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<title>Hello and introduce yourself</title>
<link>./?r=p/1273517921</link>
<description><![CDATA[By the title of my blog you can see I am a mom.  I have two great children who inspire me everyday.  I started writing blogs on www.mommytalk.com, and some of the blogs were used as daily features.  I write about the everyday life of being a mom.  My children, my frustration.  Just as my children learn everyday, so do I. ]]></description>
<pubDate>Mon, 10 May 2010 13:58:41 GMT</pubDate>
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<title>The Eccentric Ones</title>
<link>./?r=p/1273517882</link>
<description><![CDATA[One of the greatest things about children is their incredible knack of seeing things not how they were meant to be. Their sense of imagination and wonder turns the most ordinary things into the most extraordinary things. How a bowl can be a hat or a pot and spoon creates their very own rock band. I am truly amazed everyday at my children’s sense of wonder.

Nolan has a great imagination. Being four I get great detail on what is and isn’t. “Mom that’s not a bowl that is a ramp for my monster trucks.” He states this so convincingly that I sometimes find myself questioning my own adult reality. All this time I was mixing thing and preparing food in that bowl-silly me . The true testament to Nolan’s imagination was when he wanted me to build a circus tent. I helped him, he instructed me how to put the blankets on my four poster bed. I got a kick watching his face as we constructed and played in the tent, he saw something more then a bed and blankets, he saw a whole new world.

Megan not talking yet it is harder to say how she sees things, and I really would love to know. Meg being one means she will play with any and everything she can get her hands on, being that it is safe I will let her play. The newest one intrigues me though, a bit strange, feminine hygiene products. It came to my attention one day when I found a tampon wrapper in the middle of the living room then the tampon on the steps, a clean one ladies don‘t worry. I was quite shocked but happy no neighbor stopped by and happen to see female products strewed about the house. What she thinks tampons are I will never know, but when she does find out what they really are for she’ll realize they are not fun at all.

An adults cannot get away with walking around with a bowl on their head, if we did we would probably be committed . Was Johnny Appleseed sane when he planted apple seeds with a pot on his head. When we see a person walking around with some sort of eccentricity, are they certifiable or has that sense of wonder never left them? I do often wonder at what age I lost that pure creative thinking, or did I lose it at all? As a mom I often have to MacGyver it and find a way to appease the mass. A cold washcloth becomes a teething aid or a walk around the block becomes a hike through the rain forest. Children truly are eccentric beings, who else could break us out of our everyday adult shells and see the world as it truly was meant to be.]]></description>
<pubDate>Mon, 10 May 2010 13:58:02 GMT</pubDate>
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<title>Real Moms Don’t Wear High Heels</title>
<link>./?r=p/1273517862</link>
<description><![CDATA[As featured on mommytalk.com
On a day to day basis I am faced with the daunting task of picking between my blue jeans or the stretchy pants. I run through the day in my head and if there are no Doctors appointments, or meetings the stretchy go on. When in my wildest dreams would a pair of blue jeans be considered dressing up?

When I was seventeen leaving high school I dreamed of wearing fancy suits and having the shoe collection rivaling Imelda Marcos . Sadly though. my closet contains the mommy staples, jogging pants, jeans, t-shirts, fleece sweaters and the one nice pair of pants you pull out for the funerals and weddings. I have watched the shows that say “you can be a mom and be fashionable.” I know I will one day, be fashionable, when ketchup stains and snot smears grace the Paris runways .

Most moms can testify to this one, especially those who have little girls, that children are more fashionable then their mommies. How did this happen? I buy my clothes, I buy my kids clothes but my daughter receives more compliments on her pink peacoat then I do on my white fleece sweater. Not that I am complaining, but why can’t I apply that fashion sense to myself? Why do I get more excitement shopping for a one year old then I do for myself.

