<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273</id><updated>2010-01-01T22:28:36.604-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bits of Betsy</title><subtitle type='html'>Dancing with the feet is one thing, but dancing with the heart is yet another.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>272</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-1474310303903727772</id><published>2010-01-01T11:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T11:39:42.790-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year!</title><content type='html'>Wow - 2010 is here!  And so....here we come 2010!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a quiet day in my house, the snow is falling steady and lightly outside,  Dakotah is still sleeping, Paige is watching her Sesame Street New Year video for the 200th time, and I'm trying to be all reflective and contemplative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm contemplating resolutions, and wondering which ones I should make, which ones I should ignore, and which ones I might actually keep!   I'm not feeling ready to gear up for a brand new year just yet, so I think I'm going to wallow in this semi-holiday weekend, and commit only on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I have thought a lot about for the new year is where my blog is going.  Since joining facebook, I have sorely neglected blogging.    I have always maintained that I wanted my blog to be a sort of gift to my children - a chronicle of their daily lives, my thoughts as a Mom as I raised them, and a place where they would know the real me - free of the everyday stuff like laundry that never ends, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Dakotah gets older, I'm more cautious about what I post about her, as she has the right to pick and choose what stories I share,  no matter how cute or funny I think they are. :)  She is so quickly becoming a young woman, and not only my oldest daughter, but a wonderful friend as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think, especially as Moms, we hold so much history for our children - stories that are never remembered or repeated except by us.  Family histories, and just funny moments we hold on to of our kids that only we share.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its something I've always thought about - how so much of that goes with us, and unless we get it down, it gets forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of months ago, I stumbled about a great idea, called &lt;a href="http://www.debtproofliving.com/Articles/ViewArticle/tabid/179/smid/657/ArticleID/532102/Default.aspx"&gt;"Journal In A Jar"&lt;/a&gt; which is basically a series of questions that are posed to help you get started on writing down the important stuff.   I think this would be such a wonderful gift to give to someone - and then, in return, a wonderful gift to receive when it was all done - the chronicles of someone's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So,  because my blog means so much to me, and because I've slacked off on the every day musings of our life, I will be relying on some of these questions to keep my posts going.  Randomly, I'll post a question and then journal about it, in no particular order other than what catches my eye on that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope some of my friends and readers will find some inspiration and lead me to their blogs where they answer some of these same questions.  And who knows, some of you may find yourselves the subject of my day's post! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-1474310303903727772?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/1474310303903727772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=1474310303903727772' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/1474310303903727772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/1474310303903727772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-2457078887025984515</id><published>2009-12-27T13:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T13:53:07.892-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas!</title><content type='html'>It seems impossible that Christmas has come and gone already.  It was just yesterday that all the commotion in our house was celebrating Dakotah's 16th birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This year we were especially thankful for the health of our family.  This was the first Christmas in three years that Paige has not been in a full body cast, laid out on the floor on her back to open presents.  She is so close to walking again - but progress is slow, and she is unsure of herself, still afraid to take those first adventerous steps.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She is such a good kid - so good natured and easy going.  So many routines have been tipped upsidedown over the last few weeks, and she thrives on routine.  Still, she has handled it all like she always does - taking like as it comes, and smiling all the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Dakotah has enjoyed her holiday off - she is the typical teenager - crawling out of bed very late in the morning or even early afternoon.  Its always in the back of my head that there are just a couple of years left for her to be in our little nest, for our Christmas to be like it is, and not just her coming home from school, etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She is gearing up to exams and big semester projects due in the next couple of weeks.  She is enjoying that newly acquired driving licence - and wanting to drive everywhere, all the time.  With all the freezing rain we have had over the past few days,  she is quite bummed when we tell her no!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I hope all of my friends and family had wonderful holidays and created memories that will last a lifetime!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-2457078887025984515?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2457078887025984515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=2457078887025984515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/2457078887025984515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/2457078887025984515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-7593908406626069477</id><published>2009-10-21T03:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T03:21:56.241-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another party picture!</title><content type='html'>Dakotah even had tie dye jello shooters (non-alcoholic) at her party.  How fun are these?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/St62hqBfbLI/AAAAAAAAAns/uJhNTddebqI/s1600-h/jello.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/St62hqBfbLI/AAAAAAAAAns/uJhNTddebqI/s320/jello.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394950092968914098" 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/24008273-7593908406626069477?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/7593908406626069477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=7593908406626069477' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/7593908406626069477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/7593908406626069477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/10/another-party-picture.html' title='Another party picture!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/St62hqBfbLI/AAAAAAAAAns/uJhNTddebqI/s72-c/jello.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-9171513968464690463</id><published>2009-10-19T19:25:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T19:49:13.229-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You're 16 - You're Beautiful - And You're Mine!</title><content type='html'>Well, mine for a little while longer at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dakotah turned 16 on Saturday.  We ushered the night in 60's style, with retro clothes, lots of Beatles music, tie dye stuff,  and peace signs, baby.  Add in a dinner and dance, and a fun bartender for mocktails, and the night was fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope Dakotah remembers the night for years to come.  She wrote on her facebook page that night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 style="font-style: italic;" class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;“Life gives us brief momen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;ts with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt; an&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;other...but some&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;times in those brief moments we get me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;orie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;s that la&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;st a life time...”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;So true...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some pictures of her magical night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting ready for the night with her   friends Alex and Jess:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 style="font-style: italic;" class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz4kTMRJHI/AAAAAAAAAm8/AQebK-wiPSc/s1600-h/girls2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz4kTMRJHI/AAAAAAAAAm8/AQebK-wiPSc/s320/girls2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394459756193719410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;  &lt;h3 style="font-style: italic;" class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz4Ka-MtWI/AAAAAAAAAm0/0DwLmMZtFes/s1600-h/toyou.