<?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-19693484</id><updated>2012-02-16T16:11:09.886-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How did I get here?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>56</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-3171115926174228163</id><published>2008-11-01T21:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T21:42:00.205-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Over a year already???</title><content type='html'>Wow.  Cannot believe that it's been over a year since my last post.  We were just about to move into this house when i last posted. Same shit still - Although I have quit all but ONE job.  so, that's new and different for a change!  If my stupid camera would stop crashing my computer every time I logged in, maybe I could upload a few pics as well - The kids are just getting bigger and bigger - Ev's in Kindergarten - the baby, well , is almost not even a BABY  anymore  - being as that he is only 2 months away from being 2 years old already.  Where did that time go?   I will miss those baby days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-3171115926174228163?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/3171115926174228163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=3171115926174228163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/3171115926174228163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/3171115926174228163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2008/11/over-year-already.html' title='Over a year already???'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-6903755287606149669</id><published>2007-06-17T19:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T19:41:00.744-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Three things I have learned</title><content type='html'>I am not a boy, therefore, there are things that boys do that I will never understand..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXUYxjFuQI/AAAAAAAAACU/V-HZSu8WRo4/s1600-h/100_1103.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXUYxjFuQI/AAAAAAAAACU/V-HZSu8WRo4/s320/100_1103.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077197677012564226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All babies are cute, but fat babies are the best...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXTRBjFuPI/AAAAAAAAACM/QFHKUH2aqc0/s1600-h/P4176162.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXTRBjFuPI/AAAAAAAAACM/QFHKUH2aqc0/s320/P4176162.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077196444356950258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And don't be afraid to enjoy your food...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXR0BjFuNI/AAAAAAAAAB8/olTxe_TU9Pk/s1600-h/100_1399.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXR0BjFuNI/AAAAAAAAAB8/olTxe_TU9Pk/s320/100_1399.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077194846629116114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-6903755287606149669?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/6903755287606149669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=6903755287606149669' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/6903755287606149669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/6903755287606149669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/06/three-things-i-have-learned.html' title='Three things I have learned'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXUYxjFuQI/AAAAAAAAACU/V-HZSu8WRo4/s72-c/100_1103.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-4202008192669752528</id><published>2007-06-13T19:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T19:27:50.284-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kewpies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXRexjFuMI/AAAAAAAAAB0/EcT6HX1cXUc/s1600-h/100_1449.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXRexjFuMI/AAAAAAAAAB0/EcT6HX1cXUc/s320/100_1449.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077194481556895938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnCKgxjFuKI/AAAAAAAAABk/GzLz_2cgySI/s1600-h/kewpie1b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnCKgxjFuKI/AAAAAAAAABk/GzLz_2cgySI/s320/kewpie1b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075709075707508898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnCKYRjFuJI/AAAAAAAAABc/SSAgiXCpNHo/s1600-h/thankYou1.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-4202008192669752528?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/4202008192669752528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=4202008192669752528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/4202008192669752528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/4202008192669752528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/06/kewpies.html' title='Kewpies'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RnXRexjFuMI/AAAAAAAAAB0/EcT6HX1cXUc/s72-c/100_1449.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-263721211542029589</id><published>2007-06-06T22:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T22:28:13.798-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I will sleep when I want, where I want</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rmd7HhjFuII/AAAAAAAAABU/nAMkyW1pnGE/s1600-h/100_1415.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rmd7HhjFuII/AAAAAAAAABU/nAMkyW1pnGE/s320/100_1415.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073158874450999426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-263721211542029589?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/263721211542029589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=263721211542029589' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/263721211542029589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/263721211542029589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-will-sleep-when-i-want-where-i-want.html' title='I will sleep when I want, where I want'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rmd7HhjFuII/AAAAAAAAABU/nAMkyW1pnGE/s72-c/100_1415.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-5672724595879672316</id><published>2007-05-31T20:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-31T20:42:43.021-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Peeing in the can</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rl95VacFudI/AAAAAAAAABE/VfexMpZsLoM/s1600-h/100_1383.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rl95VacFudI/AAAAAAAAABE/VfexMpZsLoM/s320/100_1383.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070905114223819218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rl95V6cFueI/AAAAAAAAABM/kORuLCodFS4/s1600-h/100_1385.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rl95V6cFueI/AAAAAAAAABM/kORuLCodFS4/s320/100_1385.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070905122813753826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I haven't been on here lately for good reason.  One kid is a lot of work, 2 kids are even more work and 4 kids - well, forget it.  Plus, we are in the process of buying a house, I'm working my normal job and then cleaning houses on the side. Doesn't leave time for much.  Although I know the days will come when I will look back on this time and remember when the baby was still a baby and Evan still a little man.  I won't remember much about it, probably, because I swear I'm mentally deficient some days to the point I am lucky I don't wind up at work in my pj's b/c I was  so busy getting everyone else ready that I forgot about myself.  I probably will even laugh, in a few years, about the pee I poured on my feet today.  Why would I knowingly pour pee on myself? I wouldn't.   I dumped out the bathroom garbage can and in my mental slug forgot to put a bag back in.  When I went to put in a fresh bag, there was something in the can, so I proceeded to dump that into the bag when I felt a shower upon my feet and legs.  When looking upon the cream colored rug, I saw it was yellow liquid.  Hmm...now, what could that be? One look at the 4 year old in the tub clued me in.  He was staring straight at - his feet, and wouldn't look at me.  So I asked him if he knew what that was, which he said - no. We had a talk about lying, and then he told me it was pee.  What would posess him to pee in a garbage can when a perfectly good toilet is 2 inches from the can is beyond me.  I chalk it up to the boy thing.  I have to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-5672724595879672316?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/5672724595879672316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=5672724595879672316' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/5672724595879672316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/5672724595879672316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/05/peeing-in-can.html' title='Peeing in the can'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rl95VacFudI/AAAAAAAAABE/VfexMpZsLoM/s72-c/100_1383.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-7647334236974813774</id><published>2007-04-25T17:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-25T17:16:46.768-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid is as stupid does, I guess</title><content type='html'>I found an article in the local paper yesterday that really pissed me off.  Seems some guy, who is licensed to carry a gun, shot a kid.  Well, let's be clear here - the kid somehow wound up on this guy's porch with his own gun and wanted to rob him.  So, the homeowner shot him.  And the kid's cousin or somebody was quoted by the paper whining about how her cousin is now dead.  Well, here's a big news flash - MAYBE HE SHOULDN'T BE OUT, CARRYING A GUN AND TRYING TO ROB PEOPLE! I am so sick of hearing all this crap about how sorry they feel for the kid.  Do I think it's a good thing when people die, hell no! But, if you are out, robbing, carjacking, threatening people with guns, trying to shoot at cops, trying to run over cops, well, what do you think the chances are that you might get harmed yourself? It's a sad shame that there are kids as young as 11 or 12 years old out trying to be tough and needing a gun to prove it.  But it's even more of a shame that people are up arms over innocent people trying to protect themselves, rather than asking what a kid is doing with a gun and how they can change that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-7647334236974813774?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/7647334236974813774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=7647334236974813774' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/7647334236974813774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/7647334236974813774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/04/stupid-is-as-stupid-does-i-guess.html' title='Stupid is as stupid does, I guess'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-6864747911660750526</id><published>2007-04-11T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T21:28:13.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WTF?</title><content type='html'>I am sitting at work today and talking to the paralegal.  We are chatting it up, and I turn around to look at her and there, sitting in the middle of the freaking office, is a mouse.  I stop in midsentence, muttering "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" She follows my gaze to the floor, and the little shit is just sitting there, hovering, quivering, like he has no idea that we are even there.  I mean, aren't mice supposed to run from humans? Not walk right into the middle of the f'ing floor and sit down? And then not even move after hearing our squeals?  We both panic, not knowing what to do.  This clearly falls under "Man's Job".  We are not men.  We decide to throw a box over top of it and see what happens.  It doesn't move, it is trapped.  We leave it there, figuring it will die or someone will get it - eventually.  Just not us.  I leave voicemail for the boss that we do not remember in our job descriptions the wording "pest control".  What a little ballsy thing.    I am crabby due to our shitty weather, which graced us with 80 degrees last week, only to f'ing snow on Easter, and yes, it's still shitty, although the snow has turned to rain instead.  I get the boys from the sitter, get home, give Cole a bath, of course he graces me with a urine shower prior to being placed in the tub.  After that , get him out, go to feed him, all is well until the burping period, when somehow he manages to puke not only all over my shoulder, but it slides down my chest right through my cleavage.  It's not the best feeling in the world, of this I am sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-6864747911660750526?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/6864747911660750526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=6864747911660750526' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/6864747911660750526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/6864747911660750526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/04/wtf.html' title='WTF?'