<?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-9478302</id><updated>2009-11-13T09:57:01.956-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Naptime Musings</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>937</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-5373100458939691515</id><published>2009-11-11T23:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T23:47:31.078-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>On our first Valentine's Day together, Steve and I had been dating for almost a year.  For his present, I made him a scrapbook of of our first year together.  (I obviously didn't know him very well then because Steve doesn't care about that kind of stuff at all and, although he didn't say so at the time, I'm sure he thought it was a lame present.)  Still, I really liked making it and I wanted to keep scrapbooking after that.  I had good intentions and I still worked on scrapbooks after Emma was born, but by the time Allie was born five years later, I had about two years worth of scrapbooks and three years worth of photographs shoved in a shoe box.  My last scrapped page was before Noah's birth, and the task of trying to catch up seemed pretty daunting - especially when I thought about the huge mess of scrapbooking stuff I had to drag out to do it.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugRBzN6sI/AAAAAAAACAY/jw5QMRMdCEw/s1600-h/DSC_0036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugRBzN6sI/AAAAAAAACAY/jw5QMRMdCEw/s400/DSC_0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403088392362519234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This summer I started looking at my friend Christina's blog, in which she posts pictures of her digital scrapbook pages.  Her pages were so cute that I was inspired to give digital scrapbooking a try.  It's cheap, fun, and best of all - no mess!  I started scrapping current pictures and worked my way back and it didn't take me long at all to get several months finished.  Once I had eighty pages complete, I ordered a photo book.  I was so very pleased with how it turned out!  The quality was excellent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugRZMkxoI/AAAAAAAACAg/5q1IRqwNPzk/s1600-h/DSC_0045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugRZMkxoI/AAAAAAAACAg/5q1IRqwNPzk/s400/DSC_0045.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403088398642890370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In addition to the first book I had printed, I now have almost two more complete.  I am completely up to date, and have gone all the way back to when Allie was born.  It's a great relief for me to get these pictures scrapped, and making the pages is a lot of fun for me as well.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugR_g2cAI/AAAAAAAACAo/2Vhrm9EcqSU/s1600-h/DSC_0049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugR_g2cAI/AAAAAAAACAo/2Vhrm9EcqSU/s400/DSC_0049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403088408928481282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Right now, I'm feeling a little stuck because the next pictures I need to scrap are of Allie's birth.  My friend Deanna took over 500 wonderful pictures during her birth and I need to go through them and pick out the ones I want to use.  Mostly though, I am not sure how to create pages that can portray the emotions involved in her birth.  I want to make them special, something more meaningful than just another typical afternoon-at-the-pumpkin-patch type of page.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugSOYNo3I/AAAAAAAACAw/ufBwm5xDtAg/s1600-h/DSC_0053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugSOYNo3I/AAAAAAAACAw/ufBwm5xDtAg/s400/DSC_0053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403088412918784882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Anyway, I guess the point of this post is, if you are considering trying digital scrapbooking, I highly recommend it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-5373100458939691515?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5373100458939691515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=5373100458939691515' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/5373100458939691515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/5373100458939691515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/on-our-first-valentines-day-together.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvugRBzN6sI/AAAAAAAACAY/jw5QMRMdCEw/s72-c/DSC_0036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-7065225185647353271</id><published>2009-11-09T11:55:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T11:55:35.808-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here's a tip.  If your baby learns to spit her water and thinks it's funny, don't encourage her because she might never again take a drink without spitting it out afterward.  Really, don't do it, no matter how cute it might have been in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="600" height="361" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" wmode="transparent" src="http://static.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vidmg.photobucket.com/albums/v161/stitus/MVI_1261.flv"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-7065225185647353271?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7065225185647353271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=7065225185647353271' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7065225185647353271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7065225185647353271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/heres-tip.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-684719020738764803</id><published>2009-11-04T18:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T18:35:58.005-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Emma apparently can't get enough of school, because every afternoon she sits at the table and draws and writes, and writes and draws, then draws and writes some more.  She is very into learning to read and she spends a lot of time trying to sound out new words and writing them down.  Yesterday afternoon she was working on something that she wouldn't let me see and she only asked for my help once, although I was kind of confused about why she was asking me to spell "ing".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night when I went to bed I found this on my pillow.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvIZcArRJbI/AAAAAAAACAQ/MtoXsfdClMM/s1600-h/DSC_0001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SvIZcArRJbI/AAAAAAAACAQ/MtoXsfdClMM/s400/DSC_0001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400406872179156402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Thank you for love ing me very much."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;, Emma, for making it so easy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-684719020738764803?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/684719020738764803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=684719020738764803' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/684719020738764803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/684719020738764803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/emma-apparently-cant-get-enough-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-7596490736602560295</id><published>2009-11-02T21:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T21:41:57.679-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lrvFHriI/AAAAAAAACAI/gc16BbMUgyo/s1600-h/DSC_0034blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lrvFHriI/AAAAAAAACAI/gc16BbMUgyo/s400/DSC_0034blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399716649031413282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We spent the weekend at my parents' house and, as always, we had a great time.  After Trunk or Treat at school the night before and then a day of general Halloween festivities, the kiddos were plum tuckered by the evening when it was time to go Trick or Treating.  Noah, who has never ever ever in his entire life admitted to being tired, said that was too worn out to go on after only about two houses.  Allie fell asleep in my arms a few minutes later, so it turned out that Emma was really our only Trick or Treater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year we spend Halloween at the house of some good family friends, and I wanted to bring some sort of cute Halloween treat to share this year.  I stumbled across &lt;a href="http://http//www.bakerella.com/trick-or-treats/"&gt;Bakerella's Halloween cake pops&lt;/a&gt;, and I thought they would be perfect.  While all of hers are super cute, I thought it would be a good idea to make mine a little simpler.  Not only would they be way less trouble, considering I have three less-than-meticulous helpers, but they would probably be more pleasant to eat, given that there would be no black licorice or anything like that to pick off before eating them.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lqZfErSI/AAAAAAAAB_w/OUU-xRURhKs/s1600-h/DSC_0010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lqZfErSI/AAAAAAAAB_w/OUU-xRURhKs/s400/DSC_0010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399716626054819106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Emma and I rolled the gooey cake mixture into many, many little balls.  I thought that was the messiest job ever, but no.  