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz4Ka-MtWI/AAAAAAAAAm0/0DwLmMZtFes/s320/toyou.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394459311605593442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;    Here's to you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her friend, Nick, showing her  the picture he took of the "Imagine" memorial in NYC at Strawberry Fields.  Telling her the story of the guy who decorates there every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 style="font-style: italic;" class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz5G__CePI/AAAAAAAAAnE/FDLXJyk6jbA/s1600-h/aw.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz5G__CePI/AAAAAAAAAnE/FDLXJyk6jbA/s320/aw.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394460352333379826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;   My hippie girl and her buddy "EZ"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 style="font-style: italic;" class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz5upOiy8I/AAAAAAAAAnM/FitVBtB810k/s1600-h/ez.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz5upOiy8I/AAAAAAAAAnM/FitVBtB810k/s320/ez.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394461033419164610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opening the frame that has tickets to "Never Shout Never" in it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 style="font-style: italic;" class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz6N-R-wgI/AAAAAAAAAnU/56ZDrw0MQfU/s1600-h/nsn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz6N-R-wgI/AAAAAAAAAnU/56ZDrw0MQfU/s320/nsn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394461571646669314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;  Realizing she is going to a Never Shout Never Concert, and in her own words, "meeting my future husband, Christofer Drew"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 style="font-style: italic;" class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz6xujOBaI/AAAAAAAAAnk/oy7AvHLBPq4/s1600-h/wow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz6xujOBaI/AAAAAAAAAnk/oy7AvHLBPq4/s320/wow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394462185899296162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h3&gt; I love you, my sweet girl....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-9171513968464690463?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/9171513968464690463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=9171513968464690463' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/9171513968464690463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/9171513968464690463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/10/youre-16-youre-beautiful-and-youre-mine.html' title='You&apos;re 16 - You&apos;re Beautiful - And You&apos;re Mine!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Stz4kTMRJHI/AAAAAAAAAm8/AQebK-wiPSc/s72-c/girls2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-5122136913412998954</id><published>2009-09-09T23:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T23:33:35.289-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Upside down and 'round and 'round</title><content type='html'>What a crazy mixed up week it has been.  My entire neck, back, and spine feel like someone is shooting poison stress arrows at me on a minute-by-minute basis.  I'm surely getting old, which I guess isn't that bad of a thing to be doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls started school on Tuesday.  Dakotah has a pretty full course load, but she seemed ready to return and dig into the routine.   She has just two years left of high school, and even she seems a bit shocked by that - its going by as fast for her as it seems to be for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paige was more than thrilled to start back at school too - she loves it, loves being there, loves being with her friends, loves the routine.  Unfortunately, there have been some bumps for her start this year - we haven't figured out busing just yet, and I was more than shocked to arrive Tuesday after school to pick her up to discover that her aide had been cut to just a half day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was most upset because it was done without speaking to me, or even informing me, and even her teacher and the aide herself were surprised with the news on the very first day of school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She has an IEP in place, and I'm confident that it will be ironed out, as it seems to be mostly a scheduling blip made during the summer by the former principal, but it isn't solved yet, and I've got my hackles up about it - ready to make some noise if it doesn't change by week's end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, she is physically dependent for help with basic needs like walking and toileting, and its not even comprehensible that anyone would think she could go a half day every day without assistance in those areas.  Couple that with the fact that she is non-verbal, and needs someone to work with her academically during the day, and well, it is not only unacceptable that they do not carry out the IEP as outlined, it is illegal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to be calm and nice about it, but I'm also determined and quite ready to be assertive in any way that will bring the quickest result.   The nice way would be to schedule meetings and bring representatives in, etc,  but the fast way is probably to make some noise publicly - the whole squeaky wheel theory, you know.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we'll see how that goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My job has been really stressful lately too - my boss isn't sure of the direction of his company, and every day seems to bring a different "game plan" to the table.   Its difficult trying to follow rules and procedures when they change on a daily basis.  So, I don't know where that is going either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, regular "life" stuff happens - the engine on my van went; it was a $2,000 repair.  Next week, we are putting in a new oil furnace at a cost of $1,500.   Back to school uniforms and expenses have crept up on me - its always something :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday night, Dakotah was at a friend's house for an end of summer party, with about 20 or 30 of her friends from high school when one of the boys was called away suddenly.   They found out later that his dad had died very suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 52.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of Dakotah's friends went to the wake tonight - the first one Dakotah has ever been to.  It was emotional for them all,  and powerful to know that they were all supporting one another and leaning on each other to be there for their friend Cody. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was proud of her for going, and would have liked to be there when she did, but it was sort of a rite of passage for the kids as they all went in to express their sympathy together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was driving to school to pick Paige up today, I was thinking there isn't a single spot in my life that doesn't feel stressful.   Of course, that isn't completely true - everyone is healthy, well-fed, has a nice warm bed to sleep in, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I was feeling a little whiney, to say the least. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I arrived at school, went into Paige's classroom, where I was met with the most beautiful little girl-our friend Emma - who ran to me, jumped in my arms, hugged me tight, and said my name over and over again, and then jumped up and down with excitement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a greeting like that, who wouldn't leave with a smile on her face, no matter how goofy the world is acting right now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-5122136913412998954?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/5122136913412998954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=5122136913412998954' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/5122136913412998954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/5122136913412998954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/09/upside-down-and-ound-and-round.html' title='Upside down and &apos;round and &apos;round'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-4460078027349393180</id><published>2009-08-19T10:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T10:56:24.252-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Paige funny!</title><content type='html'>Paige has been able to run the dvd player from a very young age.  She has favorite movies, and even before she recognized letters and words, she could tell just by looking at them which ones were her favorite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She can fast forward or rewind the dvd with exact precision to the spot she wants to watch, and she has spots on her favorite movies that she likes to watch over and over again. Anyone who visits our house leaves us humming a tune or singing a song that they can't get out of their head for probably hours after, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the other day, she couldn't find the movie she wanted.  She had the case, but no movie.  