<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968</id><updated>2012-01-18T07:38:53.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Times</title><subtitle type='html'>Some days are better than others</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>60</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-1496818407562530512</id><published>2009-02-01T15:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T15:45:45.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Sorry Blogger.</title><content type='html'>If anyone needs me, I'll be over at Facebook.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-1496818407562530512?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/1496818407562530512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=1496818407562530512' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/1496818407562530512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/1496818407562530512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-sorry-blogger.html' title='I&apos;m Sorry Blogger.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-8763207410391226052</id><published>2008-12-21T12:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T12:39:06.799-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you Aunt Donna!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SU6oxUc1Y6I/AAAAAAAAALc/BBittcO9Grs/s1600-h/misc+027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SU6oxUc1Y6I/AAAAAAAAALc/BBittcO9Grs/s400/misc+027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282344978208875426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SU6oK4vOFUI/AAAAAAAAALU/OpEtjvWlYuw/s1600-h/misc+025.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SU6oK4vOFUI/AAAAAAAAALU/OpEtjvWlYuw/s400/misc+025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282344317934769474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SU6nooq_III/AAAAAAAAALM/Jl32xFH2elI/s1600-h/misc+019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SU6nooq_III/AAAAAAAAALM/Jl32xFH2elI/s400/misc+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282343729506492546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-8763207410391226052?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/8763207410391226052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=8763207410391226052' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8763207410391226052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8763207410391226052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/12/thank-you-aunt-donna.html' title='Thank you Aunt Donna!!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SU6oxUc1Y6I/AAAAAAAAALc/BBittcO9Grs/s72-c/misc+027.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-207391926930008558</id><published>2008-12-08T04:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T05:53:32.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Joaquin Phoenix or Fletcher?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/ST0TxxOTsAI/AAAAAAAAAIc/59R9JPd0vJw/s1600-h/Ice+056.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/ST0TxxOTsAI/AAAAAAAAAIc/59R9JPd0vJw/s400/Ice+056.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277396084095954946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/ST0ULPAwOJI/AAAAAAAAAIk/6G-9J36inMA/s1600-h/Ice+059.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/ST0ULPAwOJI/AAAAAAAAAIk/6G-9J36inMA/s400/Ice+059.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277396521588897938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stocking holders are EVIL!!!! If only PEACE ended in an F because that is why Fletcher was pullng his off the mantle- he "wanted an F for Fletcher". Thankfully the great doctor at Acute Kids Care glued him back together. Nothing a little Mederma can't eventually fix, right?!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-207391926930008558?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/207391926930008558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=207391926930008558' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/207391926930008558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/207391926930008558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/12/joaquine-phoenix-or-fletcher.html' title='Joaquin Phoenix or Fletcher?'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/ST0TxxOTsAI/AAAAAAAAAIc/59R9JPd0vJw/s72-c/Ice+056.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-2641240164477819096</id><published>2008-11-22T10:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T10:33:04.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He doesn't need any help.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SShNpVpYTUI/AAAAAAAAAIU/v3thR0ME66k/s1600-h/229.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SShNpVpYTUI/AAAAAAAAAIU/v3thR0ME66k/s400/229.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271548736417844546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Cali, please help your brother go to the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;Fletcher: I dont't need any help! I can do it myself! Watch and        learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a little punk!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-2641240164477819096?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/2641240164477819096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=2641240164477819096' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2641240164477819096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2641240164477819096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/11/he-doesnt-need-any-help.html' title='He doesn&apos;t need any help.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SShNpVpYTUI/AAAAAAAAAIU/v3thR0ME66k/s72-c/229.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-7859267127030269002</id><published>2008-11-21T13:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T13:19:04.156-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whatever.</title><content type='html'>The Book Character Parade judges can suck it! Cali was robbed! Unfortunately she did not win for grade. (Apparently I am not only competitive but a sore loser as well)&lt;br /&gt;I think next year I will be bribing the kids with cash to not participate in this event. I don't know if I have it in me to do it another year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-7859267127030269002?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/7859267127030269002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=7859267127030269002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7859267127030269002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7859267127030269002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/11/whatever.html' title='Whatever.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-2311154641880423968</id><published>2008-11-21T08:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T09:23:09.752-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We MUST Win!!!</title><content type='html'>I have never been a particularly competitive person. That all changed when I had kids. Today was the Book Character Parade at Cali and Macey's school. Everybody dresses up as a character from a book and all the parents come and they have a little parade. Each class votes for the person with the best costume, and then each class winner goes before a panel of judges where they are asked a bunch of questions about their book, and one person from each grade is awarded Grand Champion. At least one of my kids wins every year. I have serious panic attacks each year because I feel so much pressure to come up with something creative and unique. This year was no exception. Macey decided to go as the girl from the book "Today I Feel Silly". &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSbguotXp1I/AAAAAAAAAIE/brRKQS-0XGk/s1600-h/005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSbguotXp1I/AAAAAAAAAIE/brRKQS-0XGk/s320/005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271147505690060626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a fairly easy costume to create since we had most of the dress up clothes already. Everyone thought she was wearing a wig, but only someone that is in it to win it spends an hour rolling up strand after strand of hair in tiny rollers. I thought she looked so cute. She tied for first place in the class division but lost after a re-vote. Whatever. Cali was the best. She looks exactly like "Velma Gratch and the Way Cool Butterfly". &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSbhvFuEXYI/AAAAAAAAAIM/9dr27ZvDNMI/s1600-h/002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSbhvFuEXYI/AAAAAAAAAIM/9dr27ZvDNMI/s320/002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271148612989246850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up 3 times in the middle of the night in a cold sweat worrying about getting her hair to stay out. That's normal, right? She won for her class and I am now waiting on results from the grade...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-2311154641880423968?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/2311154641880423968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=2311154641880423968' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2311154641880423968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2311154641880423968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/11/we-must-win.html' title='We MUST Win!!!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSbguotXp1I/AAAAAAAAAIE/brRKQS-0XGk/s72-c/005.