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-6938739821003914676</id><published>2007-03-26T19:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T19:54:27.828-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Love those cheeks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RghrGC-mkKI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nrIsuZ8VW9o/s1600-h/100_1127.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RghrGC-mkKI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nrIsuZ8VW9o/s320/100_1127.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046401134091473058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-6938739821003914676?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/6938739821003914676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=6938739821003914676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/6938739821003914676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/6938739821003914676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/03/love-those-cheeks.html' title='Love those cheeks'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RghrGC-mkKI/AAAAAAAAAAw/nrIsuZ8VW9o/s72-c/100_1127.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-2823543174082636528</id><published>2007-03-19T20:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T20:45:31.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The miracle of breastfeeding</title><content type='html'>I'm not going to get all sappy about how great it is to breastfeed your baby, I am just going to post two pictures and you can see for yourself what wonders it has done for me in , uh, two areas.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            Before:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rf88KIH5gvI/AAAAAAAAAAo/Ekt-Yvdm7Ng/s1600-h/100_0389_1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rf88KIH5gvI/AAAAAAAAAAo/Ekt-Yvdm7Ng/s320/100_0389_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043816252355216114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                            After:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rf87u4H5guI/AAAAAAAAAAg/5XR03Z3VaUs/s1600-h/100_1133.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rf87u4H5guI/AAAAAAAAAAg/5XR03Z3VaUs/s320/100_1133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043815784203780834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's too bad I can't keep them forever!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-2823543174082636528?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/2823543174082636528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=2823543174082636528' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/2823543174082636528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/2823543174082636528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/03/miracle-of-breastfeeding.html' title='The miracle of breastfeeding'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/Rf88KIH5gvI/AAAAAAAAAAo/Ekt-Yvdm7Ng/s72-c/100_0389_1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-2077203169840229471</id><published>2007-02-21T12:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-21T14:12:36.279-05:00</updated><title type='text'>An average day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RdyZh-zdDbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pN2W8s4Z_GA/s1600-h/100_1030.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RdyZh-zdDbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pN2W8s4Z_GA/s320/100_1030.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034067292566916530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6am - Wake up , feel myself up to see which boob is fuller, unleash that boob, feed baby, count number of minutes i have to sleep from time he finishes to time I have to get up, never satisifed with the number..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:30am - wake up, change diaper (on baby) put his vibrating seat in the bathroom, start water for shower, enter Evan, who pushes me out of the way saying "i gotta pee mommy".  Take 1.5 second shower, or at least that is what it feels like.  All the while peeking out to make sure that oh, evan didn't decide that he should pick up Cole and take him somewhere.  Baby starts crying, i hastily get out of shower, forgetting that conditioner was never rinsed out of hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:45am - Evan wants to take a bath and doesn't understand my need to get dressed before i help him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:00am- try to dress evan while nursing cole.  getting better at this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:30 - off to babysitters with evan so i can work from home without interruption - well, without interruptions of an almost 4 year old, who has 20 questions about everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9am - try to log on to work email, something is wrong and i cannot get in.  make coffee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:15 - get into work email, then house phone rings.. remember while on phone i forgot to turn on the dryer...in 1.2 seconds forget about it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:30-11:30 - baby time, changing, feeding, playing, rocking, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:00 - oh crap, forgot to put in the mailbox the mail i have been meaning to mail out the last 4 days. oh well, try again tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:30 - oh yeah, i should do some work now that the baby is sleeping - as i stare at the couch and daydream about sleeping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:35 - baby is crying, binky fell out.  replace binky. back to work, oh wait, i didn't even start yet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:00 - baby wants to eat.  man this kid eats alot.  maybe that is why he is getting 3 chins, and arm and leg rolls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2ish - oops, must of dozed off after finished feeding Cole.  oh well.  try to sleep a little longer, that way I'll be more productive this afternoon - yeah, that sounds about right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:20  - guess he doesn't want to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:30 - ok, time for the swing, that should buy me about 15 minutes to do work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:40 - or maybe he'll just puke all over himself and the swing, and then on me.  strip down baby, swing, myself. realize i never turned on dryer and hence have no clean bra. not wearing one is not an option, as they have ballooned up to mammoth size and feel like i am carrying a 5 lb weight on each side. stay in wet, dirty clothes until dryer finishes it's cycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:40 - ahh, clean bra, clean shirt. heaven. wait, did i eat lunch yet? nope, and so a grilled cheese seems easy enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:45 - why isn't this grilled cheese cooking? check stove - forgot to turn on burner. that would explain it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:00 - Oh yeah, work.  let's see here, ok, feed baby so maybe he'll sleep. and then work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:45 - ok, baby sleeping, might as well throw in some laundry, put the dishes away and reload the dishwasher, fold the clothes from the dryer, run the vacuum, just really quick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:30 - justin home from work. evan home from sitter.  time to make dinner.  forgot to get key ingredients for dinner while at grocery store other day.  damn brain farts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:30 - after dinner cleanup, try to do something with evan so he doesn't feel left out and unimportant since new baby came home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:30 - tired, so so tired. baby hungry again. evan wants to play some more.  i just want sleep, lots and lots of uninterrupted sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:30 - bargin with evan about bedtime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:30 - evan yelling from his room MOMMY. run to see what the emergency is.  he is thristy. make deal about how much water he can have, since we don't want a pee filled bed in the middle of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:45 - evan yelling again. he is hungry this time. make peanut butter bread, and of course, needs something else to drink as peanut butter makes him thirsty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:15 - justin has nerve to wink at me and say ' you ready for me baby'? huh. not quite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:30 - feed baby, pretend that tonight he will sleep for 4 hour stretches just to make myself feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:35 - in bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:36 sleeping&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:30 - baby awake and hungry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:00 - wake, whip out boob, feed, burp, repeat with other boob.  change diaper.  briefly wonder if it would benefit me to wear diapers also, it would save me the precious sleep time it takes me to make my twice nightly trips to the bathroom.  think about recent astronaut story.  decide to forego diaper wearing for now.  worry about bills, think of work that didn't get done.  fall back asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:00 - repeat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:30- repeat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:00 - start it all over again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, when I look at these two - i realize i wouldn't have it any other way&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-2077203169840229471?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/2077203169840229471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=2077203169840229471' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/2077203169840229471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/2077203169840229471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/02/average-day.html' title='An average day'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_W0IWX9aflF4/RdyZh-zdDbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pN2W8s4Z_GA/s72-c/100_1030.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-117011607019223173</id><published>2007-01-29T19:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T19:14:30.210-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome, Cole Alexander....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2941/1954/1600/705053/100_0884.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2941/1954/320/586009/100_0884.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 4, 2007&lt;br /&gt;6:15pm&lt;br /&gt;6lb 1 oz,  19-1/2 inches&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Darling baby boy, I am so glad you are here!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Labor was induced at 2:05pm, he was born 4 hours later.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a lucky, lucky, lucky girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-117011607019223173?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/117011607019223173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=117011607019223173' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/117011607019223173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/117011607019223173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/01/welcome-cole-alexander.html' title='Welcome, Cole Alexander....'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-116776318970480599</id><published>2007-01-02T13:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T13:47:50.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting and waiting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2941/1954/1600/810367/100_0875.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2941/1954/320/592468/100_0875.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39 weeks and counting...Evan came at 39 weeks - but isn't your second kid supposed to come earlier or did someone tell me that just to make me feel better?  They are talking about inducing on Friday b/c they think he is small and something about the placenta not functioning to capacity... hoping he'll decide to move out in the next few days b/c don't want to be induced.  Would rather let him come out on his own, but apparently he doesn't feel the need! Wondering how small or not he'll be - doesn't feel small as I carry him around at all.  Evan was only 6lb2oz, pretty small, and he was healthy.  Well, guess even if he decides not to go on his own, I know by the end of the week I'll have a new baby boy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-116776318970480599?