So, she picks up the case, looks for a dvd in the group that has no writing on it.   She then took the blank dvd and the case of the movie she wanted to the computer, handed it to Wayne who was sitting there,  then opened the door to the dvd writer on the computer, put the dvd in, and waited, hoping that Wayne would find a copy of it and burn it for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is so smart that girl of mine!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-4460078027349393180?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/4460078027349393180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=4460078027349393180' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/4460078027349393180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/4460078027349393180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/08/paige-funny.html' title='A Paige funny!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-8396291219960441760</id><published>2009-08-08T22:22:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T22:40:41.395-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Dance!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Sn413MrtpGI/AAAAAAAAAl0/3Nxws37jrZI/s1600-h/calvin-n-hobbes-733953.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 175px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Sn413MrtpGI/AAAAAAAAAl0/3Nxws37jrZI/s320/calvin-n-hobbes-733953.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367787028285858914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*drum roll*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, coming back from the bathroom, Wayne let go of Paige's hand for a few seconds, and she STOOD ALL BY HERSELF in the middle of the living room.  No other support, no walker, no wheelchair, no wall to hold on to, nothing but air, baby!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was scared to death, and wasn't too happy until we started screaming and celebrating, and then she realized it was something to be proud of.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She couldn't figure out how to sit down without help, and didn't lift her foot to take a step, but she stood and it was glorious!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How lucky I will be to witness first steps again!!  Yahoo!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-8396291219960441760?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/8396291219960441760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=8396291219960441760' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/8396291219960441760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/8396291219960441760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/08/happy-dance.html' title='Happy Dance!!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Sn413MrtpGI/AAAAAAAAAl0/3Nxws37jrZI/s72-c/calvin-n-hobbes-733953.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-9155283806203145592</id><published>2009-08-08T22:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T22:22:09.182-04:00</updated><title type='text'>OW!</title><content type='html'>I think I broke my toe.  I was going up the stairs in the dark two nights ago and of course, the stuff I left on the stairs to be taken up by Wayne or Dakotah had simply been stepped over on their way to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I realized it was still there, I reached to pick it up, and as I did, my foot collided with the big column base at the foot of our stair railing.  It hurt like a beeotch but I shook it off - until I laid down in bed, and touching my toe to the sheet sent throbbing, pulsating pain into my foot.  Every time I moved, it woke me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geez.  Now its all bruised and swollen looking and pushing its two brother toes off to the side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't realize how much you use a tiny little toe, especially one that's not even on the side of your foot.  It stretches with every step.   Every time someone comes within 10 feet of me, I scream, "watch my toe!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kirby is like a magnet to it - he's stepped on it about 20 times already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure I'll recover from this tragedy, lol, as I did the same thing about 15 years ago when I tripped on Wayne's golf bag.   Its already feeling a bit better, but it would be nice if I could suck some sympathy out of it for a while. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing I don't have big feet - I can't even keep these small ones out of the way of anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need to invent a toe sling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe a toe cast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then you could all sign it in teeny tiny letters.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-9155283806203145592?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/9155283806203145592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=9155283806203145592' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/9155283806203145592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/9155283806203145592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/08/ow.html' title='OW!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-2789187864439987034</id><published>2009-07-27T01:38:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T01:49:42.886-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to my dad</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Today would have been my dad's 77th birthday.  He died nearly 12 years ago, before he even had a chance to grow old.  I think of him often, and miss him dearly.  Most milestones - his birthday, holidays, the date of his death - pass by with a peaceful calm feeling, knowing he is still here with me, and that one day I shall meet him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I'm not sure why, but today its hard - really hard - to miss him.  Its nearly 2 a.m. and I'm sitting quietly in the dark, thinking of him, and praying for the strength to get through the day without the deep, engulfing sobs that I feel wrapping their hands around my throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I'm lonely for him.  He was such a good father.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In The Light&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;A shadow of joy flickers; it is me.&lt;br /&gt;I told you I wouldn't leave.&lt;br /&gt;My spirit is with you.&lt;br /&gt;My memories, my thoughts&lt;br /&gt;are embedded deep in your heart.&lt;br /&gt;I still love you.&lt;br /&gt;Do not for one moment think&lt;br /&gt;that you have been abandoned.&lt;br /&gt;I am in the Light. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;In the corner, in the hall,&lt;br /&gt;the car, the yard&lt;br /&gt;These are the places&lt;br /&gt;I stay with you. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;My spirit rises every&lt;br /&gt;time you pray for me,&lt;br /&gt;but my energy comes closer to you.&lt;br /&gt;Love does not diminish,&lt;br /&gt;it grows stronger. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I am the feather&lt;br /&gt;that finds you in the yard,&lt;br /&gt;The dimmed light&lt;br /&gt;that grows brighter in your mind,&lt;br /&gt;I place our memories for you to see.&lt;br /&gt;We lived in our special way,&lt;br /&gt;a way that now has its focus changed. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still miss you&lt;br /&gt;and long for the&lt;br /&gt;many words of prayer&lt;br /&gt;and good fortune for my soul.&lt;br /&gt;I am in the Light. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;As you struggle to adjust without me,&lt;br /&gt;I watch silently.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I summon up&lt;br /&gt;all the strength of my new world&lt;br /&gt;to make you notice me.&lt;br /&gt;I show you that I am here, and you feel me.&lt;br /&gt;Called to you by your grief,&lt;br /&gt;I try to impress my love deeper&lt;br /&gt;into your consciousness. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;As you should, I call out&lt;br /&gt;to the Heavens for help.&lt;br /&gt;You should know that&lt;br /&gt;My soul is now healthy.&lt;br /&gt;Your love sends me new found energy.&lt;br /&gt;I am adjusting to this new world.&lt;br /&gt;I am with you and I am in the Light. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;Please don't feel bad&lt;br /&gt;that you can't see me.&lt;br /&gt;I am with you wherever you go.&lt;br /&gt;I protect you,&lt;br /&gt;just as you protected me&lt;br /&gt;so many times.&lt;br /&gt;Talk to me and somehow&lt;br /&gt;I will find a way to answer you. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;Whatever your question,&lt;br /&gt;whatever your fear,&lt;br /&gt;I will hear you&lt;br /&gt;I will see you with my new eyes.&lt;br /&gt;I am learning to help wherever you are,&lt;br /&gt;wherever I am needed.&lt;br /&gt;This can be done&lt;br /&gt;because I am in the Light. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;When you feel despair,&lt;br /&gt;reach out to me.&lt;br /&gt;I will come.&lt;br /&gt;My  love for you truly does&lt;br /&gt;transcend from Heaven to Earth. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;Finish your life with the enthusiasm&lt;br /&gt;and zest that you had when we were&lt;br /&gt;together in the physical sense.&lt;br /&gt;You owe this to me, but more importantly,&lt;br /&gt;you owe it to yourself. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;Live life for both of us. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;I am with you because I love you&lt;br /&gt;and I am in the Light. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: verdana;"&gt;---Author Unknown---&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-2789187864439987034?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2789187864439987034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=2789187864439987034' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/2789187864439987034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/2789187864439987034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/07/today-would-have-been-my-dads-77th.html' title='Happy Birthday to my dad'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-2507228851743438802</id><published>2009-07-26T19:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T19:11:15.914-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream a little dream of me...</title><content type='html'>I have about 7 or 8 dreams that I have had for close to 20 years.  These dreams are always the same,  all the same details, people involved, etc.   They come without rhyme or reason, and are so familiar to me that I am almost in an awake state when I am dreaming them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its funny, but I almost forget the dreams until I have them again, and then I wake up thinking, "there is that darn dream again."    Last night's dream was the one about my sister finding out she is pregnant.  In the dream, I see her go through all the stages of pregnancy, with her giving birth to a little boy.    Then the dream fast forwards, and I see the little boy about two years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the dream, I am near the boy, but I can't touch him.  And I never learn his name.  That bothers me, both in the dream, and when I wake up.   And I ache for this little boy, totally jealous of her getting pregnant by "accident."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is so much strange in this dream - first, Kathy's boys are 27 and 31, and she is, well, past child-bearing age, lol.     I'm very close to her and her boys, and don't understand why I dream that I can't get near this child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, in my waking hours,  I am not, not, NOT desiring to be pregnant, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This dream, and the few others that I keep having bother me for days after I have them...I feel vulnerable, haunted by them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else remember their dreams so vividly?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-2507228851743438802?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/2507228851743438802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=2507228851743438802' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/2507228851743438802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/2507228851743438802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/07/dream-little-dream-of-me.html' title='Dream a little dream of me...'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-7508714113351117472</id><published>2009-06-28T15:26:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T15:40:51.974-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Before the pool was even full...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SkfFfBpThZI/AAAAAAAAAlk/vzl72oQo5y0/s1600-h/KIRBY1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SkfFfBpThZI/AAAAAAAAAlk/vzl72oQo5y0/s320/KIRBY1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352463818961421714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone had to stand in the way of the water.   It should be fun keeping this guy out of the pool all summer long!   Paige has been in three times, and is having a blast - she is getting so much great exercise for her legs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SkfGM5f4y0I/AAAAAAAAAls/eVpkkhc-HKs/s1600-h/KIRBY2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SkfGM5f4y0I/AAAAAAAAAls/eVpkkhc-HKs/s320/KIRBY2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352464607048420162" 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/24008273-7508714113351117472?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/7508714113351117472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=7508714113351117472' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/7508714113351117472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/7508714113351117472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/06/before-pool-was-even-full.html' title='Before the pool was even full...'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SkfFfBpThZI/AAAAAAAAAlk/vzl72oQo5y0/s72-c/KIRBY1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-631674787864863534</id><published>2009-06-10T15:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T16:18:01.846-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Advice to myself...</title><content type='html'>I stole this idea from &lt;a href="http://davehingsburger.blogspot.com/2009/06/youve-got-mail.html"&gt;Dave. &lt;/a&gt;He read an article in a magazine where celebrities wrote a letter from their "adult me" to their "teenage me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought this was a great idea - I'm always writing letters to my children, and just the other day, Dakotah and I were discussing this...how sometimes I write her a letter and give it to her, and sometimes I just tuck it away.  I told her it made me feel good to know that when I am dead and gone, and she is going through all of my "stuff" that she will find pieces of her life and words of wisdom from her Mom in places she least expected it.   In fact,  I would like to add the words, "whisper words of wisdom" to the edge of my tattoo - because I think that's one of my most important jobs as a Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here is my letter to 15-year old me, on my birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Betsy,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, you are 15.  Later tonight, your friends will throw you a surprise birthday party in Kathy's basement.  It will be one of the first sort of girl-boy parties you have, and you will remember this party for years to come. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're just beginning to grow up, and although it may seem slow to come to you now, adulthood is just around the corner.   I wish I could offer you the wisdom of the years in the way that a 15-year-old could understand.   Enjoy your high school years with vigor - laugh often, study hard, and avoid high school drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a couple of years, you will be voted most likely to succeed in your graduating class, along with most sensitive and, ironically, best couple.   Just to let you know, that best couple thing isn't really going to work out, as your long time high school boyfriend is actually gay.  He's gonna figure that one out in a few years, and you are going to have to take the ribbing of people who tell you that you 'scared him gay.'   But, not to worry, there will be a few other suitors along the path over the next few years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should really listen to the advice of some of your teachers, especially your English teacher, Mr. Gigi, who tells you over and over again that you are a writer - that its natural and easy and fluid in you.  Don't be so worried that its not a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; job - give it your all, and maybe it will be.  Believe him when he tells you words are powerful, and that you have the power...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and take advice from your business teacher too - even though you are learning to type on a manual typewriter, and can fling that carriage halfway across the room faster than most, this talent will soon be obsolete.   You won't even believe what its eventually replaced with.  Still, she has some good advice - sit up straight, put your feet flat on the floor, no chewing gum and DON'T LOOK AT THE KEYS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as long as we're listening to advice from teachers,  keeping one body space between you and the next person is always a good idea too. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That permed hair of yours - you're going to wonder what the hell you were thinking someday.  Same goes for that blue eyeshadow, the turned up collar on your shirt, and the three piercings in each ear.   You're probably still going to love the smell of Love's Baby Soft and Jovan Musk though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm pretty sure that you'll re-discover clogs in the form of Birkinstocks at some point in your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't believe it when people tell you that you can't change the world.   Its nonsense, and uttered only by people who don't realize the power of one person, of paying it forward, and of remembering to be grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things you might consider NOT doing in the next few years - getting into bars underage on the arm of your  brother-in-law, mooning a policeman at a town hall dance, showing up at a Halloween party dressed as Woodstock from Peanuts, only to realize its more of a drag queen kind of party, popping out of a birthday cake, winning a "party naked" t-shirt, harrassing the Chuck E Cheese mouse...