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-4048337391808278601</id><published>2008-11-16T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T07:25:01.791-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Fight Win</title><content type='html'>I really love living in Texas. It has been a great place to raise my family. I love my neighborhood and I love my kids' school. I love the shopping and the food. And the people here are the friendliest I have ever met. So far we have avoided ever saying the word ya'll, never gone to a rodeo, and have yet to cheer on the Cowboys. One thing we have not avoided though is the whole crazy cheerleading thing. Before I moved here I thought cheerleading consisted of showing up to some Friday night football games wearing a short skirt with matching sweater, doing a lot of jumping up and down, and shouting "rah rah" every now and then. I was so wrong. Cheeleading is serious business here. Perhaps the most competitive, dangerous, and obnoxious sport there is. I had no idea. So when my girls decided they wanted to do competitive cheer I thought it sounded like fun. They belong to a gym that is very small and everyone who tries out makes the team. There are only 12 girls on the team and when they started Macey was the youngest at 4 and the oldest girl was 9. There were some girls that could not even do a cartwheel, and some that could do back handsprings. Their first routine was so simple and cute, and the girls could not wait to perform it in front of a crowd. Their uniforms were even more simple and make up consisted of lip gloss. All of us moms made cute little signs to hold up. Someone may have even brought a clapper or two. We had no idea what to expect at a competition. I don't think anything could have prepared me for what we were getting ourselves into. &lt;br /&gt;Let me try and paint the picture. A cheer competition usually takes place in a college gymnasium or community center with stadium seating. In the middle of the floor is a very large spring floor with a curtain behind it which blocks the whole back half of the gym.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGGqe6mqrI/AAAAAAAAAHU/ID_uXxtRKII/s1600-h/238.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGGqe6mqrI/AAAAAAAAAHU/ID_uXxtRKII/s320/238.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269641103411686066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In front of the spring floor sits 4 rows of tables where the judges sit. There is a small area to the side where the music is played and the performing team's coaches stand. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGF36ryuBI/AAAAAAAAAHM/W5uSyAil8AQ/s1600-h/237.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGF36ryuBI/AAAAAAAAAHM/W5uSyAil8AQ/s320/237.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269640234692425746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stands are filled with crazy cheer parents, most of which are wearing head to toe gym colors. There are a lot of moms with big hair, and a lot of dads that wear camouflage. Our little posters and clappers were a joke. Other signs consist of feather boa and lots and lots of glitter. And people get very creative with the noise makers. Lots of teams bring blocks of wood that they clap together, or have filled up plastic bottles with beads that they shake. There are usually 4 or 5 bullhorns, and always a siren or two. It is so loud in there. The most disturbing part of the whole cheer experience to me is what some of the teams wear. The skirts are so short that booties are hanging out, with shirts that only cover the girlie parts.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGLzveDwFI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aAFgGBKR-_Y/s1600-h/245.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGLzveDwFI/AAAAAAAAAH0/aAFgGBKR-_Y/s320/245.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269646760032321618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Hair and make up are unbelievable. Lots of hair pieces. And lots of glitter. I don't know what bothers me more- when I see it on a teenager or on a 3 year old. It's crazy. I walk around all day just people watching. It is very entertaining. And I am still shocked at every competition.&lt;br /&gt;Our first year was a learning experience. The girls loved it but they never won. Last year they worked really hard and went all the way to Battle of the Champions in Georgia where they won first place. This year they decided to go up a level, which, after yesterday (they got 10th place) we may have to reevaluate. It is a little bit out of their skill level. They stuck their routine but do not have hard enough stunts to compete. I am happy to say that the gym they go to believes in modesty and building self esteem, so we have never had to deal with somebody not making the team, or feeling uncomfortable in a uniform. I am really proud of my girls for how hard they work. And I am glad they have something they love to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGHah4qnyI/AAAAAAAAAHc/hxEEBRxoNGc/s1600-h/249.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGHah4qnyI/AAAAAAAAAHc/hxEEBRxoNGc/s320/249.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269641928842583842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This is all of the level 2 teams getting ready for awards)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGIWyrVVJI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Wci2veJK4YE/s1600-h/251.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGIWyrVVJI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Wci2veJK4YE/s320/251.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269642964142216338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(after the competition)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGJCyIGaTI/AAAAAAAAAHs/O3uw4LVqNBM/s1600-h/256.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGJCyIGaTI/AAAAAAAAAHs/O3uw4LVqNBM/s320/256.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269643719908682034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Yes. We colored Fletcher's hair.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-4048337391808278601?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/4048337391808278601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=4048337391808278601' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4048337391808278601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4048337391808278601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/11/go-fight-win.html' title='Go Fight Win'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SSGGqe6mqrI/AAAAAAAAAHU/ID_uXxtRKII/s72-c/238.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5916266575304624962</id><published>2008-11-09T16:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T06:34:03.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>Ok, ok. So I'm not an "everyday" blogger. I am fine with being an "every once in a while" blogger. The important thing is that I update every so often- or at least often enough that my mom and Shannon get off my damn back about posting some pictures. So here is the update:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fletcher had his last soccer game of the season on Saturday and here are the stats: Games won- 8&lt;br /&gt;Goals scored by our team- 127&lt;br /&gt;Goals scored on our team- 2&lt;br /&gt;Goals scored by Fletcher- 0&lt;br /&gt;Times Fletcher actually touched the ball- 5&lt;br /&gt;Out of those 5, times kicked in the right direction- 2&lt;br /&gt;Times Fletcher told me what a great soccer player he is- too many to count.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was so funny to watch because he literally just ran up and down the field as far away from the ball as he could possibly get. The very first time he touched the ball it was only because someone kicked it directly into his shins. That counts in our book. I am happy to take a break until next season- it is a little bit of a beating watching kids at this age play any sport. Go Junkyard Dogs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had quite the Halloween this year. Cali was the cutest 50's girl with her yellow poodle skirt, Macey was the best Harajuku girl even though no one knew what she was, and Fletcher owned his hamburger (NOT cheeseburger) costume. I swear he put it on and actually became a hamburger. Every year we have friends over and eat jack-o-lantern shaped pizzas before we head out to go trick-or-treating. About 10 houses into candy begging, Macey comes up to me and tells me that she is ready to go home. I made her push through for a few more houses until I finally realized that she didn't feel good. She had a fever and said her throat hurt. I sent Cali on with her friends and the rest of us got in the car and headed to the kid's urgent care. Yep. Strep throat. The good news is we were in and out of that place. Not a lot of kids at the doctor on Halloween night. So to bed she went. And Fletcher too. Apparently trick-or-treating really took a lot out of him. He kept complaining that his legs hurt from walking so much and his arms were sore from carrying his bag of 10 pieces of candy. Note to self: start pushing Fletcher down to try and toughen him up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SRhE4t8EytI/AAAAAAAAAG8/gXHi__SZi6k/s1600-h/015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SRhE4t8EytI/AAAAAAAAAG8/gXHi__SZi6k/s400/015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267035505404725970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cali and Macey have a cheer competition next weekend and they are busy practicing for that. They have yet to do the routine to the music and have not been able to hit a stunt, but I have been assured that it will all come together by Saturday. I'm pretty sure it won't. Entertaining blog to follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben started playing ice hockey and I am so excited he has found something he loves to do. I have yet to see a game because his games are at 11:00 at night but I believe him when he says he "has a hockey game". As long as his fingers all stay in tact it's all good. Another note to self: make sure disability insurance is current.