The part where we dipped them into chocolate was much, much worse, probably because we also enlisted the help of Noah and even Allie.  You would not believe the huge globs of chocolate that were flying around my kitchen.  Note a couple of those globs in the picture below.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lq5Y5cgI/AAAAAAAAB_4/n7ZaZDbQZxA/s1600-h/DSC_0018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lq5Y5cgI/AAAAAAAAB_4/n7ZaZDbQZxA/s400/DSC_0018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399716634618851842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In the end, the cake balls were absolutely delicious, and  I think everyone liked them.  We also wrapped each one in cellophane and tied them with little orange ribbons so they were cute too, although not quite on par with Bakeralla's.  Still, have you ever seen anyone look more excited about a cake pop?&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lrbnwyfI/AAAAAAAACAA/ROKP6kc9AJ0/s1600-h/DSC_0028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lrbnwyfI/AAAAAAAACAA/ROKP6kc9AJ0/s400/DSC_0028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399716643808004594" 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/9478302-7596490736602560295?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7596490736602560295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=7596490736602560295' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7596490736602560295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7596490736602560295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/we-spent-weekend-at-my-parents-house.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Su-lrvFHriI/AAAAAAAACAI/gc16BbMUgyo/s72-c/DSC_0034blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-8773388294611183693</id><published>2009-10-30T14:18:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T14:20:46.005-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sueu0G8J3XI/AAAAAAAAB_k/fZvCqRBRLkg/s1600-h/DSC_0011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sueu0G8J3XI/AAAAAAAAB_k/fZvCqRBRLkg/s400/DSC_0011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397474888666176882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a random cute picture I took the other day.  Emma likes to play games on the computer and Noah will sit there, watching intently, for a surprisingly long amount of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday Emma was asking me about saints, and what sort of things people have to do to become saints.  I told her that to be considered for sainthood, someone basically has to spend his or her entire life doing really nice things for other people.  "What about me?" she asked hopefully.  "I obey the Girl Scout Law at all times!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night at dinner, I think I qualified myself for some sort of bad mommy award.  We were eating at Spin, and Noah and I were sitting in a booth seat that stretched along the entire length of one wall, well past our own table.  He kept running along the seat, which was not such a big deal until someone else sat at one of the other tables along the wall.  I didn't want him disturbing their meal, so I asked him to sit down and stay at our table.  And I asked him again.  And again.  And again.  Like a typical two year old, his impulse control is not the best and he just couldn't stop himself from running along the vast expanse of seat that stretched before him.  I was getting so sick of chasing him down, and I really just wanted to sit and eat my delicious eggplant and goat cheese pizza.  He is pretty sensitive these days to things being scary ("hairy"), especially dinosaurs, so without really thinking about it, when he started to take off again, giggling hysterically, I just casually said, "Well, watch out for the dinosaurs."  Screeeech.  I've never seen him stop so fast and stand so still.  "Dinosaurs?"  I didn't even say anything else, but immediately he was back and asking to sit in my lap.  A few minutes later when I asked him to move, he said something about the dinosaurs coming for him.  I told him that I was just teasing about the dinosaurs, but he still seemed a little nervous.  I did feel sort of bad about it, but not bad enough to keep me from enjoying myself for those few peaceful moments!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-8773388294611183693?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8773388294611183693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=8773388294611183693' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/8773388294611183693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/8773388294611183693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/this-is-random-cute-picture-i-took.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sueu0G8J3XI/AAAAAAAAB_k/fZvCqRBRLkg/s72-c/DSC_0011.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-9478302.post-3059211087884073462</id><published>2009-10-26T22:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T11:28:40.794-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvFxKbPvI/AAAAAAAAB9s/G4TQrvgvfoI/s1600-h/DSC_0190blogedit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvFxKbPvI/AAAAAAAAB9s/G4TQrvgvfoI/s400/DSC_0190blogedit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397123348337213170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our last week was really a drag, due to a sick baby.  Allie was sick pretty much all week and I was up with her what seemed like all night, every night.  When she gets sick her temperature gets so high and it kind of freaks me out a little bit.  One night she was all the way up to 104.7 and I found myself wondering at what point I should take her to the hospital.  Luckily, she seems to be a lot better now, which means a much happier baby and a much more well-rested mommy.  I'm sure everyone in my family is thankful for that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvGdWYLWI/AAAAAAAAB90/wdppN06pTfg/s1600-h/DSC_0224blogedit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvGdWYLWI/AAAAAAAAB90/wdppN06pTfg/s400/DSC_0224blogedit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397123360198503778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This weekend we raked leaves in the yard, just so we could have the opportunity to jump in them.  Emma and Noah loved it.  I've never seen two people more thrilled about having yard waste thrown at them.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvG8vadyI/AAAAAAAAB98/YANUCYyaPSw/s1600-h/DSC_0251.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvG8vadyI/AAAAAAAAB98/YANUCYyaPSw/s400/DSC_0251.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397123368625010466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvHQAkN-I/AAAAAAAAB-E/Tq3eZ9d7cyY/s1600-h/DSC_0253.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvHQAkN-I/AAAAAAAAB-E/Tq3eZ9d7cyY/s400/DSC_0253.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397123373797226466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvHpd-TNI/AAAAAAAAB-M/27P07zvgcnc/s1600-h/DSC_0256.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvHpd-TNI/AAAAAAAAB-M/27P07zvgcnc/s400/DSC_0256.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397123380631456978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I thought Allie might like it too, so I put her in the leaf pile.  I don't know if it was because she wasn't feeling well or if she just isn't into playing in leaves, but she apparently didn't enjoy it nearly as much as her brother and sister!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZv-F_-nSI/AAAAAAAAB-U/WLffp2e52MY/s1600-h/DSC_0212.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZv-F_-nSI/AAAAAAAAB-U/WLffp2e52MY/s400/DSC_0212.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397124316003212578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZwkTan61I/AAAAAAAAB-0/oCaNDNqMmv8/s1600-h/DSC_0213.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZwkTan61I/AAAAAAAAB-0/oCaNDNqMmv8/s400/DSC_0213.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397124972439661394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZwkoAjXKI/AAAAAAAAB-8/zlaiJ4vHvaU/s1600-h/DSC_0214.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZwkoAjXKI/AAAAAAAAB-8/zlaiJ4vHvaU/s400/DSC_0214.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397124977967455394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZxCoA3toI/AAAAAAAAB_c/-eXBUWCFxIg/s1600-h/DSC_0215.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZxCoA3toI/AAAAAAAAB_c/-eXBUWCFxIg/s400/DSC_0215.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397125493364864642" 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/9478302-3059211087884073462?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3059211087884073462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=3059211087884073462' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/3059211087884073462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/3059211087884073462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/our-last-week-was-really-drag-due-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SuZvFxKbPvI/AAAAAAAAB9s/G4TQrvgvfoI/s72-c/DSC_0190blogedit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-8562891683346719256</id><published>2009-10-15T22:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T22:39:45.