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you decide not to take my advice and still do those things, be glad that this thing called "Facebook" has not yet been invented.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be prepared for lots of surprises in your life.  At 15, you cannot even imagine what the next 30 years will bring you - the friends you will make, the friends you will lose, the jobs you will have, the journeys you will take.   Relish them all, and realize they are all forming a part of who you are and who you become.   Shake off the bad stuff, and fall to your knees and thank God for the good stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you love school - spend your life being a student.  Absorb the world like a sponge, learning life's lessons in places that you least expect to find them.  Remember, everyone has a story, and those stories are what make us human.  Share yours and take great interest in others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are voted Most Sensitive, it will be because you are an emotional person...something you will debate over and over again whether that is a good thing or not.  Don't mistake being sensitive for not being strong.   You are going to surprise yourself and everyone who knows you with your strength in the years to come.   You are going to learn to appreciate that you love deeply,  cry often, and laugh even more.   You will understand and be grateful and you will not want to change that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will be blessed.   Many, many times over.   You will look back on your life often and be so surprised at the journey.   But, you will not wish it away; you will celebrate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its gonna be a great life - see ya in 30 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Betsy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-631674787864863534?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/631674787864863534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=631674787864863534' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/631674787864863534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/631674787864863534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/06/advice-to-myself.html' title='Advice to myself...'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-9045258001807416892</id><published>2009-06-04T15:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T15:42:08.357-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Still Alive!</title><content type='html'>Wow, I just realized its been nearly a month since my last blog post.   I'm pretty low on the hierarchy scale for the computer lately, as Dakotah works to finish up her year end projects for school, and Wayne is busy scheduling for Little League Baseball for the summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its that crazy, fun time of the year where its busy and fun, but almost too busy to be any fun, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls have just a few weeks of school left.  Dakotah will be halfway through high school in just three weeks.  She has had a few meetings at school to try and pick her courses for the next two years, with the "what do you want to be when you grow up" thought behind it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She really isn't sure, and is really a bit stressed about it, so afraid she will make a wrong choice, or that life will somehow throw her a curve ball that she can't anticipate, and that she will wish she had taken another path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, life is a journey, not just a path, and no matter what she decides now, she will encounter lots of surprises in the years that follow.   Heck, I'm 45 and still probably cannot answer that "what do you want to be when you grow up" question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, I'm just not sure I'm all that grown up yet. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to give her great wings to fly, and want her to know that the world is hers for the grabbing, but I do it all with a big lump in my throat, knowing how fast she has grown up before my very eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We look forward to new phases in her life with great anticipation, and a tiny bit of bittersweet "seize the moment" flavour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is such a great kid, and so far, fingers crossed, these teen years have been no more trying than a constant quest to keep her room clean...a quest I simply cannot seem to succeed at, no matter how much I nag at her to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paige is doing wonderfully - she is not walking on her own yet, but she loves being outside, and begs to go for a walk at least 10 times a day.   She loves being outside, even if it means in a stroller for right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are installing a pool for the summer, and I'm so happy for that - both girls love the water, and it will be so good for Paige's physical strength.   I'm going to want to sneak way from work many afternoons, I'm sure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is strolling along at a very normal pace for all of us now, and I'm not going to complain about that at all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-9045258001807416892?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/9045258001807416892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=9045258001807416892' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/9045258001807416892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/9045258001807416892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-still-alive.html' title='I&apos;m Still Alive!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-980273705601698096</id><published>2009-05-06T19:14:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T19:30:55.832-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What a lovely night</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SgIaFhuhH9I/AAAAAAAAAlM/FsGIiIFwUzA/s1600-h/em.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 380px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SgIaFhuhH9I/AAAAAAAAAlM/FsGIiIFwUzA/s320/em.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332853591015235538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend, Camille's, daughter had her Confirmation on Monday night.  I don't know if you can tell, but if you look closely at her left hand, she has her fingers crossed - she is either making a wish, or telling a lie, rofl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so honoured and happy to be her sponsor.   It was such a magical night - Emma was so sweet, and so adorable, and so affectionate all night long.  Every time she looked at me, my heart melted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I said to Camille, it was as if the Bishop were tying our heart strings together as he Confirmed her.   I felt so bonded to her, and tied to her soul in an incredible way.  Every few minutes, she would just gently pat my hand, or kiss me so softly.    We were both just adoring one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we all go through times early on when we feel like everyone is looking at our children because they have Down syndrome.   We worry that people are staring at us or making judgments about us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That feeling eventually goes away, and I can't even remember the last time I worried, or even thought about anyone noticing Paige had T21.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Monday night, well....I really felt like all eyes were on us.   There were probably 50 children with parents and sponsors at the Cathedral, and I felt like every single parent and sponsor was looking at Emma and me - with envy and jealousy that *I* got the privilege of standing beside her, putting my hand on her shoulder, and praying for her.    I felt like every set of eyes in the room was looking at us,  wishing they could &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt; us, as we snuggled and hugged through the service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart nearly burst when Emma was standing on the kneeler in front of me, and reached around and took my hand to put it on the pew in front of her, so I was protecting her on both sides, and then, as if it weren't just right, she took both my hands and wrapped them around her waist.   I could have fainted from pure joy at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I whispered to her over and over again at the end of the ceremony "Thank God for you, Em, thank God for you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SgIdIEwQ8GI/AAAAAAAAAlU/ATW1QErdhwI/s1600-h/DSCF4598.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SgIdIEwQ8GI/AAAAAAAAAlU/ATW1QErdhwI/s320/DSCF4598.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332856933312426082" 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/24008273-980273705601698096?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/980273705601698096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=980273705601698096' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/980273705601698096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/980273705601698096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-lovely-night.html' title='What a lovely night'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SgIaFhuhH9I/AAAAAAAAAlM/FsGIiIFwUzA/s72-c/em.