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for myself, I took a couple of weeks off from running due to burn out, and am now paying the price. It's like starting over which is good and bad. All my runs seem very hard now, but I also love that I "feel it" again. It was a much needed break for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that just about sums up the last month at the Edmunds house. I am counting down the days until my family comes for Thanksgiving. It's always a good time when we all get together. Especially when lots and lots of food is involved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5916266575304624962?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5916266575304624962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5916266575304624962' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5916266575304624962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5916266575304624962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/11/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SRhE4t8EytI/AAAAAAAAAG8/gXHi__SZi6k/s72-c/015.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5796061136189355994</id><published>2008-09-21T12:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T12:49:56.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's A Good Thing He's Cute!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SNajb-tEh4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/Wg4V92pybR0/s1600-h/blog+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SNajb-tEh4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/Wg4V92pybR0/s320/blog+006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248562116830726018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SNajF2BTHII/AAAAAAAAAGk/x_6Hr4Twd8g/s1600-h/blog+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SNajF2BTHII/AAAAAAAAAGk/x_6Hr4Twd8g/s320/blog+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248561736542526594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 15 minutes of begging and bribing, Fletcher finally played in his first soccer game today. Apparently soccer is only fun when you shoot at a pretend goal (usually the front door) and you score every time. Poor thing was not prepared for other kids coming up and taking the ball from him. Welcome to the real world little man. Go Junkyard Dogs!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5796061136189355994?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5796061136189355994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5796061136189355994' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5796061136189355994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5796061136189355994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-good-thing-hes-cute.html' title='It&apos;s A Good Thing He&apos;s Cute!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SNajb-tEh4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/Wg4V92pybR0/s72-c/blog+006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-3326409012008299924</id><published>2008-09-15T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T13:56:11.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM7Kf2yLT3I/AAAAAAAAAGc/tKcBsD4IIyQ/s1600-h/blog+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM7Kf2yLT3I/AAAAAAAAAGc/tKcBsD4IIyQ/s320/blog+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246353264563933042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM7KIsduknI/AAAAAAAAAGU/r5f0ntRzr-w/s1600-h/blog+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM7KIsduknI/AAAAAAAAAGU/r5f0ntRzr-w/s320/blog+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246352866656817778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is how I spent my day today- putting snacks and beverages in perfect rows. This is how I spend every Monday. I go to the grocery store (if you think this is OCD then you should see how I have to line up my groceries on the scanner belt), and then come home and do laundry which consists of putting outfit after outfit in Ziploc baggies. It's exhausting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-3326409012008299924?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/3326409012008299924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=3326409012008299924' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3326409012008299924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3326409012008299924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-this-is-how-i-spent-my-day-today.html' title=''/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM7Kf2yLT3I/AAAAAAAAAGc/tKcBsD4IIyQ/s72-c/blog+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6163327850285823684</id><published>2008-09-15T07:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T07:57:37.746-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trick or Treat</title><content type='html'>Mid September always brings the dreaded question of "What do you want to be for Halloween this year?". Dreaded because anyone who knows me knows that I can't just A. let my kids be whatever they want to be because it is usually not cute enough- or in Macey's case usually too frightening or slutty-or both- for a young child to wear, and B. purchase a costume that comes in a bag. Or if it does come in a bag I have to tweak it somehow so that they don't look like every other kid out begging for candy. I have a very hard time not making a big production out of most things I do that involves my kids. It must be in my genes because Shannon (Katalyn) is the same way. Go big or go home, right? So yesterday marked the first of many Halloween costume discussions. Cali is going to be a 50's girl with a yellow poodle skirt (the skirt HAS to be yellow), and Macey is going to be a Harajuku girl. However, Fletcher cannot decide on what he wants to be. We have narrowed it down to 3 and he is willing to let the blogging world decide his Halloween fate. Before I announce the 3 choices I need to mention the costumes that he wanted that were vetoed: Ariel from the little mermaid, the movie star princess, the giant mask that is as big as his whole body, and the ladybug. Ok. Moving on.&lt;br /&gt;Here are the nominees:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Scooby Doo &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM50q6nge-I/AAAAAAAAAF0/Xu1QsCULifs/s1600-h/scooby+doo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM50q6nge-I/AAAAAAAAAF0/Xu1QsCULifs/s200/scooby+doo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246258896571497442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Ironman (which Ben took him to see...bad parenting, I know.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM51QeSC-wI/AAAAAAAAAF8/r1CwdjkXYgg/s1600-h/ironman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM51QeSC-wI/AAAAAAAAAF8/r1CwdjkXYgg/s200/ironman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246259541800319746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Superman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM510P8n_BI/AAAAAAAAAGM/8DuMmqVnNIo/s1600-h/superman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM510P8n_BI/AAAAAAAAAGM/8DuMmqVnNIo/s200/superman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246260156427664402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it. If you have an opinion feel free to post. 6 weeks and counting... On my list of things to do today- find a yellow poodle skirt and a tiny hat for Harajuku girl. It could be a long day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6163327850285823684?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6163327850285823684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6163327850285823684' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6163327850285823684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6163327850285823684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/09/mid-september-always-brings-dreaded.html' title='Trick or Treat'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SM50q6nge-I/AAAAAAAAAF0/Xu1QsCULifs/s72-c/scooby+doo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-8653988859662777335</id><published>2008-09-13T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T17:41:56.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fresh Start</title><content type='html'>With school back in session I feel like I can finally breathe again. I absolutely love having my kids home with me all summer, and the first day of school always brings tears to my eyes. I have no problem admitting that I stalk my kids on the playground from my car for the first 3 days. It's a little creepy, I know, but whatever. Now that we are back in a routine I have no good excuse for not writing. I have been in a blogging slump for a while and am really trying hard to suck it up. I want to be the kind of person that cares about blogging. I do. I will try harder. Let's just call this the start of a new and improved blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an interesting conversation with Cali tonight about her name. I was curious as to whether or not she liked her name. Luckily she does. Apparently she LOVES her name. As a parent that is nice to hear. A lot of energy and thought goes in to naming a child so it would have been a little devastating if she had said she did not like her name. But being a girl I knew that deep down she wished she had a different name. When I was her age I really wished my name was Crystal. That's right. Crystal. Crystal was so much cooler than Sharalyn. And when I talked to Shannon the other day she revealed that she wished her name was Katalyn- pronounced Kate-A Lyn. And then she would have gone by Kat for short. How different life could have been...? So I knew deep down Cali had an alias. When I asked her she got a funny grin on her face- like how did I know? Her name? Emily. Interesting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**The goal for the next blog will be to include pictures. Baby steps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-8653988859662777335?