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/116776318970480599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=116776318970480599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116776318970480599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116776318970480599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2007/01/waiting-and-waiting_116776318970480599.html' title='Waiting and waiting'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-116595398982707361</id><published>2006-12-12T14:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T15:06:29.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Irritability</title><content type='html'>This is the only word to describe me right now.  Last week the dr. told me that she thought the baby was measuring small , so of course I got all freaked out, and had to go for an ultrasound, and he was almost 5lbs.  I don't think that seems all that small, since Evan was only 6lbs2oz, but I am not a dr.  Then they did that glorious thing called an 'internal' and found me to be dialating already.  So, i was ordered to go home and do nothing for a week or so, until my next appointment, b/c it was a little too soon for him to come out yet.  It is now 6 days later, and my appointment isn't until FRIDAY.  I am SICK of being home, not being able to CLEAN, or go to work, or do anything.  Yes, it is sickness, probably.  Everyone I have spoken to said I am crazy, b/c if their dr. told them to go home and do nothing but lay around and eat, they would be happy.  But, they do not realize that if I am not doing it, it is not getting done, OR, it is getting done, but not to my specifications - not to get all OCD on everyone, but there are certain ways to clean, and certain ways NOT to clean.  And there are things that apparently males do not see that need to be done, which women seem to have overly sensitive powers to notice.  And so that is where I am at.  And if I can just wait until next week when I'll be considered full term, I can scrub and wash and fold and organize to my hearts content.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-116595398982707361?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/116595398982707361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=116595398982707361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116595398982707361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116595398982707361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/12/irritability.html' title='Irritability'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-116405833958173480</id><published>2006-11-20T16:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T16:32:19.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter</title><content type='html'>Dear Son who presently resides in my uterus,&lt;br /&gt;It has been quite a long time since I lived in a uterus, and in fact I cannot remember what it was like.  I can assume that it must be a bit cramped in there.  However, at this time I would respectfully request that you quit taking your foot, elbow, hand, knee and any other limb and jamming them into my side so that I feel like you are going to poke right out of my skin.  I am sure you are anxious to get out so that you can stretch unlimitedly, but we have about a 5-6 week window to work with here so don't get too excited just yet.  Thanks in advance.  Love, Mommy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-116405833958173480?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/116405833958173480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=116405833958173480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116405833958173480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116405833958173480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/11/letter.html' title='Letter'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-116388405103286614</id><published>2006-11-18T16:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-18T16:07:31.053-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate the mall</title><content type='html'>First of all, I realize Thanksgiving is coming up soon here, but really, it's not Christmas yet! I went to the mall twice this week because somehow I really actually needed to go two times for various things.  Early in the week I was astounded to see Santa and the Choo Choo and the decor already up.  I mean, it's November.  I don't remember crap being up this early ever, maybe I am wrong.  Or crabby.  Or wrong, crabby and pregnant.  Today the mall was hell on earth.  I forgot how much I hate holiday shopping.  Crowded &amp; hot, with rude people pushing their way around you.  It does nothing for the cause when you are trying to manuever you big belly through the chaos along with a 3 year old .   Then we stop to eat, and some kid behind us not only pukes all over, there is not a mall employee in sight to clean it up. Nor another table open anywhere, so we are forced to sit there trying to eat while smelling puke.  Not a fun place to be.  I don't care if they are having a 10 for 1 sale on anything at the mall...I'm doing the rest of my shopping online.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-116388405103286614?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/116388405103286614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=116388405103286614' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116388405103286614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116388405103286614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-hate-mall.html' title='I hate the mall'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-116320179653602389</id><published>2006-11-10T18:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-10T18:36:36.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It doesn't look as big as it feels...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2941/1954/1600/100_0747.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2941/1954/320/100_0747.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a big house, and then I look at this picture and it just doesn't make sense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-116320179653602389?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/116320179653602389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=116320179653602389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116320179653602389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116320179653602389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/11/it-doesnt-look-as-big-as-it-feels.html' title='It doesn&apos;t look as big as it feels...'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-116283600814740054</id><published>2006-11-06T12:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-06T13:00:08.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lazy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2941/1954/1600/EL%20EVbytree1c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2941/1954/200/EL%20EVbytree1c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been in a rut lately.  A big pregnancy rut. Oh sure, I work, I grocery shop, I clean, I take care of Evan.  But any free time? Well, that is consumed by mostly laying around and eating.  I have no idea if this is true for most people who have been pregnant more than once, but I have an awful achey sensation in my loins (I never realized where my loins were until now) that almost prohibits me from lifting my legs even 1 cm by the end of the day.  The doctor said it's due to ligament stretching.  Well, it sucks.  I am not one to whine, but it has put a big damper on my plans to run right through this pregnancy and not really slow down my pace.  And it seems to be the worst at about 3 am when i'm waking up to trudge down the hall for the middle of the night bathroom visit.  Anyway, 9 weeks to go if he decides to come on time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-116283600814740054?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/116283600814740054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=116283600814740054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116283600814740054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116283600814740054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/11/lazy.html' title='Lazy'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-116057533384041675</id><published>2006-10-11T08:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T09:06:08.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Duh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2941/1954/1600/100_0630.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2941/1954/320/100_0630.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For like 3 weeks I have not been able to log on to my Blogger account and type anything, b/c every time I put in my username it would bring up a different blog.  This was quite frustrating, until today, when i realized that I was entering the wrong user name.  Huh.  I have been quite stupid the last few days.  I blame it on the expansion of my stomach, coupled with the enormous amounts of food I've been consuming for the last 2 weeks or so. Evan has been going to preschool now for a month and a half and loves it - too cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-116057533384041675?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/116057533384041675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=116057533384041675' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116057533384041675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/116057533384041675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/10/duh.html' title='Duh!'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-115800549379270130</id><published>2006-09-11T15:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T15:11:33.823-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Too much</title><content type='html'>Life is well, life is fucking confusing.  I am at a very unsettling time in my life right now, namely - 6 mos pregnant and recently separated.  Without getting into assorted details of my marriage, it boils down to: staying out and drinking with working buddies vs. coming home on time (frequently) AND purchase of a Harley Davidson motorcycle wilst wife is 5 mos pregnant, mentioned that if said bike was purchased, you were "as good as single", in middle of trying to purchase a house.  Rode home on motorcycle the next day. Following day after that..wife gets up in morning, packs up her and son's belongings and trucks her growing belly to her Mom's to figure out what the fuck.  Finally I have gotten my own place and am now in the hell called "figuring it all out".  Family hatred of me aside, I think this is the right decision.  I think he needs to figure out if he wants to live life as a bachelor or as a married man, with a wife who actually expects him to act like a husband and father, not a happy go lucky, free for all bachelor who does whatever he pleases.  In the same frame, nobody seems to understand that this isn't "IT" as in the "final" decision.  Things can change, and I pray to God they will change.  There is nothing more that I did NOT want then to have to do this to my son, or my new son on the way.  But sometimes you gotta stand up for what you think is right and call what you think is bullshit.  On top of that there are big changes going on at work that really have me wondering if I will retain my job or not...and I think I'm supposed to keep my wits about me during this time, but you know what, sometimes that is really fucking hard.. Especially with pregnancy hormones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-115800549379270130?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/115800549379270130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=115800549379270130' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/115800549379270130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/115800549379270130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/09/too-much.html' title='Too much'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-115594796825278815</id><published>2006-08-18T19:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-18T19:39:28.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's another boy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2941/1954/1600/img002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2941/1954/320/img002.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, all this time, figuring that I was so sick , which was different from my pregnancy with Evan, I for SURE thought I was having a girl.  My mom thought I was having a girl, my sister, Justin, pretty much everyone except for maybe two people thought girl. As soon as I started feeling movement, and it wasn't little flutters, it was pretty strong right from the beginning, I just figured it was a very feisty girl.  Boy, were we all wrong!  There is no doubt about it, as he was even grabbing himself during the ultrasound. Which is SUCH a boy thing...and it starts even earlier than I had realized.  It's always so reassuring to see the movement and little hands and feet, only this time I had the 3D which was new to me.  Wow, that is an amazing thing.  And the technician said he's about 9 oz now, which is also quite amazing, seeing everything has developed - eyes, nose, mouth, ears, feet, toes, hands, heart, kidneys.. and only 9 oz.  