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-277133702413172313</id><published>2009-04-23T00:10:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T00:29:21.588-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Michael</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Se_q02tYPpI/AAAAAAAAAlE/ZbJty9pihj0/s1600-h/hope.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Se_q02tYPpI/AAAAAAAAAlE/ZbJty9pihj0/s320/hope.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327735077962530450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today, Paige had a dentist appointment at CHEO.  The clinics at CHEO are lined up and down a long corridor on one wing of the hospital.    There aren't too many of those clinics that we haven't visited at one time or another - audiology, neurology, opthamology, general surgery, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dentist's office shares the same waiting room as the neurology department.   While we were waiting for Paige to go in and have her teeth cleaned, we were people watching as we often do.  Paige love, love, loves to people watch, and is content to sit and do it for a very long time.   She loves being in a mall where she can see many people come and go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, I am a dreamer, I guess, and I believe that everyone has a story to tell.  When I people watch with Paige, I try to imagine the story that I would be told if I were brave enough to ask - imagine the beautiful, maybe heart-wrenching stories I could learn from an old lady out buying lottery tickets, or a little girl happily buying her first pair of school shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it was with this kind of absent minded dreaminess that Paige and I saw baby Michael.   Now, I have no idea if that was his name, but I think he kind of looked like a Michael.    He was about 3 or 4 months old, dressed in a navy blue and tan plaid shirt with little khaki pants on and a sprig of white blonde hair on the top of his head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby Michael and his parents were coming out of the neurology department, and both mom and dad were visibly upset.   Dad was nearly gasping for air, as tears streamed down his face, and he struggled to hold it together.   He was clinging to his son for dear life.   Mom was red-faced, and tear stained, with that deer-in-the-headlights look that is never good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were escorted across the hall, to the surgery clinic.  Once they were left alone for a minute, Mom folded into Dad's arms and they rocked back and forth and just hung on to one another, rubbing baby Michael's back as they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within a minute, they were again whisked away into an office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I so wanted to shoot them magic words bubbles - and I'm not even sure what those words would be.  All in a moment's time, I wanted to tell them that it was o.k., that they were in good hands, that they were strong, that the love they had for their baby would make them nearly limitless in what they could endure for him.   Maybe I wanted to say, "I know, I know" or "I understand."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, of course, I don't know much of anything, other than they had just received devastating news of some sort.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that the desperation that I witnessed was fear - fear before acceptance of something that could perhaps be fixed, something that would allow them to love and cherish their dear boy for years and years to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that the days ahead for them are good ones, that the life lessons that are about to be thrust upon whether they asked for them or not, are good ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of all, we prayed for baby Michael tonight...a sweet little boy who's story or name we will never really know.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I'm sure when Paige and I said our prayers, Our Good Lord knew exactly who we meant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-277133702413172313?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/277133702413172313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=277133702413172313' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/277133702413172313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/277133702413172313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/04/baby-michael.html' title='Baby Michael'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Se_q02tYPpI/AAAAAAAAAlE/ZbJty9pihj0/s72-c/hope.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-7232544164780078682</id><published>2009-04-19T17:25:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T17:28:29.949-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do I do the things I do?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeuW1U3bccI/AAAAAAAAAk8/LD43Sz19N64/s1600-h/Sick.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeuW1U3bccI/AAAAAAAAAk8/LD43Sz19N64/s320/Sick.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326516827174171074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After bragging last week that I haven't had a cold in five years - what happens?? Yep - I get a cold - a bad one - one worthy of an every five years experience.   *cough, cough, sniff* (oh, don't forget *cough, cough, cough, cough, leak pee*)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-7232544164780078682?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/7232544164780078682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=7232544164780078682' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/7232544164780078682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/7232544164780078682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/04/why-do-i-do-things-i-do.html' title='Why do I do the things I do?'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeuW1U3bccI/AAAAAAAAAk8/LD43Sz19N64/s72-c/Sick.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-5163228432820907960</id><published>2009-04-15T15:49:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T15:58:25.298-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More Easter fun...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY7ZfPEgnI/AAAAAAAAAkc/UHO6JW6252Y/s1600-h/DSC00877.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY7ZfPEgnI/AAAAAAAAAkc/UHO6JW6252Y/s200/DSC00877.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325008918479667826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my latest attempt at home-made Easter eggs - truffle-like and filled with chocolate, vanilla, nuts or coconut inspired by &lt;a href="http://bakerella.blogspot.com/"&gt;Bakerella&lt;/a&gt; - yummy, but a little goes a long way - we still have too many left!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are still in the rough stages, still drying, so there's lots of drippy's on the edges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Dakotah and my friend &lt;a href="http://recipeadjustment.blogspot.com/"&gt;Julie&lt;/a&gt; for their groovy decorating skills!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY8QVDIpPI/AAAAAAAAAk0/zQP4oKc_7so/s1600-h/DSC00885.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY8QVDIpPI/AAAAAAAAAk0/zQP4oKc_7so/s200/DSC00885.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325009860638057714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY7oZfj5FI/AAAAAAAAAkk/Op7Zdlz7gnc/s1600-h/DSC00876.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY7oZfj5FI/AAAAAAAAAkk/Op7Zdlz7gnc/s200/DSC00876.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325009174636258386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY74f7TXBI/AAAAAAAAAks/UXQlzrMExYA/s1600-h/DSC00880.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY74f7TXBI/AAAAAAAAAks/UXQlzrMExYA/s200/DSC00880.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325009451241135122" 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/24008273-5163228432820907960?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/5163228432820907960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=5163228432820907960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/5163228432820907960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/5163228432820907960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/04/more-easter-fun.html' title='More Easter fun...'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeY7ZfPEgnI/AAAAAAAAAkc/UHO6JW6252Y/s72-c/DSC00877.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-1793356517578198297</id><published>2009-04-14T20:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T20:12:47.710-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Evening</title><content type='html'>Dakotah's favorite thing to do...take pictures!  Notice the little line of chocolate on Paige's bottom lip.  It was Dakotah's way of convincing her to "model" for her.  By the grin on Paige's face, it looks like she thought she was the one doing all the convincing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeUmBXWbVOI/AAAAAAAAAkE/NLk3b08a7ws/s1600-h/DSC00912.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeUmBXWbVOI/AAAAAAAAAkE/NLk3b08a7ws/s320/DSC00912.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324703939325285602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeUmJtCjltI/AAAAAAAAAkM/Mx1-4CFQZDc/s1600-h/DSC00911.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeUmJtCjltI/AAAAAAAAAkM/Mx1-4CFQZDc/s320/DSC00911.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324704082586474194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeUmUQrtGHI/AAAAAAAAAkU/zSmzEVqz_SE/s1600-h/DSC00919.