you a lot about the amount of rain, because in the six or so years I lived in Seattle, I don't think I ever used one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;maneuvering&lt;/span&gt; an umbrella-obsessed 4-year-old to the car and then into his classroom, it was time for my workout. I'd planned to run outside and figured the rain would clear shortly. While, as I've previously noted there are huge thunderstorms here nearly everyday, they are very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;short lived&lt;/span&gt;--like 20 minutes a lot of time. Then the sun comes out and life resumes. Not so today. It rained and rained and rained and then rained some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I altered my plans and went to the gym instead. I ran four strong miles on the treadmill with no walk breaks. I felt really good and did some weights too. Of course, I got on the scale again, and it still hasn't budged. I don't understand how that is possible, but oh well, I feel better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I can watch television while I run--personal flat screen &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;televisions&lt;/span&gt; on each &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;treadmill&lt;/span&gt;--I don't mind it so much, but I do prefer to be outside. Especially today, as the woman next to me was apparently watching something &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hilarious&lt;/span&gt;. Seriously, the second she started walking and watching, she started chuckling; then it turned into full-on belly laughs. Now, I understand to a point, can even find it a little endearing as I  REALLY have to watch myself so I don't sing along with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;newfound&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;VH&lt;/span&gt;1-love hits. But she was seriously annoying. I think she laughed for at least the last 25 minutes of my run. I'm glad she was having a good time, but really, it just seemed weird and a little forced, like she wanted someone to come up and ask her what she was laughing about. I should have started singing to drown her out.  And just a side note, my new favorite song/band I've heard is Maroon 5--"blah, blah, 6'4 so I had to shoot him dead..." can't get it out of my head! (It's really hard for me not to sing along with that one!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here's a question for you runners, and realize I may be grasping here but here goes--is it harder for people with short legs to run as fast as people with long legs. Now I get that they probably run naturally faster than those of us with short stubs, but when I'm on a treadmill doing about 6.5 miles an hour, and the person next to me is doing like 8.5 miles per hour, I swear my legs are going just as fast--no, actually a lot faster-than theirs.  It seems like the energy I have to expend to run at that pace is multiplied hugely. Do I burn more calories? Not sure I'm explaining this right, but let me know if you have any insight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I'm going to start looking for a half marathon to sign up for. I thought I'd do the Disney one, but it's already full. I guess I need to plan further ahead. I also need to find a good local running store. When I trained for the marathons in Austin, there as an awesome store that always had good advice, resources for runners, etc. I'm sure there's on here, I just need to figure it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, the season premiere of "America's Next Top Model" was on tonight. I love it--totally my favorite reality show. Tried to watch "Gossip Girl" after that, but honestly, it just looked too awful for even me. So  now I have a break before I watch "The Real World". Pathetic I know :) (I won't even mention that Newport Harbor follows that).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow a good friend of mine from college is coming into town, and I'm hoping that it stops raining so we can stroll around Winter Park for awhile, have a nice lunch outside and do some shopping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-3851356924317141762?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3851356924317141762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=3851356924317141762' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3851356924317141762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/3851356924317141762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/short-legs-running-and-rain.html' title='Short Legs, Running and Rain'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-2342555513019714727</id><published>2007-09-18T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T13:38:30.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping</title><content type='html'>I skipped my workout this morning. My left foot has been really bugging me, my legs felt tight, and I thought I could use a day of rest. And by rest, I mean shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PB has been adamant for months now that he wants to be a spider for Halloween. I figured he would change his mind a zillion times between now and then, but he has not wavered. That's fine with me, as I'm not ready for him to be something more grownup like Spiderman or a Power Ranger. I'm sure that will come in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the more I started looking around, the more I found that the spider costumes were in smaller sizes, not a 4T o 5T, like we need. Pottery Barn Kids was the only place I could find, but they were sold out almost as quickly as they appeared online. I e-mailed a good friend of mine, because I know she's a resourceful shopper, and lo and behold, her son is going to be the same spider!! She tipped me off to the fact that some of the store had gotten shipments over the weekend, even though they're not available online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I set off for the mall right after dropping PB off, waited outside for the store to open. His size was not hanging on the shelf, but they checked in the back and viola!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvAvjRyQy-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/LPzxscAw24U/s1600-h/spider+costume.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111637860181658594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvAvjRyQy-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/LPzxscAw24U/s320/spider+costume.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was so incredibly excited when I showed it to him, he was kissing it. Now, he just better not change his mind in the next month and a half!