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Noah's latest trick:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-306eb8700cc55679" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAKXn9zyzXTyW6NoE_4ojujqTPEJO575drZtnM21nknov51ZYlItThsy_9GYcnPgdWOJnyJj3lyludfJTj-1orl6EPblbhCbfklKACJYrxMwEueKIHDzodfM1-YLljifYuG37gqzKhHIcV1iNIrKEpz8W4HMJJTwVZBe_CmqseZeSoBFX4KzsOFFPtrbQNjQKVhp6AJdcCrheEEKlh0b1xh0eCILNWa5AxgCdYbbEtWc8%26sigh%3D5jFU_8bOikg2Qx36FJyvXaCuNSY%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D306eb8700cc55679%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DewJOmP2W6K1YXiXYrC5YOmuWUYw&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAKXn9zyzXTyW6NoE_4ojujqTPEJO575drZtnM21nknov51ZYlItThsy_9GYcnPgdWOJnyJj3lyludfJTj-1orl6EPblbhCbfklKACJYrxMwEueKIHDzodfM1-YLljifYuG37gqzKhHIcV1iNIrKEpz8W4HMJJTwVZBe_CmqseZeSoBFX4KzsOFFPtrbQNjQKVhp6AJdcCrheEEKlh0b1xh0eCILNWa5AxgCdYbbEtWc8%26sigh%3D5jFU_8bOikg2Qx36FJyvXaCuNSY%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D306eb8700cc55679%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DewJOmP2W6K1YXiXYrC5YOmuWUYw&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-8562891683346719256?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8562891683346719256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=8562891683346719256' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/8562891683346719256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/8562891683346719256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/noahs-latest-trick.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-6445496373006983450</id><published>2009-10-14T21:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T21:09:05.558-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, the kids made it back from my brother and sister-in-law's house without any trouble, and they apparently &lt;a href="http://chickinczech.blogspot.com/"&gt;had a great time&lt;/a&gt; while they were there.  Noah woke up a couple times the first night and cried for a minute or two, and the second night he woke up once but went right back to sleep as soon as my brother carried him into their bed.  Amazing!  I am so happy that it all worked out so well.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StaDslQnh1I/AAAAAAAAB9c/Hz3cbor4D_o/s1600-h/100_0383.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StaDslQnh1I/AAAAAAAAB9c/Hz3cbor4D_o/s400/100_0383.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392642405762041682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Noah's hair had been getting pretty shaggy, and I was getting a little tired of paying $14 once a month or so for him to get a haircut.  My brother owns a set of clippers so I asked him to give Noah a buzz cut while he was there.  I had forgotten about that, so when I saw Noah Monday morning, I was a little shocked.  He looks like a completely different kid!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StaDWGt5J_I/AAAAAAAAB9M/DncLvaidMfE/s1600-h/DSC_0016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StaDWGt5J_I/AAAAAAAAB9M/DncLvaidMfE/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392642019606210546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He's been home for three days now, but I still do a double take every time I look at him.  I think he looks adorable, but definitely more like some other stranger kid than my Noah.  Of course, two seconds with him will confirm that it is definitely him.  He thinks its a hoot to close his eyes when I'm trying to take his pictures, so most of the shots I have of him lately look like this.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StaDtPiAUgI/AAAAAAAAB9k/kCLNgO2nURs/s1600-h/DSC_0011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StaDtPiAUgI/AAAAAAAAB9k/kCLNgO2nURs/s400/DSC_0011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392642417109258754" 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/9478302-6445496373006983450?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6445496373006983450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=6445496373006983450' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6445496373006983450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6445496373006983450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/well-kids-made-it-back-from-my-brother.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StaDslQnh1I/AAAAAAAAB9c/Hz3cbor4D_o/s72-c/100_0383.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-9478302.post-3954983181164032856</id><published>2009-10-10T12:29:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T14:43:22.883-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, this is weird.  I'm sitting here at the computer with a baby sleeping on my lap and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no one else is home to bother me&lt;/span&gt;.  Meaning, I can sit here peacefully for her entire nap and waste time doing whatever it is I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother lives two hours away in Columbia, but he works here in Kansas City, so he usually stays at our house a couple of nights a week to save himself many hours of driving.  Yesterday his car broke down and wasn't going to be fixed until today so he stayed here again, and offered to take Emma and Noah back home with him until Monday morning when he goes back to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, Noah has never been away overnight before, and he still isn't completely night-weaned (although we've been working on it lately) so right away I said no.  Two hours away, for two nights?  That seemed like way too huge of a step all at once.  Still, Noah said he wanted to go, and Emma wanted to go, and Steve said he thought I should let them go, so I mulled it over a bit and I decided to let them go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent them off this morning, although not without reservations.  They both adore my brother and sister-in-law and I know they will be in good hands, but I'm just wondering what's going to happen tonight when it's time for bed and Noah realizes that he is not going to be able to nurse.  I guess we'll just have to wait and see, but I certainly hope that it isn't too traumatic for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, did you hear what I said?  NO ONE IS HERE TO BOTHER ME!  Steve is working today and going to the Chiefs game tomorrow so it will mostly be just Allie and me for the weekend.  I'm not sure what we'll do, but with only one easy little baby to care for, the possibilities are endless!  Hurray!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StDjgMXfR6I/AAAAAAAAB88/n2fdYH-C17c/s1600-h/DSC_0001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StDjgMXfR6I/AAAAAAAAB88/n2fdYH-C17c/s400/DSC_0001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391058896177547170" 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/9478302-3954983181164032856?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3954983181164032856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=3954983181164032856' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/3954983181164032856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/3954983181164032856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/well-this-is-weird.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/StDjgMXfR6I/AAAAAAAAB88/n2fdYH-C17c/s72-c/DSC_0001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-7253284988483495246</id><published>2009-10-09T12:30:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T13:19:10.708-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Some random things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ I was able to get the beet stains off the floor using Magic Eraser.  I love that stuff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Emma is joining Daisy Scouts, and I volunteered to be in charge of cookie sales for her troop.  I had to go to an informational meeting about it earlier this week, and I left feeling a little dazed and overwhelmed.  They told us that the goal for each girl was to sell 125 boxes! Luckily, when I talked to her troop leader, she said I could keep it as low key as I want, which is a big relief.  Still, if you get a hankerin' for some Girl Scout cookies in the next couple of months, keep us in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ I love fall!  Love, love, love it!  We've been going on lots of walks, during which the kids collect a multitude of leaves, acorns, twigs, etc.  Their favorite thing to do of late is paint those objects with fall colors.  I am plenty happy about that because it keeps them busy for a long time.  Noah is surprisingly meticulous and will spend a good ten minutes painting a single acorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97QbQzoaI/AAAAAAAAB8M/9P6UNkvOJAQ/s1600-h/DSC_0008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97QbQzoaI/AAAAAAAAB8M/9P6UNkvOJAQ/s400/DSC_0008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390662801112146338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;~ I made a great discovery today.  I love banana bread, and because we often have overripe bananas that no one will eat, I make it a lot.  I particularly like &lt;a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/banana-banana-bread/detail.aspx"&gt;this recipe&lt;/a&gt; because it uses a lot of bananas - six bananas for one loaf! - but I don't like all the butter that goes in.  