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeUmUQrtGHI/AAAAAAAAAkU/zSmzEVqz_SE/s320/DSC00919.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324704263952996466" 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/24008273-1793356517578198297?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/1793356517578198297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=1793356517578198297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/1793356517578198297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/1793356517578198297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/04/easter-evening.html' title='Easter Evening'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeUmBXWbVOI/AAAAAAAAAkE/NLk3b08a7ws/s72-c/DSC00912.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-7444964218450851849</id><published>2009-04-14T11:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T11:49:30.857-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Inspired, Be Humbled...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If your face needs to smile so wide it makes your cheeks hurt,&lt;br /&gt;If your heart needs to swell so much it feels like it will burst,&lt;br /&gt;If your soul needs a hug so warm and tight you never want to let go,&lt;br /&gt;If you want a feel good moment that will carry you through the day,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then take just seven minutes to watch this video - you'll be so glad you did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY"&gt;Susan Boyle&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What beauty we might miss...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-7444964218450851849?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/7444964218450851849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=7444964218450851849' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/7444964218450851849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/7444964218450851849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/04/be-inspired-be-humbled.html' title='Be Inspired, Be Humbled...'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-282349642377680747</id><published>2009-04-12T14:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T14:21:52.279-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Indeed!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeIxIsz-vwI/AAAAAAAAAj8/pNRqlb7C1hY/s1600-h/ris.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 207px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeIxIsz-vwI/AAAAAAAAAj8/pNRqlb7C1hY/s200/ris.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323871735043243778" 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/24008273-282349642377680747?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/282349642377680747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=282349642377680747' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/282349642377680747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/282349642377680747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/04/indeed.html' title='Indeed!!!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SeIxIsz-vwI/AAAAAAAAAj8/pNRqlb7C1hY/s72-c/ris.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-3818683675161557654</id><published>2009-03-31T16:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T16:26:13.910-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's The Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.r-word.org/"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 152px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdJ7Tn52yyI/AAAAAAAAAjw/pk9ZWi_bEBE/s200/word.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319449686937357090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Make it YOUR day to drop this word from your vocabulary. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-3818683675161557654?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/3818683675161557654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=3818683675161557654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/3818683675161557654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/3818683675161557654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/03/todays-day.html' title='Today&apos;s The Day'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdJ7Tn52yyI/AAAAAAAAAjw/pk9ZWi_bEBE/s72-c/word.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-5680708035941531746</id><published>2009-03-29T19:01:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:25:09.031-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few Pictures From Paige's Birthday</title><content type='html'>Paige turned 12 last Monday!  We made the mistake of opening gifts first and then going to the cake - Paige isn't much of a cake eater and was  rather unimpressed with my decorating skills, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdAAyqxSRBI/AAAAAAAAAi4/K0mAUC2-2P4/s1600-h/DSC00606.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdAAyqxSRBI/AAAAAAAAAi4/K0mAUC2-2P4/s200/DSC00606.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318752030399022098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdABDOe3GZI/AAAAAAAAAjA/R6aN5xIr_A4/s1600-h/DSC00605.JPG"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdABZs2Gv8I/AAAAAAAAAjI/PNGyAPRu8_I/s1600-h/DSC00605.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdABZs2Gv8I/AAAAAAAAAjI/PNGyAPRu8_I/s200/DSC00605.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318752700971007938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Sc__9-_AKXI/AAAAAAAAAig/nqcaAyLSb1E/s1600-h/DSC00604.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 176px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/Sc__9-_AKXI/AAAAAAAAAig/nqcaAyLSb1E/s200/DSC00604.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318751125292198258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdAAdz3wi0I/AAAAAAAAAiw/OOK26TnRnkU/s1600-h/DSC00617.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdAAdz3wi0I/AAAAAAAAAiw/OOK26TnRnkU/s200/DSC00617.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318751672064838466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdABrcCveTI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/YyccBCNg4BM/s1600-h/DSC00634.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 333px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdABrcCveTI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/YyccBCNg4BM/s200/DSC00634.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318753005698251058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdACfGxi71I/AAAAAAAAAjg/kVzLn2CmEOw/s1600-h/DSC00619.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdACfGxi71I/AAAAAAAAAjg/kVzLn2CmEOw/s200/DSC00619.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318753893342179154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdACwLRDlOI/AAAAAAAAAjo/AEB4fdX3woA/s1600-h/DSC00640.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdACwLRDlOI/AAAAAAAAAjo/AEB4fdX3woA/s200/DSC00640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318754186605860066" 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/24008273-5680708035941531746?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/5680708035941531746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=5680708035941531746' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/5680708035941531746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/5680708035941531746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/03/few-pictures-from-paiges-birthday.html' title='A Few Pictures From Paige&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FRh-PcD_OF0/SdAAyqxSRBI/AAAAAAAAAi4/K0mAUC2-2P4/s72-c/DSC00606.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-6472524909901023918</id><published>2009-03-29T10:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:00:38.417-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A great new blog!</title><content type='html'>My friend Julie, just started a fantastic new blog called &lt;a href="http://recipeadjustment.blogspot.com/"&gt;Recipe Adjustment&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you like to cook, like to eat, like to read about cooking or eating, need a recommendation on a product or an ingredient, then you MUST bookmark this blog and visit frequently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Julie is the consummate cook - she spends hours devouring recipe books, and then tweaking the things she reads into delicious one of a kind food.  She is also a great researcher,  so if you are trying to decide which mixer is the right one for you, she's the girl to go to.   She can find you the best, at the cheapest cost!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to see where Julie takes her blog - I'm excited to see decadent recipes, and consumer information about food warnings, specialty recipes like low sodium meals, or how to prepare a whole week's worth of meals on a shoestring budget in just one afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make this blog one of your dailies - you won't be sorry!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-6472524909901023918?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/6472524909901023918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=6472524909901023918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/6472524909901023918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/6472524909901023918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/03/great-new-blog.html' title='A great new blog!'