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other shopping news, not so exciting. See, I'm used to buying pretty much whatever I want (within reason of course). Not to sound spoiled, but I worked hard, and that was part of the reason I did--so I could shop. Now that I'm a lady of leisure and know that everything I spend is really coming out of savings until our house sells, it's not quite so fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even if I'm not spending, I still love to practice shopping. I could try things on for hours, browse, and just be in the stores. Buying more, of course, is more fun, but that will come again in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my new budget is finely tuning my budget shopping skills. Just last week I was walking through Target, and I saw a dress that looked cute. It happened to be in the little girls' department, but you know what, an XL in little girls actually fits me and my short legs. So I got a darling little dress for $12.99!!! I can't wait until someone asks me where I got it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I'm compiling my list of wants for when our house sells. At the top of the list are these Tom Ford glasses:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvAygxyQy_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/vSMsQPBRWXg/s1600-h/glasses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111641115766868978" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvAygxyQy_I/AAAAAAAAAAU/vSMsQPBRWXg/s320/glasses.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, we were very happy to see the Feds cut interest rates. Perhaps that will bring out more buyers...and I'll get my glasses (and my camera and everything else on my list) soon!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-2342555513019714727?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2342555513019714727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=2342555513019714727' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2342555513019714727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/2342555513019714727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/shopping.html' title='Shopping'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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://bp3.blogger.com/_PPfXJM9D3uY/RvAvjRyQy-I/AAAAAAAAAAM/LPzxscAw24U/s72-c/spider+costume.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308260584734298381.post-4816713200922052973</id><published>2007-09-17T14:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T18:14:52.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That Mom</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite parts of the day is walking PB to and from his preschool classroom. The school is undergoing some construction so it takes a few minutes, but it's fun to hold his hand, talk about the day to come or that has just passed. I like to hear him and his friends call out to each other and chat (he seems so big these days!). I like standing around with the other parents before and after school chatting and getting to know them. I've met some really nice moms, and it seems like a great community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, however, we were walking to PB's classroom when all of a sudden a woman pushes me, yes pushes, me out of the way and runs past trailing two girls behind her. "Sorry, have a kindergartner," she shouted on her way by. No excuse me, no accident here, it was a pure out and out shove as she bolstered her way past me. I was shocked, not really believing that this happened at preschool, and a Christian one at that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After recovering from the jolt, I shrugged it off, because I'd seen her around on a few other occasions, and I just knew she was just "That Mom." The mom who tries too hard, has no social skills, is loud, overbearing and just has no clue how to behave much of the time. When your trying to be polite and her name comes up innocently, you see the looks on the faces of others around that tell you they also know she's That Mom. Of course you never discuss it; it's just there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To her credit she did find me later at a parents' meeting and apologized in this breathless, annoying way, but it really wasn't apologizing--more like defending what she did. "It's Kindergarten and they count attendance and everything," she told me. Personally, I'd rather have my child be tardy than to have him see me shove someone out of the way, but to each his own. I just wanted her to leave before she took the seat next to me, so I said, "no problem".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That Mom was present in Seattle last year in PB's class as well. She was the one who for at least the first eight weeks of school asked me EVERYtime she saw me if PB was an only child. Seriously, EVERY time. It was so annoying, particularly because it's an emotional issue for me. I'm not sure if she wanted more of an explanation, wanted me to say something more, or if she was just clueless. But it was incredible to me that it kept happening over and over. And it wasn't just me that was victim to her careless remarks. She told another mom, "You're a big woman, aren't you?" and to another she asked how she got such petite daughters when she, "wasn't petite at all."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while annoying, That Mom really doesn't have any ill intentions (that's a whole other breed of mother). Behind their brash behavior I really think they're trying. Not everyone is comfortable in social situations, and when you're a mom you're often forced into them for your children's sake. Probably the That Moms out there are at least a little self aware and don't want their children to turn out as socially awkward as they are. So they end up trying too hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have more compassion I guess, but not too much. That Mom is notorious for finding a hapless mother and leeching on. Then there she is shouting your name across a parking lot the size of a football field, pushing countless others out of her way as she catches up to you and talks your ear off loudly in and out of the building each day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Like always, I have to qualify what I just wrote and say, I realize that there are many types of moms out there. None of us is perfect--who knows maybe I'm That Mom to someone? But for the most part, we're all doing our best, and in the end that's what really matters...no matter how annoying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1308260584734298381-4816713200922052973?l=closetmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4816713200922052973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1308260584734298381&amp;postID=4816713200922052973' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4816713200922052973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1308260584734298381/posts/default/4816713200922052973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://closetmom.blogspot.com/2007/09/that-mom.html' title='That Mom'/><author><name>secretmom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17491796135866901511</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></feed>