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/8653988859662777335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=8653988859662777335' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8653988859662777335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8653988859662777335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/09/fresh-start.html' title='Fresh Start'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-3426977475016516107</id><published>2008-06-22T15:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T16:05:37.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend O' Fun</title><content type='html'>Ben's family invited us to go to Atlanta, Ga. for a little weekend at the lake. Ben and I decided that it would be fun to make it a road trip. Only 12 hours there and another 12 hours back- how bad could it be? We also decided that we should rent a mini van for this trip because it gets better gas mileage and we didn't really want to put the miles on our cars. So Wednesday morning I pick up the van. I opted not to get the insurance and spent an excessive amount of time looking around the car making sure to write down every last bump and scrape on the car so that we can't be blamed for anything. I spend all day packing and getting everything ready to go. Clothes, check. Toys, check, Movies, check. And food, check. We are off. It is 4:30 pm and very trafficy. About 6 miles out of our neighborhood BAM! We end up in a 5 car pile up. We are car number 4. The car behind us never hit their brakes. It was very scary. It took a minute for it all to sink in. Cali and Macey were a bit hysterical and I had to actually yell at them to calm down for them to realize we were all ok. We all get out of the car and wait for the police to arrive. Did I mention that it was 95 degrees outside? 50 minutes later (yes, 5-0) the police show up and get everything sorted out. The lady in front of us has no driver's license, no insurance, and did not speak English. This should be fun for the insurance companies to settle. I was figuring our trip was over at this point but the nice people at Avis tell me they will send another van to the house and sure enough by the time we got home there was another van waiting for us. We re-pack the new van. It is 8 pm now as we give this tip another whirl. Just a few hours behind schedule. So we're driving along and things are going great. The kids are sleeping and I am full of energy because I think I am still on an adrenalin rush from the accident. What else could go wrong, right? Well at 10 1/2 hours into the trip I decide to pull over and let Ben drive the rest of the way. I'm feeling a little bit sleepy. We stop in Lincoln, Alabama. It is a tiny town with one gas station. We get out and let the kids go to the bathroom. As we are putting the kids back in Ben lifts the back of the van up to put something away. Next thing I know he is walking to the front of the van with his hands covering his head and blood is just GUSHING from under his hands. He says he hit his head and it is pretty bad and we need to call someone. I run in the gas station and tell them to call an ambulance. Ben is ghostly white and about to pass out. He sits down and I hand him Fletcher's t-shirt to stop the bleeding. He bleeds through that in seconds. The ladies inside the gas station come out with a towel and he is able to get some good pressure on his head. There is blood everywhere- all over his face and down his arms, down his legs, puddles on the ground. I have never seen this much blood. The girls are freaked out. I am freaked out. Ben is freaked out. It takes the ambulance 15 minutes to show up. They look at his head and tell us that he has a pretty big wound and needs to go to the hospital to have it looked at. The hospital is 8 miles back down the road. To save a little money I opt to take him there myself. So now we are sitting in this tiny hospital in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. I call Ben's mom to come get us. He goes back to get worked on while the kids and I try to eat some breakfast that consisted of red bull and M&amp;Ms. Luckily we beat the rush in the ER and it only took an hour for Ben to get his head stapled shut. Apparently there is a really sharp corner on the back of the van and he hit it just right and really hard. This is a picture of the damage: &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SF7X4L56r9I/AAAAAAAAAFM/kIT68X5ICPA/s1600-h/70F9F19A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SF7X4L56r9I/AAAAAAAAAFM/kIT68X5ICPA/s320/70F9F19A.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214842778809970642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a little hard to see the staples but trust me- they're disgusting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Ben's parents meet us to help us drive the rest of the way. I have never been so happy to see two people in my whole life. We actually had a fun trip once we got there. And the drive home was incident free. Unless you count Cali throwing up once and Fletcher peeing in his car seat incidences. I must say I am happy to be home. And I'm pretty sure there will not be another road trip in the near future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-3426977475016516107?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/3426977475016516107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=3426977475016516107' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3426977475016516107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3426977475016516107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/06/bens-family-invited-us-to-go-to-atlanta.html' title='Weekend O&apos; Fun'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SF7X4L56r9I/AAAAAAAAAFM/kIT68X5ICPA/s72-c/70F9F19A.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-4080120609134378564</id><published>2008-06-02T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T13:52:11.027-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slowman</title><content type='html'>So the other day I took Cali and Macey and their cousin Bella to get their nails done. They were all very excited and each one seemed very particular as to which colors they wanted and what design they were going to get. Half way through Cali's pedi, her nail girl (we'll call her Ming) asks her a question. I can see on Cali's face that she has no idea what Ming is saying so I go over and try to translate. I believe she said "She want ma vi ba?". My answer: "huh?". Again Ming says "She want ma vi ba?". And again I answer with "huh?". It is at this point that Ming calls over Macey's nail boy (we'll call him Vee) to help translate. She talks to him in Vietnamese and then he says to me, "does she want chocona on her toes?". My answer: "huh?". And once again he repeats, "does she want chocona on her toes?". My answer this time: "Sure. She can do whatever she wants." I still had no clue as to what they were talking about. I figured she was asking if she could paint some kind of flower on her toes but I know she knew the word flower so I was very confused. But Ming got back to work and spent a tremendous amount of time working on Cali's big toes. After about 45 minute passed I went over to see what she could possibly have been painting. This is what it was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SERNnB5oQ2I/AAAAAAAAAFE/sn1maClBYLE/s1600-h/041.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SERNnB5oQ2I/AAAAAAAAAFE/sn1maClBYLE/s320/041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207372402067522402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's normal to have snowmen on your toes in June, right? The best part of this story is that after I saw what was on there I said "Oh! You mean snowman." And then Vee starts laughing hysterically. He starts talking in Vietnamese to Ming and then they both start laughing. A few more nail girls come over and look at Cali's toes and talk in their language and then all of them laugh and laugh. Finally I said "Hi. Um, what is so funny?" Apparently Ming was trying to say snowman in Vietnamese but was actually saying sLowman. They all thought it was hilarious. And I still have no idea what chocoma is. But I am sure it is equally as funny. Merry Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. And yes, Cali does have freakishly long toes. I get it, Shannon. They look like fingers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-4080120609134378564?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/4080120609134378564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=4080120609134378564' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4080120609134378564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4080120609134378564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/06/slowman.html' title='Slowman'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SERNnB5oQ2I/AAAAAAAAAFE/sn1maClBYLE/s72-c/041.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-7754595052550933730</id><published>2008-05-27T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T18:23:45.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>V and V</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SDy0C6XyQZI/AAAAAAAAAE0/D8cbS-rWEOg/s1600-h/robbie.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SDy0C6XyQZI/AAAAAAAAAE0/D8cbS-rWEOg/s320/robbie.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205233231455207826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top 10 moments from the weekend in random order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Robbie insulting Shannon within 30 seconds of getting off the plane. We're moving on.&lt;br /&gt;2. Russ and Suzy's story about ding dong ditching.&lt;br /&gt;3. $100&lt;br /&gt;4. Trampoline time.&lt;br /&gt;5. The funeral story.