Other than that news, everything has been a little busy here.. I am in crazy pregnancy "I want everything done, NOW" and have picked out paint for 3 rooms,still have to pick a kitchen color and then I think I'll leave the rest the color they are now.. 1 is done, carpet has been ripped up, in the process of refinishing wood floor in Evan's room, which will be the baby's room after I move Evan upstairs with his big brother.  I'm not ready for this move yet, I hope I will be before January.  I am not sure if he is ready for it yet either.  Evan got the chicken pox this week from a girl at his sitters, he's not too bad because he  had the vaccine but he's still miserable.  He starts preschool in a week in a half - the stepkids start next week.  Soon it will be fall and before you know it, winter and I'll be ready to pop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-115594796825278815?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/115594796825278815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=115594796825278815' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/115594796825278815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/115594796825278815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/08/its-another-boy_18.html' title='It&apos;s another boy!'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-115057962367836761</id><published>2006-06-17T16:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T16:27:03.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Curse you, all day sickness..</title><content type='html'>I am trying to post just something, anything, so that I can remember this time about three years from now, when I most likely will say, "oh, I don't remember being that sick with either pregnancy".  I throw up daily.  It is not fun.  I did not throw up when I was pregnant with Evan , save for 2 - yes, only 2 times.  And, that was only once during early pregnancy, the later being from the flu in my 8th month.  This is not fun, to be sure. I can be fine one minute, like the other night whilst laying in bed talking to Justin, and then then next minute, before he even knows what is going on, I am sprinting out of bed running for the bathroom.  So far though, I haven't had any publicly embarassing urps... like at the grocery store, or at a red light.  I was fighting it last week on the way home from work, but I did make it home.  However, sweet relief should be right around the corner,  2 weeks away from that glorious 4th month.  With any luck, the next two pukey weeks should fly right by.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-115057962367836761?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/115057962367836761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=115057962367836761' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/115057962367836761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/115057962367836761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/06/curse-you-all-day-sickness.html' title='Curse you, all day sickness..'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114839539020816395</id><published>2006-05-23T09:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T09:47:15.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exhaustion...</title><content type='html'>You know, I think God has this neat little trick.. It goes something like  - he clears out your memories of all the crappy things about pregnancy like nausea, extreme fatigue, anxiety, pain, etc... He has to do this, or you will never procreate after that 1st one.  I am so tired, I could, at most any time of the day, lay my head down on anything.. desk, table, brick, and fall fast asleep.  However, I can't do that because I have to work when I'm at work, and when I'm at home, I have a rambunctious 3 year old that doesn't understand the words "relax" "take a break" "mommy just needs two minutes to lay here".  I am complaining, yes, but of course I am excited still.  And even more excited for the 2nd trimester, when, if memory serves me correctly (which it probably does not) I will again feel like my normal, spastic self with energy to clean the floors and wash the 10 sinkfuls of dishes every stinking day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114839539020816395?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114839539020816395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114839539020816395' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114839539020816395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114839539020816395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/05/exhaustion.html' title='Exhaustion...'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114761832127020303</id><published>2006-05-14T09:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T09:52:01.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mothers Day!</title><content type='html'>Well, interesting news over here. Just in time for Mothers Day. Last Friday for Cinco de Mayo, I went to a party at my sister's friends house, who is also the person who watches Evan two days a week for me.  In the middle of the party she turns to me and says, "someone in this house tonight is pregnant, and I think it's you". I laugh it off, and tell her, yeah I have the sore boobs but it's only because my period is on it's way.  So, Sunday morning my sister calls and tells me, "kathy is obsessing about you being pregnant. " I tell her, well, I really don't think so... but, if it'll make you both happy, I'll take a test, just to put this all to rest.  Ok. So, she tells me that she is going to call Kathy and tell her (as a joke) that I was really sick and thought I had food poisoning and that I went to the hospital and they told me that : 1.) i was pregnant and 2.) that i was having twins, b/c the pregnancy hormone was so high that I must be having twins.  Ha ha ha.  So, soon as I get off the phone with her I take the test. Before I can even look at it the phone rings and it's kathy congratulating me on my 'twins'. No sooner does she speak that I look at the stick and low and behold there are TWO LINES.  I tell her quickly, wait, wait kathy it was a joke but now i am really not joking and I am looking at the stick and i AM! So we decide to 3 way call my sister and of course she doesn't believe us and thinks we are playing a joke on her now.  I had to take a picture of the stick and send it to her for proof.  Well, I was pretty surprised and as a matter of fact still surprised, and since I am such a worrier I am worrying like crazy now, but hopefully everything will be ok and I will soon be on my way to gaining the 50+ lbs that I did with Evan.  Course if I am calculating it right: My stepson's birthday is in November, mine and my stepdaughters birthdays are in December, the new baby will be in January and then Evan's is in February.  Parties 4 months in a row....for the rest of my life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114761832127020303?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114761832127020303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114761832127020303' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114761832127020303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114761832127020303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/05/happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mothers Day!'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114618802148142390</id><published>2006-04-27T20:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T20:33:41.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All kinds of assorted crap</title><content type='html'>After the puke fest of Evan, I had my own.  ONLY, mine started the night before EASTER and proceeded to persist the whole darn day.  Easter was mostly ruined, and it was all my fault.  Well, all the stomach virus that engulfed me and made me violently ill all day's fault.  I had shopped, I had cleaned, I had cooked, I had baked and for what? To have a shitty, puke filled day of blah.  I couldn't even get excited for the Easter egg hunt that I had purchased 60+ eggs for.  I couldn't hide the eggs, I barely stumbled on the back steps to watch it, as I sat there hugging my knees to my chest because my stomach felt like it was turning inside out.  What the hell. Come monday, back to work and I swear it took me all week before I even felt like eating anything other than noodles and broth.  So, that was that. I remember getting sick on Christmas, every Christmas, for years when I was little.  Driving home on Christmas Eve from grandma's house, trying to sleep after I wretched my guts out at her house, while everyone was hoping I would get better so I could enjoy the things they bought me, or at least be minimally excited by the festivities.  I remember walking downstairs in my house the year my mom got me a new bike, looking at it, and going back upstairs to lay down.  I do not think it was a coincidence.  I think I got overly excited and made myself sick, not on purpose, but because I didn't know any better.  I now know better, and still, evil stomach bug - you come creeping around and there I was again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114618802148142390?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114618802148142390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114618802148142390' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114618802148142390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114618802148142390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/04/all-kinds-of-assorted-crap.html' title='All kinds of assorted crap'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114487665892433682</id><published>2006-04-12T16:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T16:17:38.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A messy day</title><content type='html'>I am just in a funk this week.  Well, really, for a couple of weeks.  I keep thinking its the weather, and then it gets nicer out and I still have no energy.  Saturday my stepdaughter got a 103 degree fever, and was sick all day sunday as well. I stayed home with her Monday, and by the end of the day she was feeling a little better, and at least, her fever had come down.  Monday night I was awoken by my son at 2:30am, who was standing at the end of my bed saying "Mommy? Mommy" when I sat up in bed, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;smelled&lt;/span&gt; him.  There is no doubt when you smell puke that you are smelling puke.  I was hoping against hope that is NOT what I was smelling, but alas, after I turned on the light, there was puke, on him, his pj's, etc.  Put him into the tub, cleaned him up and put him on the couch with a lot of towels - just in case.  Proceeded to clean up the puke filled bed, blankets, etc.  Was asked by my husband why I was doing laundry in the middle of the night.  Explained the situation.  Approx. 10 minutes later was asked again by husband what I was doing and why I wasn't in bed.  Again explained situation.  Stayed up all night with poor little guy who threw up God only knows how many more times from 2:30 til 7:15 when he finally dozed off.  At 5:30 said husband woke up for work and wanted to know why I had not made him coffee since I was up anyway.  Aghrrrrr.  So, baby falls asleep at 7:15 and had to wake him at 7:45 to take the stepkids to school.  Packed with towels, we are on our way.  Thought everything was fine until on the way back when I had to pull over the car b/c the poor kid was throwing up again.   Finally after I went through all the towels in the linen closet and the ones that I had washed the night before, he fell asleep and when he awoke, thankfully, it was gone.  And he wanted chocolate milk.  And husband, upon getting home from work and looking at me, asked me two things:  why do you look so tired? AND what's for dinner?  Pfffft!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114487665892433682?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114487665892433682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114487665892433682' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114487665892433682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114487665892433682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/04/messy-day.html' title='A messy day'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114425227791404321</id><published>2006-04-05T10:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T10:51:17.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go visit Miss Jay...</title><content type='html'>At my house, even when it is cold outside, my husband has no problems hanging out his balls for all to see (see post from March 27th).  Not all are so freely able to let their junk out.. to help out Miss Jay, please visit www.saintvodkaofthemartini.blogspot.com/2006/04/international-ball-dropping-day.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114425227791404321?