Today I did a little experiment and replaced all the butter with peanut butter and then added about a tablespoon of oil, and it turned out great!  I had to cook it a pretty long time, but it's really good.  There is quite a bit of of sugar, but I feel much better about eating 1/2 cup of peanut butter than 1/2 cup of butter, and since I use whole wheat flour, I'm telling myself that it's actually pretty healthy!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97bZqDsII/AAAAAAAAB80/v-Q9LzGUTfg/s1600-h/DSC_0044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97bZqDsII/AAAAAAAAB80/v-Q9LzGUTfg/s400/DSC_0044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390662989659746434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;~ Last week one morning we woke up and it was 59 degrees in here so I turned on the heat.  Where do you keep your thermostat?  Right now ours is set on 64.  It's fine for me (although I am usually hot when everyone else is comfortable) and no one is complaining, but sometimes Allie's little nose feels really cold.  I can't remember where I set it last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Noah discovered our return address stamp, and he now he likes to be covered with our name and address at all times.  Yesterday he got out of the bath and immediately ran to the kitchen and stamped up his legs again before I could get his clothes on.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97RNwFikI/AAAAAAAAB8U/JXVzcnK1nIw/s1600-h/DSC_0031.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97RNwFikI/AAAAAAAAB8U/JXVzcnK1nIw/s400/DSC_0031.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390662814665116226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;~ I still love Emma's lunch box and am having fun packing her lunch, but the novelty of taking pictures has worn off, so these will likely be the last ones you will see.  (I can just see my brother heaving a big sigh of relief!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Banana slices, celery with peanut butter, pistachios, and &lt;a href="http://www.pbs.org/everydayfood/recipes/roasted_pork.html"&gt;black-eyed pea salad&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97RqPyAeI/AAAAAAAAB8c/XbfsZlzKB20/s1600-h/DSC_0021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97RqPyAeI/AAAAAAAAB8c/XbfsZlzKB20/s400/DSC_0021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390662822314246626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Orange slices, green beans, &lt;a href="http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Yakisoba-Chicken/Detail.aspx"&gt;Yakisoba Chicken&lt;/a&gt; (this was SO good!), and &lt;a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2008/11/home-fries/"&gt;home fries&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97ShgOo1I/AAAAAAAAB8s/okmj2boATlM/s1600-h/DSC_0035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97ShgOo1I/AAAAAAAAB8s/okmj2boATlM/s400/DSC_0035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390662837147181906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;More black-eyed pea salad, raspberries, mashed sweet potatoes, and olives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97SFlxGwI/AAAAAAAAB8k/ZABKQucmCLY/s1600-h/DSC_0028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97SFlxGwI/AAAAAAAAB8k/ZABKQucmCLY/s400/DSC_0028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390662829654219522" 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/9478302-7253284988483495246?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7253284988483495246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=7253284988483495246' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7253284988483495246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7253284988483495246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/some-random-things.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Ss97QbQzoaI/AAAAAAAAB8M/9P6UNkvOJAQ/s72-c/DSC_0008.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-9478302.post-2518034100816983808</id><published>2009-10-08T10:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T10:03:44.934-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here is a lesson for you:  If you are peeling beets and a baby comes along and flings the beet peelings out of the trash and all over the kitchen floor, do not wait until you are finished peeling (and after that another hour or so while you try to get said baby to fall asleep) to clean them up.  They will absolutely stain your tile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-2518034100816983808?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2518034100816983808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=2518034100816983808' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/2518034100816983808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/2518034100816983808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/here-is-lesson-for-you-if-you-are.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-2697034489180143641</id><published>2009-10-02T12:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T12:55:39.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quite awhile ago, I started reading a blog called &lt;a href="http://veganlunchbox.blogspot.com/"&gt;Vegan Lunch Box&lt;/a&gt; and then later bought &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vegan-Lunch-Box-Animal-Free-Grown-Ups/dp/1600940722/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1254503758&amp;amp;sr=8-1"&gt;the book&lt;/a&gt; from the same author.  She packs really great lunches for her son in super cute, compartmentalized (Is that a word?) little lunch boxes.  Recently Mothering magazine had an article about moms packing healthy, cute, and waste-free lunches for their kids using this same style of lunch box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got around to ordering one - from &lt;a href="http://www.laptoplunches.com/"&gt;La&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.laptoplunches.com/"&gt;ptop Lunches&lt;/a&gt; - for Emma, and ever since I placed the order, I've been stalking the &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/laptop_lunches/pool/"&gt;Laptop Lunches Flickr group&lt;/a&gt;, ogling all the pictures of lunches packed in this particular lunch box.  The group has almost 1200 members who have posted 8,484 pictures of their lunch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emma's lunch box came last weekend and so far she loves it.  (I do too, maybe even more than she does.)  Every day I've been really excited to pack her lunch, which probably makes me a humongous dork.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsY8ccxLc_I/AAAAAAAAB78/jioXy1rYSpU/s1600-h/DSC_0016.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsY8ccxLc_I/AAAAAAAAB78/jioXy1rYSpU/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388060463651845106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The first day I packed her some &lt;a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2008/11/chickpea-salad-with-roasted-red-peppers/"&gt;Chickpea Salad with Roasted Red Peppers&lt;/a&gt;, raspberries, a kiwi, and carrots with ranch dressing for dipping.  Doesn't it all just look so appetizing in there?&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsY8cxEDedI/AAAAAAAAB8E/6PXE-zM6r6c/s1600-h/DSC_0053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsY8cxEDedI/AAAAAAAAB8E/6PXE-zM6r6c/s400/DSC_0053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388060469099723218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The second day she got &lt;a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2007/08/dorkalicious/"&gt;White Bean Roasted Red Pepper Dip&lt;/a&gt;, multi-grain pita chips, and glazed carrots and green beans that were both leftover from dinner.  I realize that these two lunches are a little redundant, but roasting red peppers is kind of a hassle so I like to get the most for my efforts.  Plus, Emma is a huge fan of anything with red peppers in it, so she was happy with it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told my brother about the Flickr group, he totally scoffed not only at people who are lame enough to take pictures of their lunches, but also at people who are actually interested in looking at them, so I won't torture you with any more pictures.  If, however, anyone reading this is just dying to see more pictures of Emma's lunches, just let me know and I'll be happy to oblige!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-2697034489180143641?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2697034489180143641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=2697034489180143641' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/2697034489180143641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/2697034489180143641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/10/quite-awhile-ago-i-started-reading-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsY8ccxLc_I/AAAAAAAAB78/jioXy1rYSpU/s72-c/DSC_0016.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-3872798800341503745</id><published>2009-09-29T21:52:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T22:14:37.040-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This baseball season, I think we went to eleven or twelve games.  The beginning of the season was pretty fun because we were thinking that maybe, just maybe, the Royals might not be so awful anymore.  But nope.  Still terrible.