&lt;br /&gt;6. Walking upstairs to find that Fletcher and Macey have woken up our guest, and Fletcher saying "Robbie is a stupid name". &lt;br /&gt;7. Everybody in the pool whether you want to or not- jeans AND apron!&lt;br /&gt;8. Robbie telling me that the first time he ever talked to me I was dressed up like a bumble bee. For the record, I have NEVER been dressed up like a bumble bee.&lt;br /&gt;9. CPK and Robbie Rd.&lt;br /&gt;10. Birthday Bandits&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for coming, Robbie. It was very fun getting to know you in person. And you made it home with all of your limbs. Impressive. Good times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-7754595052550933730?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/7754595052550933730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=7754595052550933730' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7754595052550933730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7754595052550933730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/05/v-and-v.html' title='V and V'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SDy0C6XyQZI/AAAAAAAAAE0/D8cbS-rWEOg/s72-c/robbie.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-4787732045286023012</id><published>2008-05-20T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T09:46:15.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?</title><content type='html'>So yesterday my girls informed me that it is College Week at school. This means that one day they get to wear a hat with a college logo on it, one day a shirt- you get the idea. This is the conversation that took place:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cali: Mom- we need to get some shirts and hats and stuff for college week.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ok. I'll have Dad take you later.&lt;br /&gt;Macey: Mom- what college did you go to?&lt;br /&gt;Cali: Mom didn't finish college. &lt;br /&gt;Macey: Really? &lt;br /&gt;Cali: Yeah. And besides, the school she did go to for a little bit doesn't even have shirts or hats. It wasn't a real college.&lt;br /&gt;Me: (sad face) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after sad face I proceeded to prove to my kids that I am still smart even though I may not have finished college. There is nothing worse than your own kids making you feel dumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wouldn't have mattered if I had college shirts for my kids to wear anyway because apparently my kids are total kiss butts at school and HAD to have shirts and hats from schools that their teachers went to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-4787732045286023012?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/4787732045286023012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=4787732045286023012' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4787732045286023012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4787732045286023012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/05/are-you-smarter-than-5th-grader.html' title='Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5716995067226643141</id><published>2008-05-17T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T08:11:34.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just the Beginning</title><content type='html'>At 7:04 pm there was a knock on our door. It wasn't a salesman. And it wasn't the weird little girl that lives next door that watches us from her bedroom window while we swim hoping she can come over and swim too. No. It was worse. It was a boy from Cali's class that lives in our neighborhood. He wanted to know if Cali and Macey could come out and play! Like actually go outside and play. Without me. It was a gorgeous night and there were lots of kids outside playing. But why do mine have to be out there? They are nice and safe in my house- with me. I just wasn't expecting to have to make this kind of decision tonight. A little heads up would have been nice. Then I could have come up with an excuse as to why they need to stay home and play in the backyard. At what age should kids be aloud to play alone outside? I don't have a good answer. I've decided I don't want to be a responsible adult any more. But since I don't have a choice here is what I did. I walked the girls down to where everyone was playing and scoped out the scene. It was only 6 houses down, but it felt like a world away. It appeared to be innocent enough. I hung out for a little bit trying to act cool. Like I fit in or something. And then I took a deep breath and turned to the girls, at which time I threatened to take away all of their Webkinz if they even thought about leaving that area, or talking to a stranger, or going in the street, or going in some one's house. And then I told them that they had 15minutes to play and that I would be back to walk them home. And I walked away without looking back. Actually, I spied on them from the upstairs bedroom. When their 15 minutes was up I went and got them. I think it went pretty well. Maybe next time they can stay for 16 minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5716995067226643141?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5716995067226643141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5716995067226643141' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5716995067226643141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5716995067226643141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/05/just-beginning.html' title='Just the Beginning'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-7665118337390866977</id><published>2008-05-12T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T10:59:25.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>My favorite part of Mother's Day is reading the cards my kids make me at school. This year may have exceeded my expectations. I got 3 cards from Macey. The first one is a story titled "Me and My Amazing Mom". Don't let the title confuse you. It's really a story about shopping for a Father's Day gift for Ben. The second card is a fill in the blank page called "Top 10 Reasons Why I Love My Mom". Apparently my job consists of shopping and taking care of Fletcher. That's about right. And the third card is called "My Mother's Portrait". It has a computer drawn picture of me on the top and then underneath it has my stats. Name: Sharalyn, age: 32, height: 5.8 feet 5 inches, weight: 84 pounds (love this kid), hair: brown, likes: to clean the house, job: take care of Fletcher, favorite drink: diet coke, food: chicken pot pie and salad (I throw up at the smell of a chicken pot pie), favorite TV show: America's Next Top Model (never watch it), More likes: again, clean the house, cook, and go shopping. I think I need to cut back on cleaning the house so much. &lt;br /&gt;Cali's cards were the best. I got a book of poems that she wrote. I need to share two of them: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mommy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is very sweet.&lt;br /&gt;She is super neat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am her biggest fan.&lt;br /&gt;She will never hit a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is a runner girl.&lt;br /&gt;She likes it when I twirl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She does not like it when I crunch and munch.&lt;br /&gt;My mother loves flowers in a bunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the second one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Mom Is&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is caring and loving.&lt;br /&gt;But she is not evil.&lt;br /&gt;She likes coke and pedicures.&lt;br /&gt;But does not like skydiving.&lt;br /&gt;She is happy when we will not fight and we give her things.&lt;br /&gt;But, she is not happy when we lie.&lt;br /&gt;She loves her family and her parents.&lt;br /&gt;But she does not love cats.&lt;br /&gt;If my mom could do anything she would run and cook.&lt;br /&gt;But she would not punish me by throwing a ball at my face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my kids and I love being their mom. There is nothing I would rather do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-7665118337390866977?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/7665118337390866977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=7665118337390866977' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7665118337390866977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7665118337390866977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-favorite-part-of-mothers-day-is.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-4188443712220282806</id><published>2008-05-03T06:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T07:23:43.578-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simi Pride</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBx1YI0zinI/AAAAAAAAAEs/2pzg0v12KUA/s1600-h/jeff+and+amy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBx1YI0zinI/AAAAAAAAAEs/2pzg0v12KUA/s320/jeff+and+amy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196157127624985202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was explaining this whole blogging thing to a friend of mine and it got me thinking about how lucky I am to have grown up in a place like Simi Valley. It is crazy how a town of 100,000 plus has such a small town feel. Even though I moved away a long time ago I still feel this sense of loyalty to to anyone from there. It's like an exclusive club. There is a sense of humor that only people from Simi get. So it is at this time I would like to introduce another member to our blogging family. Please welcome home Jeff Barlow and his wife Amy. Amy is cool just for marrying someone from Simi. They have lived here in the Plano area for the last 4 or 5 years, and Amy and I were immediate friends. She even laughed the first time I explained to her how intertwined all of our lives are. You see, Jeff used to stalk me in high school (you know you did, Jeff), but dated Shannon for a while in college. And Jeff and Robbie are friends even though they had not been introduced to the famous Robbie Blog yet. Don't worry- I filled them in. I guess they are all friends with a guy named Garrett who I don't know (but maybe he could swing by the Mixer so I can put a face to him because I hear about him a lot), and I believe Garrett is also friends with Justin. Anyway, you can find them at jeffandamybarlow@blogspot.com and if you're feeling friendly drop by and give them a shout out. It warms my heart to reunite lost members of our dysfunctional family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-4188443712220282806?