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-6425426170782691415</id><published>2009-03-23T22:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T23:03:34.153-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Dad,</title><content type='html'>March 22nd marked the 11th anniversary of your death.   Its hard to believe that we said goodbye to you 11 years ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you terribly, and long for the sound of your voice.   I still have that same dream I've had since you died - the one where you are sitting in the corner chair of my dining room, while I am entertaining guests.  Only I can see and hear you and you are telling funny stories and commenting about the people around the table and the things they are talking about, making me laugh right along with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a strange dream, and its funny that it keeps happening,  almost identical every time I have it.  I've begun to look forward to the dream, and am always happy when I wake up to remember it.  I can see your crystal blue eyes so clearly in the dream, and can hear your voice as if you are sitting next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a strange combination of emotions - this missing you so badly, literally aching for my dad to be alive again, and then feeling so happy and so blessed to have had such a great father who left us too young, but with amazing memories of an incredible man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I imagine for anyone who truly loves their children, there is no greater honor than to die knowing your children adored you, to know you were a good parent, and that you made a huge difference in the lives of the people you created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please know that you excelled in all of these areas,  Dad.   I have adored you forever, and will continue to adore you forevermore.  You guided me and shaped me into the person I am, and I am forever thankful to you for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I miss you, it was your soul that made you an amazing father, not your physical body.   And I feel just as close to your soul as I ever did.   That makes the missing you part just a little bit easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping you've saved a seat for me in Heaven, because the minute I get there, I'm going to be jumping from cloud to cloud, looking for the man with the gentle voice, the white hair, and the amazing eyes - and I'm going to sit right down beside him, and tell him that I love him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, Dad, you are never going to leave my sight again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you with all my heart,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Betsy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-6425426170782691415?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/6425426170782691415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=6425426170782691415' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/6425426170782691415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/6425426170782691415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/03/dear-dad.html' title='Dear Dad,'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24008273.post-1330597818851937918</id><published>2009-03-23T22:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T22:44:36.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'>As the kids' today say, it was a par-tay</title><content type='html'>Last week was March break for my kids.  After much deliberations, and many negotiations, Dakotah finally talked me into allowing her to have a party at our house on Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For any of you who  haven't experienced 15 and 16 year olds yet,  let me just tell you that the crazy 8-year-old parties you've witnessed are nothing.   Those you can organize, and at least somewhat guide the children through the chaos.   The cool things are balloons and treat bags and messy cake and ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you're a teenager, the word party takes on a whole new element.  Dakotah thought that perhaps 20-25 people would be the appropriate number of guests.   I kindly suggested 8-10.  We settled on 14.    I might not have bargained quite enough on that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, set up with a whole list of household chores to d0 (hey, I had to get some benefit from it!), Dakotah cleaned and organized, and did everything I asked of her last week.  Which was actually pretty darn nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when the honored guests began to arrive, I did what I promised - I slinked myself, my husband, and our youngest daughter up the stairs so that the guys and girls could do their thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had my computer upstairs at the time, because I had so many thoughts about this little get together...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its strange being on the "grown up" side of things.   Listening to the kids talk and laugh and just be goofy reminded me of my teen years, and they truly don't seem like as many years ago as they really are.   It seems strange that I was the supervisor, the one "in charge" - when I so vividly remember being a kid just like them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always believed that one of the keys to successful parenting is to know your children's friends.  As much as a pain as it is to have kids hanging around your house all the time, I think it is well worth the investment in time (and groceries!) to have them be familiar with your home, and for you to be familiar with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know what the kids Dakotah hangs out with are like, and I want them to know what to expect from me...where I am willing to compromise, and where I am absolutely not willing to compromise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dakotah did a really good job as hostess;  she turned music and voices down when they got too loud, she stopped the sillies when kids were being crazy, and she checked in with me often.  She even tolerated me coming and going every hour or so, just to kind of make my presence known.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, I think she really does have a pretty good group of kids she hangs out with.  Even though the language sometimes left a bit to be desired when I wasn't downstairs, they were polite and respectful when I was.    Some of the bits and pieces of conversation that drifted upstairs was a bit interesting at time, but nothing particularly shocking.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a bit surprised at the "couples" that seemed to be there - but these are kids in their mid-teens, and its a rite of passage to have a boyfriend or a girlfriend;  its the time to begin to learn some of the intricacies of relationships, and to learn about who you really are.   I felt kind of old and like my own mother when I wanted to sit between them on the couch. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't experienced the boyfriend thing with Dakotah quite yet, so getting a little taste of it was just another notch on the belt of this motherhood thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, she is a social butterfly, who travels in a big pack of kids.  Every weekend there is a party, or a movie night or something going on.  I spend gads of time taxiing her here, there and everywhere.   Most weekends, I don't see 5 minutes for myself, and there are times when I just want to scream "enough already."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really do want her to love her high school years, to have fond memories of it, and to make good friends that she may carry with her for a long time.   I want to have a good relationship with her, where she feels that she can talk to me about anything.    I'm not seeking her friendship, but her trust in me as her mom, which sometimes takes on the role of disciplinarian and advisor, and yes, sometimes even dictator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know that I will agree to parties at our house too often - I was just too nervous, feeling a bit too out of control, and fretting a little more than I probably should have.   It was just too many bodies to be responsible for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, we all lived through it, and everyone seemed to have a good time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day these two girls of mine bring me new experiences, and new things to ponder.  I wonder what our next adventure will be!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24008273-1330597818851937918?l=bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/feeds/1330597818851937918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24008273&amp;postID=1330597818851937918' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/1330597818851937918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24008273/posts/default/1330597818851937918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bits-of-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/03/as-kids-today-say-it-was-par-tay.html' title='As the kids&apos; today say, it was a par-tay'/><author><name>Betsy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08993936253314777950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05181018191179208262'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry></feed>