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsLMkxW6lCI/AAAAAAAAB7k/cVMtiBznDKQ/s1600-h/IMG_1214.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsLMkxW6lCI/AAAAAAAAB7k/cVMtiBznDKQ/s400/IMG_1214.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387093036385342498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last Thursday we went to what will probably be our last game of the season.  I think Noah really actually likes the baseball aspect of being at the game, but I'm pretty sure Emma is mostly in it for the junk food.  Although I'm usually a bit of a stickler about not letting them eat crap, the regular rules don't apply at the baseball games.  Hot dogs, for example, completely gross me out in my regular life and we never eat them, but we get them all the time - and LOVE them - at the ball park.  Look at these two scarfing their cotton candy.  They are complete savages!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsLMlFaYzVI/AAAAAAAAB7s/6_GxgtCCxBY/s1600-h/IMG_1219.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsLMlFaYzVI/AAAAAAAAB7s/6_GxgtCCxBY/s400/IMG_1219.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387093041768615250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Even though the Royals are no good, I'm still sad baseball season is almost over.  And even though their fielding is terrible and they can't hit and they have no speed, I'm still looking forward to next season.  Because maybe, just maybe, that will be the season when we finally aren't terrible.  Go Royals!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsLMvrHPsGI/AAAAAAAAB70/yj058rgMV-Y/s1600-h/IMG_1209.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsLMvrHPsGI/AAAAAAAAB70/yj058rgMV-Y/s400/IMG_1209.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387093223687565410" 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/9478302-3872798800341503745?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3872798800341503745/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=3872798800341503745' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/3872798800341503745'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/3872798800341503745'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-baseball-season-i-think-we-went-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SsLMkxW6lCI/AAAAAAAAB7k/cVMtiBznDKQ/s72-c/IMG_1214.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-6042194282804515920</id><published>2009-09-25T09:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T09:01:06.529-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last week I was trying to think of something to order from Netflix for the kiddos, when I remembered Homeward Bound:  The Incredible Journey.  I saw that when I was little and really liked it, so I figured my kids would too.  We watched it Wednesday afternoon, and both kids surprised me by being &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; scared during the movie.  Noah started crying way before anything actually scary even happened, and pretty much continued to cry fearfully throughout the rest of the movie.  Even though he was apparently so terrified for the pets' safety, he wouldn't let me turn it off.  He continued to torture himself for the entire movie, completely unable to tear himself away.  Then yesterday morning he begged me to watch the "scary dog movie" and even though I tried to talk him out of it, he insisted.  I turned it on, and returned to the living room a few minutes later to find him hiding behind the couch, peering around the corner to watch the TV with one little frightened eye.  I suggested we turn on Mary Poppins instead, and the relief on his face was evident as he shouted, "Yes!  Watch Mary Poppins!"  Unfortunately, I forgot to mail it back yesterday, and this morning he was again pleading to watch the "scary dog movie".  Reluctantly, I turned it on.  He wanted me to sit right next to him so I did, and he still sat there and watched the movie like this.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SrzM-XJLJOI/AAAAAAAAB7U/b9-uGOiQwU4/s1600-h/DSC_0080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SrzM-XJLJOI/AAAAAAAAB7U/b9-uGOiQwU4/s400/DSC_0080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385404626164720866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;About ten minutes in, he couldn't handle the terror anymore so I talked him into turning it off.  Believe me, today I will not forget to send that movie back!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-6042194282804515920?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6042194282804515920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=6042194282804515920' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6042194282804515920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6042194282804515920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/09/last-week-i-was-trying-to-think-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SrzM-XJLJOI/AAAAAAAAB7U/b9-uGOiQwU4/s72-c/DSC_0080.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-9478302.post-7017733801658211834</id><published>2009-09-21T22:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T22:00:48.281-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, I was all set to abandon this poor blog but apparently some people are missing it, so here is an update, lest any of my readers think we all fell off the face of the earth.  After such a long break, I think I should be able to manage at least semi-regular updates now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Srg7rEOekEI/AAAAAAAAB6o/j-5cHy0U_fg/s1600-h/DSC_0001FB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Srg7rEOekEI/AAAAAAAAB6o/j-5cHy0U_fg/s400/DSC_0001FB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384118965576306754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Emma started kindergarten, and I think so far it's a raging success.  I am very pleased with her school so far, and she seems to love it there.  I posted this picture - from her first day of school - on Facebook so everyone reading this might have already seen it, but it's the only one I have of her so far that relates to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Srg75eHJFuI/AAAAAAAAB7I/GOC9KpULlas/s1600-h/DSC_0046crop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Srg75eHJFuI/AAAAAAAAB7I/GOC9KpULlas/s400/DSC_0046crop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384119213043029730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Noah is pretty much the same, still busy busy busy, except now he is also quite the chatterbox.  I love listening to him talk to me all day long.  He is really into shoes these days, and is very particular about which shoes he wears, when.  He never lets a single raindrop fall from the sky without pulling on his rain boots and running outside to play.  Today, pretty much an entire day of rain, was no exception.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Srg74qE8LrI/AAAAAAAAB7A/vt7LM4ctLzQ/s1600-h/DSC_0007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Srg74qE8LrI/AAAAAAAAB7A/vt7LM4ctLzQ/s400/DSC_0007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384119199075151538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This beautiful baby is still wonderfully sweet and cheerful.  She has a new trick that she'll show off with enough coaxing.  I wouldn't call her an honest-to-goodness walker yet, but it probably won't be too much longer until she is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-2c342c3c5524afee" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAO3T1daHheEeH3ZcEQIwEb8rK2qqTgDI7Jm7YH0twKAa3QZ-Xwpk9VuBbtcmH8YDKWJddL_QIca392KxDkHcDygt5VOM3RL4PikVQkGxg_0ge9hxyK5v932039JHIIlZvCnZ_pnfLOEbY5hYegr_148cVHZkqIIvFI_FTR4SRk5GJu9QkG0iU0Ed1h-MF_aZBnBU6K6PJCHqr6nGiGyX-Cc1hjtLkqaSG2FXMZAR_JrG%26sigh%3D3O-DKKJcgHA587MM7YH7SPxGiuk%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D2c342c3c5524afee%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3Dr1onKPyiAZdUGHDFES7KZSP3SF0&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAO3T1daHheEeH3ZcEQIwEb8rK2qqTgDI7Jm7YH0twKAa3QZ-Xwpk9VuBbtcmH8YDKWJddL_QIca392KxDkHcDygt5VOM3RL4PikVQkGxg_0ge9hxyK5v932039JHIIlZvCnZ_pnfLOEbY5hYegr_148cVHZkqIIvFI_FTR4SRk5GJu9QkG0iU0Ed1h-MF_aZBnBU6K6PJCHqr6nGiGyX-Cc1hjtLkqaSG2FXMZAR_JrG%26sigh%3D3O-DKKJcgHA587MM7YH7SPxGiuk%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D2c342c3c5524afee%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3Dr1onKPyiAZdUGHDFES7KZSP3SF0&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-7017733801658211834?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7017733801658211834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=7017733801658211834' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7017733801658211834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7017733801658211834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/09/well-i-was-all-set-to-abandon-this-poor.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Srg7rEOekEI/AAAAAAAAB6o/j-5cHy0U_fg/s72-c/DSC_0001FB.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-5982189393402038892</id><published>2009-05-30T13:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T13:51:20.835-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SiF_Y9mKlaI/AAAAAAAAB6g/w7Ci_9U16h8/s1600-h/DSC_0050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SiF_Y9mKlaI/AAAAAAAAB6g/w7Ci_9U16h8/s400/DSC_0050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341690699866346914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Emma had her preschool graduation ceremony last night, which included receiving a diploma and singing a darling song about summer helping to recharge her batteries and getting a little "R and R".  