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/4188443712220282806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=4188443712220282806' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4188443712220282806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4188443712220282806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/05/simi-pride.html' title='Simi Pride'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBx1YI0zinI/AAAAAAAAAEs/2pzg0v12KUA/s72-c/jeff+and+amy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-7759722901485080128</id><published>2008-04-30T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T11:19:13.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to Cool Whip</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBiMf40zimI/AAAAAAAAAEk/maPqGUyH_Kg/s1600-h/cool+whip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBiMf40zimI/AAAAAAAAAEk/maPqGUyH_Kg/s320/cool+whip.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195056649629567586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every morning when I ask Fletcher what he wants for breakfast he inevitably answers "Cream". That means whipped cream for those of you who do not speak Fletcher. And every morning I say "Cream is not breakfast. Pick something else." This morning though, against my better judgement, I caved and let him eat cream for breakfast. Have you had the new Cool Whip in a can?! It's delicious!!!! Anyway, after squirting out a bowl for him I decided to make one for myself. He and I sat at the table just talking and eating cream. He told me that I needed to try his because it tastes different than mine, and then he needed a bite of mine to make sure it really did taste different than his. We talked about how he thinks he is a real fireman and that he puts out fires at night when I am sleeping. We also talked about how he doesn't like to go to swim class because he doesn't like water in his ears. And apparently he likes Macey way more than he likes Cali because Cali hits him. 3 bowls later we were stuffed. I loved having this moment with him. Not only does he love me more than Daddy now because I let him eat something bad for breakfast, but we probably wouldn't have just sat here and talked like we did if I didn't "break the rules" for a day. I am such a planner and like for things to run as scheduled (I blame it on OCD), but this morning taught me that being a little more flexible would probably not be a bad thing. Life will go on even if Fletcher eats cream for breakfast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-7759722901485080128?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/7759722901485080128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=7759722901485080128' title='24 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7759722901485080128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7759722901485080128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/ode-to-cool-whip.html' title='Ode to Cool Whip'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBiMf40zimI/AAAAAAAAAEk/maPqGUyH_Kg/s72-c/cool+whip.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>24</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6133893193555439712</id><published>2008-04-26T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-26T10:01:34.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a Little Bit Crazy</title><content type='html'>I believe I may have reached a new level of OCD. I caught myself this morning vacuuming my vacuum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6133893193555439712?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6133893193555439712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6133893193555439712' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6133893193555439712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6133893193555439712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/just-little-bit-crazy.html' title='Just a Little Bit Crazy'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-8257903883404703333</id><published>2008-04-25T06:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T07:16:19.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God must love me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBHZeo0zilI/AAAAAAAAAEc/N4u3unpUzWc/s1600-h/NKOTB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBHZeo0zilI/AAAAAAAAAEc/N4u3unpUzWc/s320/NKOTB.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193170965713095250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God finally heard my prayers. I am so overcome with joy at the mere sight of these 5 individuals on a stage together at the same time. Who's going to the concert with me? I might possibly still have NKOTB paraphernalia in my memory box at home. I wonder if the jacket still fits? Actually, seeing this photo got me thinking back to some of the concerts I have been to. The first, and quite possibly the best, was to go see Milli Vanilli. Let me paint the picture for you. I must have been 14. It was me and Colleen, and Steven on a date with Rachel Poppleton. Either Steven didn't have his license yet or my parents didn't trust him to drive to Hollywood, but my Dad drove us and he slept in the car while we enjoyed the concert. I screamed "I love you Fab and Rob!!" until I could scream no more. I can remember exactly what I was wearing, too. White jeans with an orange shirt. I had a perm with bangs (my signature look). After the concert we got back in the station wagon and went home. I'm pretty sure Steven did not get any action that night. It's hard to go in for the good night kiss when your Dad is shining the brights at the front door. It was a magical night for me. One I will never forget. There is something about seeing live music- no matter who it is. Some of my most favorite memories are from experiences at concerts. Nothing compares to seeing N Sync with Shannon right after giving birth to Macey. Did I mention that we were wearing head to toe glitter? And then there was the time that we saw O-Town in Santa Barbara. We were 3rd row center and I touched Jacob. We also chased the tour bus all the way out of the venue. Good times with Nickio. On my 30th birthday I went with a bunch of friends to go see Gavin Degraw and Avril Lavigne. I had my picture taken with Gavin. I heart him. That is also the concert I almost got in my first fist fight with a teenage girl. Luckily Shannon was there because I knew she would have had my back. Did I mention she is freakishly strong? My favorite concert in college was Steve Miller Band with Pat Benatar. We got there a little late and had to hear "We Belong" in the parking lot. It was still awesome all the way out there. It's crazy how a song can immediately take us back to a time or place in our past. That is why I am so excited about NKOTB. They take me back to a time when life was simple and fun. I WILL be at their concert. So I ask the question again- who's in?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-8257903883404703333?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/8257903883404703333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=8257903883404703333' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8257903883404703333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8257903883404703333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/god-finally-heard-my-prayers.html' title='God must love me...'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SBHZeo0zilI/AAAAAAAAAEc/N4u3unpUzWc/s72-c/NKOTB.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5605876601948964603</id><published>2008-04-20T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T13:28:43.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Texas bugs suck!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SAtbKIYSsiI/AAAAAAAAAEU/-nztKqNJ6OM/s1600-h/bug.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SAtbKIYSsiI/AAAAAAAAAEU/-nztKqNJ6OM/s320/bug.