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114425227791404321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114425227791404321' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114425227791404321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114425227791404321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/04/go-visit-miss-jay.html' title='Go visit Miss Jay...'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114420289838008769</id><published>2006-04-04T21:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T21:08:18.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When you have a husband like mine...</title><content type='html'>Justin called me today at work to tell me he was in the newspaper. If you have read this blog at all, you can appreciate that I was nervous as to &lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; he was in the paper. Did he moon someone else? Cut up another couch with a circular saw? Go drinking with his buddies and ??? But no, thankfully it was just that the newspaper apparently took some pictures of him on the job. He was very excited because he has a very demanding, difficult and frequently dangerous job, and was glad he got a little recognition. And, of course, I am proud of him and thought I'd post the pic on here. I should really get my ass in gear and post some pictures of some other jobs he's been on that are really cool. But, you know, I have enough problems finding time to post at all, let alone search through pictures, scan them in, and post them and a story.. sheesh! what a lot of work THAT would be. Plus, this is MY blog for my assorted stories. Maybe he should start up his own blog- {that didn't sound too selfish, did it?}&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114420289838008769?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114420289838008769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114420289838008769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114420289838008769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114420289838008769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/04/when-you-have-husband-like-mine.html' title='When you have a husband like mine...'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114420232305429923</id><published>2006-04-04T20:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T20:58:43.100-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/Justin%20ABJ%20pic%201.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/Justin%20ABJ%20pic%201.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's my man!&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114420232305429923?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114420232305429923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114420232305429923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114420232305429923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114420232305429923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/04/theres-my-man.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114350525029563857</id><published>2006-03-27T19:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T19:25:23.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Front porch episode...</title><content type='html'>Well, went out with my friend Jo on Friday night. Girls night out... whoo hoo!! We had a blast, it helped, I think, that she had 4 martinis prior to meeting me. A good friend of hers that I had never met, came to the bar to meet us a little while into the night. An hour or so after she got there, and after Jo's 3 more martinis, we decided to go somewhere else. Now, we decided to take only one car, and so we dropped off one at my house. This is where it gets interesting. We pull into the driveway, this girl that I had only met a few hours ago parks her car in my driveway. At that point, my husband comes out to ? "greet" us. Not seeing that there was a complete stranger in our driveway, he decides to moon us- and I don't mean a funny little, top of ass crack moon, I mean, a full on, pants at least down to his knees if not further, bending over as if for a rectal exam - FULL moon. This is &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; something a guy, under any circumstances, should do. If only I had a picture. The poor girl probably wanted to run back into her car and drive far, far away. Of course, he thought this was just about the funniest thing he had ever done. Quickly, we left. There was quite a bit of silence in the car, until Jo said, "what the FUCK was that?" I had no explanation. I mean, really, what could I say? It was rather funny the next day though, when I asked him if he remembered the girl in the driveway - which of course, he didn't. Turns out he went to high school with her. Now, that's pretty funny stuff. I also asked him when the next time he is going out, and bringing all his buddies to our house. Somehow, I don't think my bending butt ass naked over the porch railing will be quite as funny to him. But, fair is fair, right??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114350525029563857?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114350525029563857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114350525029563857' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114350525029563857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114350525029563857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/03/front-porch-episode.html' title='Front porch episode...'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114256598740942256</id><published>2006-03-16T22:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T10:18:47.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>B.S.</title><content type='html'>I can't believe it's been 10 days since my last post - where the hell did that 10 days go? Busy as usual - today was a good day, went to court to watch a guy get sentenced for stealing a house. Don't know if anyone saw this story on the news - a guy lives in New York city, his parents live here in Shaker Heights. The parents are in ill health, the son comes in and moves them into assisted living. The father passes away, and the mother gets dementia. They move her to the Alzhemier's section of the home, and then she passes away. The son flies in from NYC with his family to bury his mother, drives by his parents home - and catches a full blown Christmas Party going on there - with people living in his parent's house that he doesn't know! It took years to unravel this all - and when it was all said and done, the house had been trashed, the guy who took over the house had an ESTATE sale and sold all of the parents belongings right out from underneath their son. It was a lot of work, a lot of research, and at least some small bit of satisfaction for me today watching the guy in court, and the judge sentencing him to a prison term of 4years 11 mos. Course, doesn't bring back the son's memories of his childhood years being destroyed or stolen. The jackass guy stands up in court today and says he had a drug problem and that's why he did it - I am so sick over people playing the drug card as an excuse - i mean, just like that Joseph Smith that killed that little girl in Florida - he said, oh I was high and I didn't know what I was doing, and I was depressed because my wife said she was leaving me - So, you go and kill a little girl? I mean, come on! What the fuck is that? Same with this guy - he said, oh my judgment was clouded b/c of the drugs - so clouded he managed to forge all kind of documents, transfer a $300,000 house into his name, put a renter in there, collect HUD money from the gov't, take out a mortgage on the place, hide money, etc. etc. - if that's how smart he is on drugs, I'd hate to see what he could do without them. &amp;#@@*&amp;amp;#$)(@#*!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114256598740942256?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114256598740942256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114256598740942256' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114256598740942256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114256598740942256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/03/bs.html' title='B.S.'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114135080413438213</id><published>2006-03-02T20:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-02T20:54:12.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiddisms</title><content type='html'>Anyone who has read this blog, or ever spoken with me, knows the 'fach' story. So I won't go into that one, and if you haven't heard it, or read it, it's somewhere in this blog. It was Evan's birthday recently, and as he is only into Thomas the Train, he got many trains for his birthday - two of which are named Fergus and Butch. Not to him though, well, to him they are still Fergus and Butch, only when he names them, it comes out sounding like Fuckit and Bitch. I was having quite a fun time last night, asking him, over and over, "and who are these two again?" "Fuckit and Bitch". Wait, who? "fuckit, bitch". Too funny, and it reminded me of my niece, and how kids just don't know what they are saying sometimes. My niece was in kindergarten, and she was named Citizen of the Month - or something else equally important. As part of her 'citizenship' she got to have my sister come to class with her, and she got to stand up in front of the whole class and talk about herself and show pictures. The day before there happened to be a birthday party for my nephew, who had been living with my sister and my brother in law for only about 6 months, as they had adopted him. As part of trying to help him feel more comfortable, they invited his foster siblings. So, while the party was going on, my niece was playing with my nephew and his foster siblings. So, the next day in class, she has her photo album out. She is talking about everyone in the pictures, ie: this is my mom, this is my dad, and on and on. She gets to a picture with my nephew and his foster siblings - oh, this is my brother, and there's those &lt;em&gt;fuckers.&lt;/em&gt; My sister, completed aghast, says "WHAT?" to which my niece sweetly replies, "here's my brother, and here's those fuckers." My sister was mortified and said she probably would have dropped dead on the spot right there, only my niece went on talking as if nothing happened. After apologizing to the teacher profusely, she asked my niece where she learned that word. Apparently, the foster kids used it frequently and as if they were calling one another something completely innocent, and my niece had no idea that it wasn't a word you use , you know, in place of, 'guys' or 'dudes'. I guess the teacher was very understanding, but it is now 6 years later, and we still have a good laugh over that one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114135080413438213?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114135080413438213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114135080413438213' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114135080413438213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114135080413438213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/03/kiddisms.html' title='Kiddisms'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114118099906322883</id><published>2006-02-28T21:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T21:43:19.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You have got to try this...</title><content type='html'>There's a website called myheritage.com, you can upload pictures of yourself and anyone in your family. Then they do some "face recognition" and tell you what celebrity you  most resemble.  It does NOT turn out the way you think it would... for example&lt;br /&gt;1. Evan supposedly looks like Eleanor Roosevelt! haa haa&lt;br /&gt;2. I supposedly look like Debra Winger and some Japanese chick&lt;br /&gt;And, the best, I saved for last...&lt;br /&gt;3. Justin looks like a cross between Tony Danza and Whitney Houston!! OHHH harr I was laughing so hard, especially that he is not black, or italian, or looks like anything other a blonde haired, blue eyed Irish boy.  Sooo funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114118099906322883?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114118099906322883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114118099906322883' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114118099906322883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114118099906322883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/you-have-got-to-try-this.html' title='You have got to try this...'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114048760410834242</id><published>2006-02-20T20:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T21:06:44.130-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty training sucks</title><content type='html'>As you can see, Evan is taking the potty training quite seriously.  He has fashioned himself a necklace out of the seat.  I have done so much laundry upon undertaking this endevor, that the washing machine is tired.  