When my brother asked her what R and R meant, she said it means "when you go to sleep, in the night time".  Personally, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; am looking forward to sleeping in somewhat during the next few months.  Hopefully my children will cooperate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been staying home a lot lately, mostly because I've been trying (somewhat successfully - finally!) to get Noah to be a little more reasonable about nap time.  I've also realized that staying home more has helped us settle into a comfortable routine and I think those relaxed, pleasant days at home are more enjoyable for everyone than rushing around to a bunch of activities.  Anyway, now that Emma is going to be home every day, we will probably have to start getting out more again so she isn't bored silly this summer.  When I asked her what she wants to do this summer, she said, "play school and learn gymnastics".  I think we can handle that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-5982189393402038892?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5982189393402038892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=5982189393402038892' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/5982189393402038892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/5982189393402038892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/05/emma-had-her-preschool-graduation.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SiF_Y9mKlaI/AAAAAAAAB6g/w7Ci_9U16h8/s72-c/DSC_0050.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-9478302.post-6029190915500752674</id><published>2009-05-25T00:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T09:34:53.061-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I realized that I haven't written anything about Allie in awhile, which doesn't seem quite right because she has actually been very busy learning new things.  She has been sprouting teeth, crawling all over the house, and - as of yesterday - pulling herself up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sho2KolQDRI/AAAAAAAAB6A/6t-vAXqLHKg/s1600-h/DSC_0099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sho2KolQDRI/AAAAAAAAB6A/6t-vAXqLHKg/s400/DSC_0099.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339639864521395474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She isn't eating any solid food yet.  I've offered her a few things in the past month - banana, pear, sweet potato, and kiwi - but every time she has thrown her head back and grimaced as though she thinks I'm trying to poison her.  She will gag and spit until the food comes back out, and since she seems to dislike it so much, I'm not going to force the issue.  I'll keep offering occasionally and eventually she'll probably be a little more into it.  For now, I'm certainly not complaining because nursing is so much simpler than dealing with solid food anyway.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Shqscc48AYI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/kKp4nZTv3Uk/s1600-h/DSC_0025a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Shqscc48AYI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/kKp4nZTv3Uk/s400/DSC_0025a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339769912992465282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My mom was here two weeks ago and at one point she watched the kids while I went to Target by myself for an hour or so.  That was my first time away from Allie since her birth so kind of a big deal, but she handled it like a champ.  Then the very next weekend Steve watched the kids (meaning he drove around with them) for two hours while I got a much needed haircut.  So, that means that I had three hours all to myself in one week, which sort of makes me feel like I'm moving out of the stage of being needed by babies all the time and into a stage of having a small amount of personal freedom.  Woo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-6029190915500752674?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6029190915500752674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=6029190915500752674' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6029190915500752674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6029190915500752674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/05/today-i-realized-that-i-havent-written.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sho2KolQDRI/AAAAAAAAB6A/6t-vAXqLHKg/s72-c/DSC_0099.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-9478302.post-6825319037591125660</id><published>2009-05-05T20:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T20:14:00.537-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This stuff is taking over my brain.  I've had Nutella before, but I never actually bought it until last week.  Oh.  My.  It is so amazingly delicious and creamy and fabulous and I can't stop eating it.  At first I was trying to eat it a bunch of different ways - on bagels, on toast, on pancakes, on pretzels, on any kind of fruit - but then I said to heck with that and I just started eating spoonfuls right out of the jar.  When our little regular sized jar was gone, I decided to stop messing around and go for the giant Costco-sized two-pack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf80kTtGMZI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/k1ILlsbe_lQ/s1600-h/DSC_0040.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf80kTtGMZI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/k1ILlsbe_lQ/s400/DSC_0040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332038282199314834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The other night we were walking out the door to go to Cinzetti's and I actually debated stuffing the Nutella in my purse because there was bound to be something there that was just begging to be smeared with it's chocolate-y, hazelnut-y goodness.  In the end I decided I needed to get a grip and left the Nutella at home.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf81EGr7LJI/AAAAAAAAB5o/isQvh2L5MSY/s1600-h/DSC_0036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf81EGr7LJI/AAAAAAAAB5o/isQvh2L5MSY/s400/DSC_0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332038828460551314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This morning it became apparent that the kids have picked up on my obsession.  Emma woke up, immediately walked into the kitchen, and said, "So do you think we should just have Nutella for breakfast?"  Upon hearing her suggestion, Noah actually pumped his fist in the air and shouted, "'Tella!"  Hey, at least they have good taste.  (As evinced by Noah's trying to steal it before I could take a picture.)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf81D-g9dGI/AAAAAAAAB5g/SLGSWnEtme4/s1600-h/DSC_0033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf81D-g9dGI/AAAAAAAAB5g/SLGSWnEtme4/s400/DSC_0033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332038826267079778" 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/9478302-6825319037591125660?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6825319037591125660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=6825319037591125660' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6825319037591125660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6825319037591125660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-stuff-is-taking-over-my-brain.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf80kTtGMZI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/k1ILlsbe_lQ/s72-c/DSC_0040.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-9478302.post-7774934954630619710</id><published>2009-05-03T14:48:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T15:17:43.297-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf36Tgtl_MI/AAAAAAAAB4g/ej_2OJuhgl0/s1600-h/DSC_0015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf36Tgtl_MI/AAAAAAAAB4g/ej_2OJuhgl0/s400/DSC_0015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331692746982161602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yesterday I turned 30 years old.  My family - mainly Steve and Emma - made sure that it was a really great day.  We did fun stuff all day and I also got flowers and many lovely presents.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf36T2kg7JI/AAAAAAAAB4o/7RQt57sTj00/s1600-h/DSC_0020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf36T2kg7JI/AAAAAAAAB4o/7RQt57sTj00/s400/DSC_0020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331692752849661074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thirty seems like kind of an important birthday, and I sort of feel like I'm leaving my youth behind and entering a new period of greater wisdom and maturity.  I guess we'll see if that part actually comes true, but for now it's making me look around and evaluate my life a little bit.  If someone had asked me when I was twenty what I expected to accomplish in the next ten years, I know my answer would have included getting my degree, getting married, having some kids, and staying home to raise those kids.  So now, looking back, I can say with absolute certainly that I'm doing exactly what I always wanted to do.  