Shoes come with a different set of rules. I know I can’t chase the tots in a pair of six inch heels, but is there not fashionable flats. Most days though you see me wearing the uniform mommy footwear, flip-flops in the summer and faux Uggs in the winter. I really can’t run after them in flip-flops either, but I must say by the end of summer I have mastered the art of keeping sandals on my feet

My reasoning for my fashion faux pas is that my kids come first. I enjoy shopping for them, I love the pinks for girls and seeing my sons face when he gets a new Cars shirt. I take more time picking out what they wear because I get more pride and happiness out of my children then a pair of Manolo Blahniks can ever give me. Maybe one day I will chase them in six inch heels, or wear the “it” dress, but for now I have two kids to chase, so bring on the stretch pants. ]]></description>
<pubDate>Mon, 10 May 2010 13:57:42 GMT</pubDate>
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<title>High Tides and Low Rise</title>
<link>./?r=p/1273517843</link>
<description><![CDATA[ As I was putting on a pair of jeans, ones that were worn before the second pregnancy, I realized I could not get them up past my hips. Granted I know I have put on a couple of “L-Bs.” but the thing was they were not suppose to go on past my hips, the label says “super low-rise” Could it be I actually own a pair of Britney Spears, thong strap showing denim blues. I was so mortified, I really cannot remember these jean being so low, what a ho I was . I swear if I saw my daughter wearing a pair of jeans like that I would flip. Then it hit me, I have said something, became something, something I thought I would never become- my mother.

Those low-rise jeans took me back ten years ago, Senior Girls Dance, I had picked out the perfect dress and was escorting my mom to pay for my said dress. Well when my mom saw it her expression said it all, it said “no daughter of mine is walking around like she just got off the hooker bus.” With a quick “NO” I was off to find another dress. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to look cool and sophisticated. I was seventeen I should of been able to wear whatever the hell I wanted.

My mom always made sure we were dressed appropriately, heck I spend three years in a Catholic school. We never walked out the door in anything to reveling. It was the source of much frustration as a teen-ager. We were allowed to experiment test the waters if you will. It is harder to go to far, into the water, when the better part of your high school days were during the Seattle grunge movement. My sister did have a little Goth faze but she was held back from dying her hair and piercing every part of her body.

After I left the house it took awhile to change my conservative wardrobe. Some low-cut shirts and tiny skirts. I did always have that little voice in the back of my head, I rebelled. I dressed the way I wanted and it was great. Mind you in no way did I look like I fell of the hooker bus, but I was sexy. So when did it all change? What made me cringe and inevitably question my choice in pant rise. How did I become mom? 

I have to admit that I get a chuckle every time I catch myself yelling at my children “Don’t make me come up there” or as my mom teased me, when I called my daughter “Lady” like my dad called me. We come to learn that maybe what are parents taught so long ago wasn’t so bad. In sixteen years when Megan shows me low cut jeans or a reveling top I know I will give her the same look my mother gave me.

All this got me thinking about a Question of the Day awhile back, are you a better parent then your parents were. I answered yes and the truth is when Megan and Nolan are parents I hope they are a better parent then I was. I hope they learn from their mistakes as well as my own. One day, thirty years from now I hope Megan is blogging about her own “mom” revelation and admitting mom was right….only just a little.
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<pubDate>Mon, 10 May 2010 13:57:23 GMT</pubDate>
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<title>the lil’ mommy that could</title>
<link>./?r=p/1273517824</link>
<description><![CDATA[the lil’ mommy that could A blog about all that goes along with the journey of motherhood-looking back,searching ahead and enjoying the present  I started this blog after wise words from a friend and after some of my blogs were featured on www.mommytalk.com . I hope you enjoy.]]></description>
<pubDate>Mon, 10 May 2010 13:57:04 GMT</pubDate>
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<title>Real moms bake Casseroles</title>
<link>./?r=p/1273517792</link>
<description><![CDATA[Inspired by a recipe in a chat, thanks Rachel, it got me thinking about the importance of having some good casserole recipes in the repertoire. I watch those cooking shows, with the gourmet cooks, and admire their seared beef tenderloin with a sherry reduction placed artistically on a plate amongst field greens and truffled mashed potatoes . They work masterfully, food artist if you will , no doubt years of training and a great passion for food. A true test for those chefs would be to have two screaming toddlers at their feet.

The casserole to me is a true art form. The true test to how good a casserole is can be told by 2 points, one how many pots and pans you use and two how good it hides the veggies. One pan and cheesy veggies my kids are eating rivals any four star chef’s culinary delights.

Providing a meal with the essential food groups is important to me. As a kid growing up my mom always made sure we had a protein, starch and vegetable on our plate every night, and it is only right that I share that with my children. My mom was very good at throwing whatever in a bowl and calling it dinner, well she had another name for it but might hurt some virgin ears. I remember though sitting at the table with my mom, brother and sister sharing a moment and sharing our day. Some of my best memories as a kid involves the dinner table.