I don't know what else to do, other than bribe him, make a huge deal when he actually uses the seat as it was intended, tell him how big that means he is, have long conversations while I sit on a stool next to him in the bathroom about how everyone goes on the potty, read many Thomas the Train books while he sits there, and then have more conversations about how even THOMAS uses the potty.  Of course, thomas is a train and all but I mean, if it works, who cares at this point? I never thought I'd be soooo inclined to worry over someone else's bathroom habits.  It's just not something you talk about that much. But not only do we talk about it, when there is success, we have to call everyone we know just to tell them the great news! &lt;br /&gt;~ phone rings~&lt;br /&gt;hello?&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, how you doing?&lt;br /&gt;ok.&lt;br /&gt;Well, we just had to call to say that Evan just went poop on the potty.&lt;br /&gt;Yeahh!!&lt;br /&gt;And then whoever it is that we call (mostly grandparents, my friends with no kids don't fully understand the important nature of these types of calls) have to make a big deal.&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for grandparents!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114048760410834242?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114048760410834242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114048760410834242' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114048760410834242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114048760410834242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/potty-training-sucks.html' title='Potty training sucks'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-114048694858577312</id><published>2006-02-20T20:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T20:55:50.020-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0283.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0283.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, it's not a necklace?&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-114048694858577312?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/114048694858577312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=114048694858577312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114048694858577312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/114048694858577312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/wait-its-not-necklace.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113951667084700979</id><published>2006-02-09T15:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T15:24:30.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0272.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0272.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chocolate facial part one&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113951667084700979?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113951667084700979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113951667084700979' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951667084700979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951667084700979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/chocolate-facial-part-one.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113951691300373334</id><published>2006-02-09T15:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T16:18:11.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>God should have made moms with the capacity to not go to the bathroom for at least 10 hours</title><content type='html'>Everytime I have to take, uhh, a little time for myself in the bathroom we have an episode. Or, well it might not be every time, but it seems like it. Nothing compares to the time, of course, that I used to watch Brianna. Upon setting up her and Evan with a movie and figuring all was fine for the few minutes I needed, I came out to find that they had gone into the cupboard, pulled out the Nestle quick mix, somehow figured how to get the lid off the thing, and dumped it all over the living room floor *thank God for wood floors*. Then proceeded to walk in it, spread it all over their faces, arms, feet, hands... etc. I don't even think they were two years old at that time. That was a fun one. Especially when i was trying to bathe them both and clean the floor at the same time. Apparently, Evan has not outgrown his love for chocolate, or his love to smear, draw and find things to get into every time I need to use the facilities. I guess from now on, or at least until he's 21, i should just go with the door open.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113951691300373334?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113951691300373334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113951691300373334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951691300373334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951691300373334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/god-should-have-made-moms-with.html' title='God should have made moms with the capacity to not go to the bathroom for at least 10 hours'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113951659359456256</id><published>2006-02-09T15:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T15:23:13.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0268.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0268.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;left alone for one second...&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113951659359456256?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113951659359456256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113951659359456256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951659359456256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951659359456256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/left-alone-for-one-second.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113951653345975559</id><published>2006-02-09T15:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T15:22:13.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0273.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0273.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;chocolate facial part 2&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113951653345975559?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113951653345975559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113951653345975559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951653345975559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951653345975559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/chocolate-facial-part-2.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113951647362858384</id><published>2006-02-09T15:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T15:21:13.633-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0264.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0264.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;relaxing?&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113951647362858384?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113951647362858384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113951647362858384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951647362858384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113951647362858384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/relaxing.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113926779135555644</id><published>2006-02-06T18:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T18:16:31.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday murmuring..</title><content type='html'>Is murmuring even a word?&lt;br /&gt;Baileys and milk is good, but Bailey's with no milk is not so good, however, i will drink it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;We are entering week 3 of Justin being laid off. I do not do so well when he is laid off... I panic about when he will be working again and fret over money. i do these things just the same when he is working, except I replace the wonder when he will work again with worrying about him getting hurt on the job. Another ironworker he knew fell on the job a week or so ago, and this one died. good news is that last week, Timmy came over - he drove himself over (hooray!) and can walk with the assistance of two canes. I was so happy to see him in our living room. For those of you who may read this by chance and not know who Timmy is, he is Justin's work partner who fell 42 feet off a building they were working on last July, and was in the hospital forever it seemed. It was just so good to see him out of the hospital, and able to walk and drive.&lt;br /&gt;On another note, make sure you go and visit Kim's blog: &lt;a href="http://www.my10kidfamily.blogspot.com"&gt;www.my10kidfamily.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;, it is hilarious! Note two especially funny stories in the archives - Dr. Dick in from Feb. 05, which i made me laugh so hard I cried, and UPS from the same month. And since she is going on a tropical Hawaiian vacation, i will be guest blogging for her on the 15th. I am nervous, as I am sure I will not be able to compare to her insightful and downright hysterical posts. Ahh, but I am looking forward to seeing what all the other guest bloggers come up with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113926779135555644?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113926779135555644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113926779135555644' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113926779135555644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113926779135555644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/02/monday-murmuring.html' title='Monday murmuring..'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113872963365199890</id><published>2006-01-31T12:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T12:47:19.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sickos</title><content type='html'>I got home yesterday to find:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Justin laying in bed, shivering with aches and miserable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) Evan, upon waking up from his nap, stuffy and with a developing case of pink eye ( i think)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) An hour or two later, Kyle telling me he didn't feel well. About 20 minutes after that, he was hurling into a bucket - for half the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i want to run away from home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113872963365199890?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113872963365199890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113872963365199890' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113872963365199890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113872963365199890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/01/sickos.html' title='Sickos'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113763829028580346</id><published>2006-01-18T21:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T21:38:10.300-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter Blahhhs</title><content type='html'>Hello everyone.  I cannot believe it's been so long since I last posted on here. Course, nobody ever leaves me comments so I don't know if you guys read this or not! To bring everyone up to speed, Carrie and Steve got a new car, Jenny and Scott got a new truck and a new dog named Shelby, and Grandma Bruder called the other day to say they are coming up in Feb. to visit.  Evan is missing Brianna and Saleen and is looking at pictures of them frequently.  I am prepping him for his birthday that is coming up, and he keeps telling me he wants to sit in Santa's lap.  Apparently, a bit o' confusion with the whole Birthday/Christmas, people bring me presents thing.  It is cold here, it wasn't too bad but today back to winter, which really sucked b/c i had to go downtown this morning and this evening and thought I would freeze or certainly get picked up by the wind and tossed into the air.  Hope everyone is doing well and I miss you guys!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113763829028580346?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113763829028580346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113763829028580346' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113763829028580346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113763829028580346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/01/winter-blahhhs.html' title='Winter Blahhhs'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113634415481494912</id><published>2006-01-03T22:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T22:09:14.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0224.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0224.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fine lookin piece of furniture&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113634415481494912?