And seriously, I couldn't be happier.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf37nE6ZvQI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/HM76L8AW1bM/s1600-h/DSC_0012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf37nE6ZvQI/AAAAAAAAB5Q/HM76L8AW1bM/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331694182628703490" 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/9478302-7774934954630619710?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7774934954630619710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=7774934954630619710' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7774934954630619710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/7774934954630619710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/05/yesterday-i-turned-30-years-old.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sf36Tgtl_MI/AAAAAAAAB4g/ej_2OJuhgl0/s72-c/DSC_0015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-8883015853063680036</id><published>2009-04-29T12:44:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T12:54:28.368-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I actually sewed something!  Woo!  I have actually been working on a couple bigger projects here and there, so I guess my excitement should be over actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finishing&lt;/span&gt; something.  Really though, I shouldn't be so quick to pat myself on the back because this shirt could probably be completed in a total of 45 minutes, but it ended up taking me almost two weeks.  Ah well, I'll take what I can get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SfiTm8IFXFI/AAAAAAAAB34/dSMgJjWzsr8/s1600-h/DSC_0068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SfiTm8IFXFI/AAAAAAAAB34/dSMgJjWzsr8/s400/DSC_0068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330172456177327186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She likes it and has already worn it to school twice, out of five days.  I guess that means it's a success.  Now I'm feeling motivated to carve out some more sewing time for myself and actually finish a few more things.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SfiUN2MXGOI/AAAAAAAAB4Q/u3uUwSrEOj4/s1600-h/DSC_0066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SfiUN2MXGOI/AAAAAAAAB4Q/u3uUwSrEOj4/s400/DSC_0066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330173124599552226" 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/9478302-8883015853063680036?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8883015853063680036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=8883015853063680036' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/8883015853063680036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/8883015853063680036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-actually-sewed-something-woo-i-have.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SfiTm8IFXFI/AAAAAAAAB34/dSMgJjWzsr8/s72-c/DSC_0068.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-9478302.post-301817072899498</id><published>2009-04-22T22:54:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T22:54:00.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The weather this week is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;amazing&lt;/span&gt; and we are loving it.  There are so many flowers coming up in our yard that the kids are able to go out and each pick a new bouquet every day.  We have a crazy amount of vases placed around our house, all stuffed with flowers in various stages of vibrancy.  I didn't think "vibrancy" would be a word, but my spell checker isn't flagging it so I'm going with it.  I love how Noah's "bouquets" are really just fistfuls of crumpled petals.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Se06pF06bsI/AAAAAAAAB3E/Bx0YhivReus/s1600-h/DSC_0004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Se06pF06bsI/AAAAAAAAB3E/Bx0YhivReus/s400/DSC_0004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326978411862322882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Moments after I took this picture, but unfortunately after I had already brought my camera back inside, Noah managed to somehow shove one of these dandelions in his mouth.  He grimaced, then opened his mouth and blew out, sending dozens of the little fluffy seeds shooting out into the air.  Too bad for him, the rest stayed and it took him a good ten minutes to get them all out of his mouth. Is it wrong to, every once in awhile, laugh &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at&lt;/span&gt; your kids and not necessarily &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with&lt;/span&gt; them?&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Se06o2cn8FI/AAAAAAAAB28/CUMOp2WFlB0/s1600-h/DSC_0046.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Se06o2cn8FI/AAAAAAAAB28/CUMOp2WFlB0/s400/DSC_0046.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326978407733915730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today we went to the arboretum and Noah was pretty good about only picking the dandelions and nothing else.  He had a handful of them  at all times, with a constant stream of little fluffy particles billowing out behind him as he walked.  When we were getting ready to leave, he proudly handed me a large bundle of mostly naked dandelion stems - all of which are currently displayed in a vase on our kitchen table.  What a sweet, sweet boy.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Se_agO9EepI/AAAAAAAAB3Q/tpexBMJOXNk/s1600-h/DSC_0069.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Se_agO9EepI/AAAAAAAAB3Q/tpexBMJOXNk/s400/DSC_0069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327717131507497618" 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/9478302-301817072899498?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/301817072899498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=301817072899498' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/301817072899498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/301817072899498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/04/weather-this-week-is-amazing-and-we-are.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Se06pF06bsI/AAAAAAAAB3E/Bx0YhivReus/s72-c/DSC_0004.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-9478302.post-3854384813010385863</id><published>2009-04-20T14:14:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T21:36:59.319-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In a surprising turn of events, during the past few weeks Noah has really started to grasp the concept of using the potty.  Some days he will tell me all day when he has to go and I start to (hopefully, joyfully) think that I will only need to be washing diapers for one baby from now on.  Other days, he's not into it and he just wants to wear a diaper all day.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SezZonIe9bI/AAAAAAAAB20/F1USESSLorg/s1600-h/DSC_0045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SezZonIe9bI/AAAAAAAAB20/F1USESSLorg/s400/DSC_0045.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326871750995015090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We had a Parents as Teachers visit last week, and Noah peed in the potty in our living room just as our lady was pulling into our driveway.  Since she was about to walk in the door, I just closed the lid to the potty and reminded myself to dump it out after she left.  About halfway through our visit, we were sitting on the floor chatting.  Her folder of papers was open on the floor behind her.  Before I caught on to what he was doing, Noah picked up his potty, tilted it, and started to walk across the floor.  I jumped up to grab it from him but not before the pee all dribbled out exactly all over the papers on the floor.  Great.  Because who doesn't love to go visit someone and have their stuff get peed on?  When our visit was almost over and I was still trying to recover from the initial embarassment, I got up to go get my calendar to schedule our next visit.  At that moment, Noah came racing down the hall and skidded into the living room.  Determined to show off his lack of potty related social skills, he had apparently pooped and then removed his diaper.  He plopped down on the floor next to our visitor, oblivious to the poop smeared all down his legs.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wonderful.&lt;/span&gt;  Before we could attempt to schedule another appoinment, she grabbed up her stuff, quickly said, "I'll just call you," and escaped out the door.  I'm sure she can't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wait&lt;/span&gt; to come back!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-3854384813010385863?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3854384813010385863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=3854384813010385863' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/3854384813010385863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/3854384813010385863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/04/in-surprising-turn-of-events-during.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SezZonIe9bI/AAAAAAAAB20/F1USESSLorg/s72-c/DSC_0045.