I think as mom were are passions lie are not how fancy are meals but how they sustain our children, helps them grow and feel nourished. The casserole enables me to incorporate all the things my children need and have a little time to play with the kiddos. I love when my kids love what I cook, but just as equally am frustrated when they turn their lil’ noses at my cooking skills. Every time I cook something I know I am giving a little love to my family.

So tonight I will proudly take out a can of cream of mushroom soup, proudly mix it with some noodles maybe some tuna, and some peas. I could make a five course dinner, be a true Renoir of the culinary world, but tonight I will create a tuna casserole to throw those foodies off their rockers!
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<pubDate>Mon, 10 May 2010 13:56:32 GMT</pubDate>
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<title>I Think I Can…</title>
<link>./?r=p/1273517770</link>
<description><![CDATA[This will gross a lot of people , but I can tell how good my day was by one simple test, the teeth, flooring comparison. If my teeth are as smooth as porcelain tile, it has been a good day, if my teeth are like a 1960’s shag carpet it has been a bad day. Okay it is not because I haven’t brushed my teeth all day, it is because on bad days my sugar/pop/chocolate consumption triples and because, okay I question my oral hygiene. Among the trails of the day, the crying, the tantrum the possible caring of a sick child, did I take two minutes to take care of myself?As a mom I think sometimes we forget our own needs. There are the days when the endless list of things yet to be done is screaming in the corner. How to get it done? We forget sometimes to delegate. In the big business world that word, delegate, is thrown around a lot. When it comes to running the empire that is our family why do we take the load on ourselves. Stay at home moms, like myself, often feel the guilt of not making financial contributions to the home but even working moms take the brunt of the household, child rearing tasks. Just the other day my husband decided to help me with laundry, I was thrilled, I was not so thrilled when he left the basket of clean clothes for me to fold. It was easier for some reason to sulk, throw a little tizzy so why didn’t I ask for his help, delegate while I did my other tasks.I write this blog, as well as all my blogs as a release, to gain perspective, a hot shower for the soul. On those bad days when we are chugging up that hill, wondering when did I take a minute for myself, and the all important question did I brush my teeth today? You have to let go and release some of the load, ask for help. Some road will be rocky, some smooth but we keep chuggin’ along “I think I can, I think I can…”  the lil’ mommy that could!]]></description>
<pubDate>Mon, 10 May 2010 13:56:10 GMT</pubDate>
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<title>Journey into Sensory Processing Disorder:The Discovery</title>
<link>./?r=p/1273517740</link>
<description><![CDATA[From time to time I will post blogs called Journey into Sensory Processing Disorder(SPD).  My son suffers from this little known learning disability.  With a lot of help he is doing great.  I wrote this blog 12-13-2007..  If you have any questions about SPD please feel free to comment and ask questions.

Last year at this time was incredibly hard for me. Not because of the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, but because we were in the mist of having our son tested for a possible learning disability.
It all started at my sons 3 year check-up. After the evaluation the Doctor felt like his speech was behind. He suggested I enroll him in a local preschool for more social interaction. I was in a daze. Honestly I was mad at the Doctor-How dare you tell me there is something wrong with my son- I can understand him just fine-the Doctor just wasn’t listening. After I went home and cryed on the phone to my mom, I decided better to be safe then sorry, to go forward and try what the doctor suggested. We enrolled him in preschool.
After his first week in preschool the teacher approached me. She felt like Nolan was not able to communicate what he knew and he had a lot of energy. She suggested that I have him evaluated by the school. I was crushed I didn’t want to believe Nolan might be different then the other kids. But I knew we had to go further to help him.
The evaluation with the school was hard. They had 10 kids in a room and they just watched them play, coached him on some things, drawing lines, jumping. We did a hearing and vision test then we were sent home. “What that was it” I thought. I was so confused. Then a week later I recieved a booklet in the mail with a list of behaviors. As I looked at them, having worked with autistic kids, they were all autistic behaviors. As I answered the questions I just thought Nolan can’t be autistic and in my heart I couldn’t answer the questions right in fear of that.
After a couple weeks of waiting -over the Christmas holiday, we were called into a meeting with the school.
With a room full of early education teachers, speech and occupational therapists we sat down to talk about Nolan. “Sensory Processing Disorder” is what they called it. I had never heard of this before. As they talked about it I cried- it explained a lot of Nolan’s behavior. Things I questioned. Things the Doctor was worried about. I left that building feeling hope, and joy but still a little scared of our journey ahead.
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<pubDate>Mon, 10 May 2010 13:55:40 GMT</pubDate>
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