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113634415481494912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113634415481494912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113634415481494912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113634415481494912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/01/fine-lookin-piece-of-furniture.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113634378151843047</id><published>2006-01-03T21:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T22:03:03.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry &amp;*(@$#ing Christmas!</title><content type='html'>Picture it, and those of you who know Justin, can totally picture this. It's Christmas Eve, I have been asking Justin all week to help me remove the old couch from the living room. You know, the ugly one(s) I can't stand that got picked out by Ed, oh, 8+ years ago when he and I were engaged. OK. So, we get an old couch from Jo's neighbor. It's used, yes, but it is, and get this - ONE solid color. Not 15 different colors all splashed around to look 'cool'. And get this, Jenny, you will especially appreciate this - the cushions have velcro on the new one, so that they don't always keep popping off. Great, so, we get this other couch and for a week I have been asking Justin to help me move the old one, since I cannot and will not have 3 couches in the living room. So, here we are on Christmas Eve. I have been asking all day, please help me with this. Finally, the time comes. Now, aside from being ugly, the damn thing is a behemoth. Huge and cumbersome and heavy. So, we try to push it out the door. It doesn't fit. (Oh, footnote here, there's like, 1/2 hour til the Browns are on...I am really pushing my luck here, apparently, but I didn't even know that yet) ... Upon twisting, turning and pushing some more, it still doesn't fit. Now I , knowing and seeing that it is currently IN our living room, figure, well gee, we got it in here, there must be a way to get it OUT of here. Not he. No, not my husband, he doesn't want to be bothered with couch duties today, it's freakin Christmas Eve day AND the browns are about to be on. Curse me for asking all WEEK for him to help, he has put it off till today, fully well knowing that I will NOT have everyone over for Christmas with 3 couches in my living room, but still, it is my fault, i suppose. Ahhem. Push it some more. Swearing now, he is cursing the couch and all that it stands for. We take off the front door. Off the hinges, laying it on the front porch. Still the couch will not fit. He is in a screaming madness now, yelling for all he is worth at the f'ing asshole couch and it's inability to fit through our door. I mean a full fledged FIT. Of Evan proportions. (ahh, the kids did not witness this whole event, thank God) I try to remain calm, never having seen someone get quite so upset an an inanimate object. After he almost breaks down the wall and the door frame, I yell at him to stop and let's think for a minute. He walks away, and I think, hmm, maybe that did the trick and he is coming up with some ingenious plan. Ingenious, my ass. He walks upstairs, still cursing the couch and I think myself by now, and he is carrying the &lt;em&gt;circular saw.&lt;/em&gt; I am now a little frightened. Oh, and he has the hammer in his other hand. We give it one last heave-ho, which of course only pisses him off further as the thing still doesn't move. So, while it is laying on it's front, he decides in true maniac fashion , to jump on the back of it, ripping as much material as he can in the process all the while screaming "you f'ing thing, muthafucker". I stare dumbly. I start to become a smart ass, which definitely does not make things better, by saying, now stop it, you have lost it, what is your problem, etc.. I go for a moment to the bathroom to collect my thoughts. Upon my return, he has taken the hammer and gone about beating it in strategic areas, to no avail. The damn thing is invincible. A few more "muthafuckers and asshole couches" later, the circular saw is plugged in and whizzing for it's life and he is going at the thing. I stand there, surveying the cloud of sawdust spewing around my living room, landing on all areas that I just had f'ing cleaned, with a good layer landing in places I cannot even reach. Upon completion, we get it out the door. He then proceeds to drag it to the.... TREELAWN! Nothing says "Merry Christmas, welcome to our home" quite like a mangled couch on your treelawn. I wait til he puts the circular saw away to tell him that by God, he might be crazy, but I want the damn thing at the &lt;em&gt;very least&lt;/em&gt;, moved to the back of the yard so that we may portray some small bit of normalcy upon the family's arrival the following morning. So, a week later, here sits the thing in the back yard. I'm thinking maybe we should display it on the front porch, so that we can be true hillbillies. Nothing says class like a busted up, cut up, 80's paint splattered couch on your front porch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113634378151843047?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113634378151843047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113634378151843047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113634378151843047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113634378151843047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/01/merry-ing-christmas.html' title='Merry &amp;*(@$#ing Christmas!'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113625815861516016</id><published>2006-01-02T22:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T22:15:58.620-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0180.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0180.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Brianna&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113625815861516016?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113625815861516016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113625815861516016' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113625815861516016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113625815861516016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/01/oh-brianna.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113625802383398829</id><published>2006-01-02T22:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T22:13:43.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year!</title><content type='html'>Happy New Year Jenny, Scott, Saleen, Carrie, Steve and Brianna. Oh and Jo, b/c I know you read this, even though you won't post a comment and show me some love dammit! And Carrie, no it doesn't cost money to sign up as a blogger.com user, so go ahead and sign up in your spare time, of which you will now have none of since you are starting school.  Here is one of my favorite pictures from Christmas, which I probably already sent you guys but hey, it's cute.  Talk about getting busted! When I asked her what she was eating, of course she said, 'nothing'.  I believe the poppy seeds spread all over her mouth speak the truth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113625802383398829?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113625802383398829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113625802383398829' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113625802383398829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113625802383398829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2006/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year!'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113573905499965690</id><published>2005-12-27T22:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T22:04:15.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0132.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0132.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What presents?&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113573905499965690?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113573905499965690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113573905499965690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113573905499965690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113573905499965690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/what-presents.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113573888686312903</id><published>2005-12-27T21:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T22:01:26.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The kid is not greedy...</title><content type='html'>Evan opened a few presents.  Then he got to his Thomas DVD.  He didn't want to open any more.  When I asked him if he wanted to open more, he told me no thanks!  So, here he sits with all his unopened presents.  He waited 4 more hours before he got the urge, when the kids finally got here. I bet that's not how it is going to be next year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113573888686312903?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113573888686312903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113573888686312903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113573888686312903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113573888686312903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/kid-is-not-greedy.html' title='The kid is not greedy...'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113487483555657375</id><published>2005-12-17T21:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-17T22:00:35.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa</title><content type='html'>Well, we took Evan to go see Santa yesterday.  My dumb ass has been telling him,&lt;br /&gt;"now, you have to tell Santa what you want so he brings it for you"&lt;br /&gt;It never dawned on me to explain how that works.  So, we wait in line, he's excited to see him.  We are standing there, it's almost our turn.  He turns to me and says, "mommy, don't wanna sit on santas wap" I said, ok, well, you have to sit on his lap so they can take your picture. So, we walk up to him, and no, he is not going to sit on some strange guys lap.  Santa offers me to sit on his lap. I decline. I sit to the side, placing Evan facing santa so that I can still get a picture, hopefully with me not in it.  They get the picture, everything is fine.  Until, that is, we get up to leave.  Evan says, " i want a thomas train"  I tell him, " no, honey, he doesn't give it to you now, he brings it to our house on Christmas"  This does not please him. He wants his Thomas train, and he wants it NOW.  I pull him away.  Justin is standing there waiting to pay for the picture.  he asks what's wrong.  I explain. In is infinite wisdom, he tells evan, "but you didn't even sit on his lap".  Well, now he wants to go back and sit on his lap, if that means he will then get his thomas train.  But, there are 100 other kids waiting, and we already had our turn.  So, this creates a lousy situation ripe for a tantrum.  Which he has one, a great one, I screaming, red-faced, embarass us, kicking and screaming tantrum.  I make Justin carry him through the mall.  I even slow up a little, let Justin walk ahead.  Gauge the people watching a man carrying a screaming 2 year old through the mall.  I even smile, as if I were thinking, "oh, that poor man, thank God &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; kids don't act that way".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113487483555657375?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113487483555657375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113487483555657375' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113487483555657375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113487483555657375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/santa.html' title='Santa'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113470466728343720</id><published>2005-12-15T22:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T22:44:27.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0105.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/200/100_0105.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chapstick episode&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113470466728343720?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113470466728343720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113470466728343720' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113470466728343720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113470466728343720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/chapstick-episode.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113470431123618447</id><published>2005-12-15T22:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T22:38:31.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Fach!</title><content type='html'>So, my mom has these chickens at her house.. Henny Penny and Little Guy.  Little Guy recently met his untimely demise.  At the time, my mom didn't know what got him, but it obviously got him good, b/c when she went out in the morning, there he lay.  Now, how do we explain this to Evan?  Well, we tell him little guy went to heaven.  