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191343225080820258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a giant bug in my car!!! After Macey's soccer game yesterday I put my chair in the front seat of the car. Just before I closed the door I noticed something black on the side of the seat. It moved. I screamed. It was a big black bug. Big. And it had beady little eyes that glared at me. Macey and her friend Hannah quickly came to my rescue and the three of us divulged a plan. I convinced Macey and Hannah to be the ones to kill the bug and that Fletcher's shoes would protect them from harm. My job was to poke the bug with a pen. I had to scoot it out a little more so that the shoes could reach it. On the count of three I did my part and the bug moved to a reachable position. It was now up to Hannah and Macey. Macey backed out at the last minute (baby!) so now it was up to Hannah. She misses and the bug scurries under the seat!!! That's ok- we'll try again. Only we can't see where the bug went. After a 15 minute investigation we decide to drive home. The girls get in the very back of the car- they felt safer back there (babies!), and left me to fend for myself. I was terrified. I just knew it was going to come out and attack me at any moment. I swear I felt it on me about 5 times, and each time I jumped and swerved. About half way home I look over and the bug had peeked it's head out from under the seat. I quickly (and by quickly I mean cut off all 3 lanes of traffic) pulled over to the side of the road and plan "Kill It" went into effect again. This time Macey kept an eye on the bug while Hannah and I took a moment for proper bug killing training. I had her practice on the sidewalk. There was no room for error. Ready, set, go! Once again I executed my part perfectly- the bug scooted out in plain view for Hannah to smash. And once again Hannah missed!!!!! The bug scurried back under the seat never to show his ugly little head again. We just sat there wallowing in our feelings of defeat. Poor Hannah felt like a failure. And she should. She let us down. But I guess I can cut her some slack- she is only 7. We still had to get home so the girls climbed back into the "safe" seat in the car and left me up front with the monster. We dropped Hannah off and went home. I left the windows down and took anything out of the car that a bug could hide in. We didn't go anywhere the rest of the day. I just know it's waiting for me to drive to church today so that it can taunt me some more. I think I will take Ben's car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5605876601948964603?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5605876601948964603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5605876601948964603' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5605876601948964603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5605876601948964603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/texas-bugs-suck.html' title='Texas bugs suck!!!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/SAtbKIYSsiI/AAAAAAAAAEU/-nztKqNJ6OM/s72-c/bug.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6427361087247473862</id><published>2008-04-16T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T09:01:52.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Crazy!!!</title><content type='html'>Help! I need new running music. I would rather poke myself in the eye with a hot needle than listen to my current playlist one more time! Suggestions welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6427361087247473862?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6427361087247473862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6427361087247473862' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6427361087247473862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6427361087247473862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/going-crazy.html' title='Going Crazy!!!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5888311705749547153</id><published>2008-04-16T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T09:04:02.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bright Ideas</title><content type='html'>Every once in a while I have a good idea. I am constantly looking for ways I can be more efficient and unique- especially when it comes to my kids. I thought I would post a few things I do that I think are good ideas (if I do say so myself), and then hopefully others will join in on the fun and post good ideas that they have come up with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I am so sick of packing sandwiches in my kids' lunches. Recently I packed a container of cereal and a bottle of milk with a spoon. They loved it. It is now a weekly staple. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. After Fletcher was born laundry became a huge issue for me. I would spend so many hours washing and folding, and then stacking neatly in drawers, only to find that hours later my girls had ripped through everything to find a certain outfit. The solution? Zip lock baggies. I now fold all the laundry and then have my girls come and pick out outfits they want to put together. I include everything that goes with that outfit- socks, belts, underwear, etc. Then I stick each outfit in a zip lock baggie and push all the air out. It's great- compact and organized. No more messy drawers, and packing for a trip takes about 2 minutes. My mom actually came up with this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. When Cali was in kindergarten we started the tradition of bringing candy to school instead of cupcakes for her birthday. Each year my kids get to pick out their 3 favorite candies which I buy in bulk and then tie a ribbon around. This year Cali brought a Hershey bar, bubble tape, and Airheads Extremes- all tied with her favorite colored ribbon. Kids LOVE it! So much better than cupcakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I've got for now. If you have any bright ideas,please post! I would love to read them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5888311705749547153?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5888311705749547153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5888311705749547153' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5888311705749547153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5888311705749547153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/bright-ideas.html' title='Bright Ideas'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-8296527467474810599</id><published>2008-04-15T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T16:49:50.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stripes, please.</title><content type='html'>So today I got a letter in the mail from the IRS informing me that we did not file tax returns for last year. I know this sounds incredibly irresponsible on my part, but the last 6 months have been a little crazy. To make a long story short our taxes have been completed and ready to send out since October (our accountant always files extensions- I don't know why. I assume he knows what he is doing. I don't judge him). At one point the envelope they are in was at my parent's house in California and then got mailed back here to me. Apparently I never opened the envelope and filed it neatly away instead. In the mean time I assumed my Dad sent them to the IRS for us. I guess not. The letter I received today is actually very nice. I will be mailing "the envelope" first thing in the morning. However, although a good little story, this is not the point of this post. I was in a hurry when I got the letter today and was only able to read the first paragraph stating a return was not filed last year for us. It was at this point that I assumed this particular piece of mail was going to require more of my attention than I had to give at that moment, so I put it in my purse to deal with later. A few moments later Shannon called and this is the conversation we had:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: If you don't hear from me for a while it is because I am in jail. &lt;br /&gt;Shannonn: For what?!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Apparently tax evasion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is at this point that I fill her in on all the details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: If one of us (Ben or me) has to go to jail I hope it is me. That would be a good break.&lt;br /&gt;Shannon: Would you spend 30 days in jail for $20,000.00?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes.&lt;br /&gt;Shannon: What about 60 days in jail for $20,000.00?&lt;br /&gt;Me: No. My limit is 40 days for $40,000.00.&lt;br /&gt;Shannon: What about if the government paid off all your debts- house, cars, business, everything- but you have to spend a year in jail. &lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes. But it has to be like Paris Hilton jail. And I have to have ears plugs. &lt;br /&gt;Shannon: Really?! &lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes. It would be great. Here is what I would do all day: I would run in place for like 2 hours. And then I would do a lot of sit ups. And then I would write letters to my family. And I would draw pictures. Pictures of the outside world. And then I would got to sleep. It would be a nice break. Would you do it?&lt;br /&gt;Shannon: Hell no!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so now that I have had more time to think about it, I would still do 40 days for $40,000.00, but I would have to have all debts wiped clean AND $500,000.00 cash to do a year. The question is: how much money would it take for you to spend time behind bars? Not prison- just jail. Think about it. I am optimistic that I will not really have to go to jail, but if I do I'm ready.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-8296527467474810599?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/8296527467474810599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=8296527467474810599' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8296527467474810599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8296527467474810599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/stripes-please.html' title='Stripes, please.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-3043119277604491891</id><published>2008-04-05T07:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T07:38:58.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snack Time</title><content type='html'>What is wrong with my child?!!! He may be the grossest human being alive. Last night as I was lying with Fletcher in bed he informed me that he likes to eat his boogers. He says that they are a good snack and that they are not spicy or sour. I told him that he is disgusting and that little boys should NEVER EVER eat their boogers. To this he responded with a high pitched squeal and told me that boogers are good for little boys to eat for a snack. And then he rolled over and wanted nothing more to do with the conversation. I don't know what to do. I have never had a booger eater before. Or a pee toucher for that matter. Is this just a boy or does he need an intervention?