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-9478302.post-2567382877871141160</id><published>2009-04-10T12:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T12:36:55.891-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sd-Do0zgXqI/AAAAAAAAB2U/e-5mWh4rlrE/s1600-h/DSC_0018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sd-Do0zgXqI/AAAAAAAAB2U/e-5mWh4rlrE/s400/DSC_0018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323118021967896226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Not much time to write these days, but I wanted to pop in to offer a recommendation for anyone local who doesn't already know about &lt;a href="https://kc.doortodoororganics.com/"&gt;Door to Door Organics&lt;/a&gt;.  You can choose all fruits, all veggies, or a mixture of both and what size box you need.  It's all organic, and local whenever possible.  You can sub up to three things every week, which is good news for me because I am sure that at some point onions will be on the list.  Best of all, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;it's delivered to your house&lt;/span&gt;!  Sweet!  We received our first box last week, filled with beets, celery, avocado, red peppers, oranges, tangelos, romaine lettuce, zucchini, apples, chard, lemons, mango, and strawberries.  Yum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we are taking the kids to Opening Day.  The sun is starting to peek through the clouds and it's going to be a beautiful afternoon.  I am so happy that baseball season is here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a wonderful Easter, everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9478302-2567382877871141160?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/2567382877871141160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=2567382877871141160' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/2567382877871141160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/2567382877871141160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-much-time-to-write-these-days-but-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/Sd-Do0zgXqI/AAAAAAAAB2U/e-5mWh4rlrE/s72-c/DSC_0018.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-9478302.post-6461325578804565178</id><published>2009-03-31T23:01:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T23:24:34.647-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For awhile now, Emma has been asking to get pierced ears.  I kept telling her she could do it when she was older, but she finally wore me down and convinced me that five years &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; old enough.  Still, look at those sweet little un-mutilated earlobes.  I'm going to miss them.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdLr7mJfAsI/AAAAAAAAB2E/IyXAYm_LV_A/s1600-h/DSC_0036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdLr7mJfAsI/AAAAAAAAB2E/IyXAYm_LV_A/s400/DSC_0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319573518963114690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We went to the mall on Sunday to get it done.  I'd heard stories before about little girls who get them pierced one at a time, but freak out after the first one and don't want to get the second one done.  I figured that would be the sort of thing Emma would be likely to do, so I said we were only going to do it if there were two people there to pierce both ears at the same time.  Well, when we got there we tried every single place that does piercing and not a single one had more than one person working.  Against my better judgment, we went ahead and did it anyway, and she completely wowed me with her bravery!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdLrtB_SxYI/AAAAAAAAB10/C_847SfplnI/s1600-h/DSC_0039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdLrtB_SxYI/AAAAAAAAB10/C_847SfplnI/s400/DSC_0039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319573268738524546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She was smiling until the first earring punched through.  After that she looked completely somber, but when Steve asked if she was ready for the next one, she just gave a silent, but determined, nod.  I was completely amazed and impressed with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far I think she likes them and I have to admit they do look pretty darn cute.  Sniff, sniff...my little girl just keeps growing up!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdLrtfZFFzI/AAAAAAAAB18/Q5ihJe3K_jw/s1600-h/DSC_0070.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdLrtfZFFzI/AAAAAAAAB18/Q5ihJe3K_jw/s400/DSC_0070.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319573276631308082" 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/9478302-6461325578804565178?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6461325578804565178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=6461325578804565178' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6461325578804565178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/6461325578804565178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/for-awhile-now-emma-has-been-asking-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdLr7mJfAsI/AAAAAAAAB2E/IyXAYm_LV_A/s72-c/DSC_0036.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9478302.post-4241778807007962925</id><published>2009-03-29T22:46:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T23:22:40.490-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There have been several events of late that I think are blog worthy, but I haven't found the time to actually sit down and write about them.  Hopefully this week I can get all caught up.  But first things first:  Noah turned two years old today!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBIZXLm8RI/AAAAAAAAB1c/jyifm4q4wkM/s1600-h/DSC_0083.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBIZXLm8RI/AAAAAAAAB1c/jyifm4q4wkM/s400/DSC_0083.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318830760481190162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our whole day was unbelievably fun.  We didn't start out planning to do a million fun things; it just ended up that way.  One of the things we did was go sledding - just in time, because by the time we were ready to go back home, a lot of the snow had melted and we were sledding in half grass and half slush.  We were all soaked, but it was warm enough that no one was cold.  Even Noah managed to get completely drenched, even though Steve wrapped his legs in trash bags and his arms in freezer bags to avoid exactly that.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBHKSDn8yI/AAAAAAAAB0k/grNkvV_G0qk/s1600-h/DSC_0049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBHKSDn8yI/AAAAAAAAB0k/grNkvV_G0qk/s400/DSC_0049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318829401895858978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I made Noah a birthday crown, which he loved so much that he wore it all evening, including at dinnertime.  I guess next year when we get it out, we'll laugh about the cheese and ketchup that are smeared all over it.  He also spent a lot of time messing with the train buttons on it so they are all hanging off precariously now.  My plan was that these crowns would last throughout the kids' childhoods, but I'm suspecting Noah's may not make it that long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBHK-KlpwI/AAAAAAAAB00/5SpoX_kujRQ/s1600-h/DSC_0135.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBHK-KlpwI/AAAAAAAAB00/5SpoX_kujRQ/s400/DSC_0135.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318829413736228610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We are planning to get him a train table to set up in the basement but we couldn't find a good one today so we just got him a little circle of track and two trains for now, which he absolutely loved.  After he opened them, he sat on the floor pushing the train around and around and saying "Choo chooooo!" until it was time to go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBIZpIw8wI/AAAAAAAAB1k/Tc6uUeQVaF4/s1600-h/DSC_0137.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBIZpIw8wI/AAAAAAAAB1k/Tc6uUeQVaF4/s400/DSC_0137.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318830765301101314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Right now he is sound asleep in bed with Steve, still wearing his crown and clutching his trains in both hands.  Happy birthday, my sweet boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBHS7rIYPI/AAAAAAAAB1E/AkWE_nGKGN8/s1600-h/DSC_0166.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBHS7rIYPI/AAAAAAAAB1E/AkWE_nGKGN8/s400/DSC_0166.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318829550506369266" 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/9478302-4241778807007962925?l=naptimemusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4241778807007962925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9478302&amp;postID=4241778807007962925' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/4241778807007962925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9478302/posts/default/4241778807007962925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://naptimemusings.blogspot.com/2009/03/there-have-been-several-events-of-late.html' title=''/><author><name>Sarah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063894510131586888</uri><email>naptimemusings@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='04951199468071760620'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d-MR7Goe1i8/SdBIZXLm8RI/AAAAAAAAB1c/jyifm4q4wkM/s72-c/DSC_0083.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry></feed>