This has been going on for weeks now, our conversations about little guy and how he went to heaven, and that's why we dont' see him anymore.  So, today i'm at the store, and Chef Boyardee is on sale.  My stepson loves this stuff. Could probably eat cans and cans of it a day if I let him. So I exclaim to Evan, " oh look, it's on sale! we can get a bunch! Kyle's gonna be in heaven!"  To which this little face looks up at me, with a sad look and says, "Mommy, Kyle DIED?"  I try to explain that it is only an expression... Many aisles later, I was still reasuring him that Kyle, indeed, is still alive.&lt;br /&gt;This is just one of many conversations that evolved from the chicken's death.  The other one being, that the last time Evan visited my mom, he came home and was talking to Kyle and Michaela and his dad in the car about Little Guy.  They get home, I had dinner ready.  We sit at the table. Evan starts talking about little guy.  I say, yes, it's very sad he died.&lt;br /&gt;He says, "mommy, little guy died.  Little guy sad.  Oh Fach."&lt;br /&gt;I start laughing (i know, the completely inappropriate thing to do when a kid swears, but my God if you would of heard the was he said it, it was so&lt;em&gt; damn&lt;/em&gt; funny.&lt;br /&gt;which makes him say, fach fach fach.&lt;br /&gt;I call my mom to tell her the story.  We have a good laugh.&lt;br /&gt;He is with her later that week.  They are driving and she see's a fox on the side of the road. &lt;br /&gt;"Hey Evan, look at the fox!"&lt;br /&gt;"yeah gra, i see it, i see dat fach"&lt;br /&gt;Mystery solved.  I wondered where he got such a word from.  &lt;em&gt;Certainly&lt;/em&gt; it's not said around this house!  I pick him up after that visit.  She had explained to me what happened.  He must have figured that the fox got the chicken. So, on the way home, he's chattering in the backseat. &lt;br /&gt;"oh mommy, dat fach, i see dat black fach that black fach is dick!"&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;Again he repeats.&lt;br /&gt;I'm laughing again.&lt;br /&gt;This time, I have figured out the fach aspect, but this new dick word is throwing me for a loop.&lt;br /&gt;"Black fach, Black FACH a DICK!&lt;br /&gt;I say, but grandma said you saw a RED fox?&lt;br /&gt;"No mommy, black fach, black fach a dick!"&lt;br /&gt;OK.&lt;br /&gt;Quick email to mom when I get home.&lt;br /&gt;She had forgotten to tell me , there was a black fox on her DECK.&lt;br /&gt;Another mystery solved, but no less funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113470431123618447?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113470431123618447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113470431123618447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113470431123618447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113470431123618447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/oh-fach.html' title='Oh Fach!'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113470344870453833</id><published>2005-12-15T22:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-15T22:24:08.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Never leave a 2 year old unattended....</title><content type='html'>Well, today I was making dinner - and, as part of making dinner, i had to de-skin (is that a word?) some chicken.  So, while I was standing at the sink doing this yucky task, it was oh so quiet in the living room.  I had put on a video for Evan, so I figured he was watching it.  I figured wrong.  He had taken his stool, pulled it over to the shelves and removed my purse.   I finished my task and walked into the living room.  There he stood with his finger in my chapstick.  And then he looked up at me , and well, the picture says it all.  Why he applied this to his eye area instead of his lips, is something i probably will never know...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113470344870453833?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113470344870453833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113470344870453833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113470344870453833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113470344870453833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/never-leave-2-year-old-unattended.html' title='Never leave a 2 year old unattended....'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113459453915437596</id><published>2005-12-14T16:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T16:23:41.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Again, why do I even try to understand my husband?</title><content type='html'>So, Hubby goes to visit an old friend yesterday afternoon.  I speak to him around 5, he at &lt;em&gt;no time&lt;/em&gt; mentions that he is not at home. Told me he got the night off from work, so he'll see me when I get there. OK. So, I have a few things to do but will be home in an hour or so. I get home, and he's not there. I wait, oh, an hour or two and call him. Oh, I am at my favorite watering hole. oh, and I let Jack take your car to go to his house, it's only right around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;You &lt;em&gt;WHAT?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oh, come on , it's no big deal.  He's fine.&lt;br /&gt;Ok, what time did he leave you?&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I dunno about 1-1/2 hours ago. &lt;br /&gt;HMMMMM.. freak out now or wait?&lt;br /&gt;I say, calmly, (i think it was calmly).. call his ass up right now and get my car back.&lt;br /&gt;He - well, i'll call him in a bit.&lt;br /&gt;I hang up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 hour later:&lt;br /&gt;Ring ring! &lt;br /&gt;Hello?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, DEAR, have you gotten my car back yet?&lt;br /&gt;uhh, no, but i called him.&lt;br /&gt;ahhh, ok.. did he answer?&lt;br /&gt;uhh, no, but, well..&lt;br /&gt;I SWEAR TO GOD, you better figure out what that hell..&lt;br /&gt;Ok, i'll start walking to his house.&lt;br /&gt;FINE.&lt;br /&gt;click.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, it's approx. 11 degrees outside.  I am so pissed. &lt;br /&gt;You see, we got a new car, a bigger car that I usually drive.&lt;br /&gt;He usually drives a truck.&lt;br /&gt;This car in this story however, used to be "my car" before we married.&lt;br /&gt;It is now for sale.&lt;br /&gt;Because we don't drive it, I forgot to mail in the regsitration to get tags on it.&lt;br /&gt;So, the car has expired tags.&lt;br /&gt;The friend had a suspended license. which i was told it wasn't suspended anymore, but well, ya know how the shit starts getting deep when they know they have screwed up.&lt;br /&gt;I am flaming pissed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is now 10:50p.m.  I have work tomorrow. I have a 2 year old that isn't in bed yet.  I AM PISSED.&lt;br /&gt;I pack up my son and I , and we drive to the dumbasses house.&lt;br /&gt;There sits my car - PHEW.&lt;br /&gt;I at least know that it is fine. Nobody is dead, arrested or otherwise, at least, the car is in one piece, and not impounded.&lt;br /&gt;But, alas, where can my husband be? He is not in the car, nor at the friends house. I drive, and no, he is not walking down the street.&lt;br /&gt;He is still at the bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skip this part, as I don't even remember what i said as it was now after 11 on a worknight, 2 year old in the backseat, freezin ass cold outside, i didn't want to have to leave the house in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to the car.  It is sitting in the driveway. the hilly driveway, the driveway covered in snow.&lt;br /&gt;and yes, of course it's stuck.&lt;br /&gt;and no, i am not driving and/or pushing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after 15 minutes of burning out my clutch , he still hasn't had the car move an inch from where it was in the first place. i make my point well known to him that he better go and get the dumb ass who took the car for 5 hours, drove it down his snow-infested driveway, and make him push it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quarter to 12 and I finally pull out of the driveway.  Of course, i have to pull over and let him go ahead of me since the whole freakin point is that the car has expired tags. Which he knew...b/c I told him earlier in the week that I didn't renew them yet....&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder to myself about the logical aspects of men's brains.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113459453915437596?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113459453915437596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113459453915437596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113459453915437596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113459453915437596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/again-why-do-i-even-try-to-understand.html' title='Again, why do I even try to understand my husband?'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113408057141982368</id><published>2005-12-08T17:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T17:22:51.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/640/100_0055.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0055.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113408057141982368?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113408057141982368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113408057141982368' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113408057141982368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113408057141982368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/me.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113408052619361958</id><published>2005-12-08T17:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T17:22:06.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/640/100_0056.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0056.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Family Christmas tree shopping&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113408052619361958?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113408052619361958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113408052619361958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113408052619361958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113408052619361958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/happy-family-christmas-tree-shopping.html' title=''/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19693484.post-113405801462120351</id><published>2005-12-08T10:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T11:06:54.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just another day</title><content type='html'>So, we go to get our Christmas tree last night.  My stepkids are with us, we planned this excursion just so that they could be a part of it.  I have been working like crazy all week, and this is the only night I have open.  We pack them in the car, along with our 2 year old.  Everyone is CRABBY.  I am pissed myself, as when I got home the house was a disaster, I'm tired from work, It is cold as hell outside and here we go in the family truckster to get a tree and NObody is happy about it.  The kids are in the backseat, hitting each other, and just generally annoying each other.  My husband is yelling at my stepson b/c progress reports came home and let me tell you - it was not good.  I just stared out the window thinking - merry christmas!  I had to start laughing, to which everyone in the car looked at me as if I were 1)drunk  2) crazy 3)both .&lt;br /&gt;When we finally got to the HUGE tree farm (which was advertised as the biggest selection in our county) we walked through the small lot of trees and found one.  Strapped in on top of the car, to which my husband grimmaced, although I don't know what else we were supposed to do, shove it in the back with the kids? We get the thing home, into the house, put it in the stand, everyone is standing there asking when we are gonna decorate it and... it falls over.  We put it back in the stand and... it falls over again.  I suppose i should look into an industrial strength tree stand, as it just doesn't seem to want to cooperate with the $40 one we bought last year.  Ahhh, the holidays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19693484-113405801462120351?l=crazymamasunite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/feeds/113405801462120351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19693484&amp;postID=113405801462120351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113405801462120351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19693484/posts/default/113405801462120351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://crazymamasunite.blogspot.com/2005/12/just-another-day.html' title='Just another day'/><author><name>Ellen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17075498155329495750</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='20' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/hello/170/8940/320/100_0389-2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