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-3043119277604491891?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/3043119277604491891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=3043119277604491891' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3043119277604491891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3043119277604491891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/snack-time.html' title='Snack Time'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-1985980197529966661</id><published>2008-04-05T06:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T07:06:22.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We are the Champions!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R_eBWB2Br7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/YcZ5IeU254Y/s1600-h/Georgia+cheer.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R_eBWB2Br7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/YcZ5IeU254Y/s400/Georgia+cheer.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185755711392559026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a quick shout out to Cali and Macey who won 1st place at the Battle of the Champions competition in Savannah, Georgia last weekend. They won 1st place at Nationals in March so they were invited to go to Georgia to compete against other National winners. This was such a big deal for this team because half the girls could not even do cartwheels at the beginning of the season. I am so proud of all the girls who set a goal and worked unbelievably hard to accomplish it. Macey is a flier which means she gets tossed in the air- perfect for her because she has no fear. She also has some of the best facial expressions. She knows how to work a crowd. Cali is a base which means she holds the flier up in the air. She is surprisingly strong and has even turned out to be one of the team leaders. Unfortunately I did not get to go to Georgia with them, but I know they had a great time and hopefully this experience stays with them forever. Go Gymstar Allstars!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Cali is standing directly behind the trophy and Macey is sitting to the right of the trophy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-1985980197529966661?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/1985980197529966661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=1985980197529966661' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/1985980197529966661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/1985980197529966661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/we-are-champions.html' title='We are the Champions!!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R_eBWB2Br7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/YcZ5IeU254Y/s72-c/Georgia+cheer.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6475500862634819887</id><published>2008-04-02T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T12:40:07.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Same time, same place.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R_Pgqh2Br6I/AAAAAAAAAD8/sPKVnFrT_wQ/s1600-h/cruise+025.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R_Pgqh2Br6I/AAAAAAAAAD8/sPKVnFrT_wQ/s320/cruise+025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184734617277673378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As sad as I am that my trip had to end it's been nice to be back in my own bed (without Shannon trying to spoon me). It didn't take long to get back to the grind. I guess it was the first time I took Fletcher to the potty when I got back and noticed his new "trick" of sticking his finger in front of his stream of pee because it "feels warm on his hand" that I realized life just sort of goes on even without me. I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that. I guess it's reassuring to know that if something ever happened to me my kids would be taken care of, but at the same time there would have been a little satisfaction in knowing all hell broke loose without me. And maybe it did and no one wants to admit it. Either way it's back to my "real" life of cooking, cleaning up after other people, sitting in my car for 5 hours a day, going to the dreaded grocery store, and breaking up fights. All of which I wouldn't change for anything- not even the life of a teenage twin sorority girl from Arizona. But it was fun while it lasted! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**I know the picture has nothing to do with the post but I just love this one of Shannon!!!! Best week ever!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6475500862634819887?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6475500862634819887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6475500862634819887' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6475500862634819887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6475500862634819887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/04/same-time-same-place.html' title='Same time, same place.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R_Pgqh2Br6I/AAAAAAAAAD8/sPKVnFrT_wQ/s72-c/cruise+025.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-1070505521220899276</id><published>2008-03-30T13:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T13:29:47.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bye, Bye, Finxy... We'll miss you when you go.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_3uB2Br5I/AAAAAAAAAD0/u2wHwJgydK4/s1600-h/cruise+005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_3uB2Br5I/AAAAAAAAAD0/u2wHwJgydK4/s200/cruise+005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183634066267811730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_3fR2Br4I/AAAAAAAAADs/HTcY2XqJzek/s1600-h/cruise+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_3fR2Br4I/AAAAAAAAADs/HTcY2XqJzek/s200/cruise+010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183633812864741250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_3Fx2Br3I/AAAAAAAAADk/JHCRQ4HSPII/s1600-h/cruise+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_3Fx2Br3I/AAAAAAAAADk/JHCRQ4HSPII/s200/cruise+006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183633374778077042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_2ux2Br2I/AAAAAAAAADc/o2IKbhRo38Q/s1600-h/cruise+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_2ux2Br2I/AAAAAAAAADc/o2IKbhRo38Q/s200/cruise+001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183632979641085794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_2Yx2Br1I/AAAAAAAAADU/F9ZZ7xVua7w/s1600-h/cruise+009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_2Yx2Br1I/AAAAAAAAADU/F9ZZ7xVua7w/s200/cruise+009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183632601683963730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_1xh2BrzI/AAAAAAAAADE/cAscphjMtcU/s1600-h/cruise+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_1xh2BrzI/AAAAAAAAADE/cAscphjMtcU/s200/cruise+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183631927374098226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_1ih2BryI/AAAAAAAAAC8/tvfDJZ8N43Y/s1600-h/cruise+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_1ih2BryI/AAAAAAAAAC8/tvfDJZ8N43Y/s200/cruise+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183631669676060450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_1OR2BrxI/AAAAAAAAAC0/q7RbfPCGsl0/s1600-h/cruise+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_1OR2BrxI/AAAAAAAAAC0/q7RbfPCGsl0/s200/cruise+004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183631321783709458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_01h2BrwI/AAAAAAAAACs/v1vxD2iO6Ds/s1600-h/cruise+030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_01h2BrwI/AAAAAAAAACs/v1vxD2iO6Ds/s200/cruise+030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183630896581947138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_0ih2BrvI/AAAAAAAAACk/xQpBjanvWeQ/s1600-h/cruise+034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_0ih2BrvI/AAAAAAAAACk/xQpBjanvWeQ/s200/cruise+034.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183630570164432626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_0QB2BruI/AAAAAAAAACc/Q4LFjAJQrVU/s1600-h/cruise+048.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_0QB2BruI/AAAAAAAAACc/Q4LFjAJQrVU/s200/cruise+048.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183630252336852706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_z4R2BrtI/AAAAAAAAACU/AAVGv3ac6Ck/s1600-h/cruise+052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_z4R2BrtI/AAAAAAAAACU/AAVGv3ac6Ck/s200/cruise+052.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183629844314959570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_zkh2BrsI/AAAAAAAAACM/ohcDCowupRI/s1600-h/cruise+053.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_zkh2BrsI/AAAAAAAAACM/ohcDCowupRI/s200/cruise+053.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183629505012543170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_zSh2BrrI/AAAAAAAAACE/vMQUcnLz7rI/s1600-h/cruise+056.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_zSh2BrrI/AAAAAAAAACE/vMQUcnLz7rI/s200/cruise+056.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183629195774897842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_y1x2BrqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/kESuxPtpNxs/s1600-h/cruise+057.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_y1x2BrqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/kESuxPtpNxs/s200/cruise+057.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183628701853658786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-1070505521220899276?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/1070505521220899276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=1070505521220899276' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/1070505521220899276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/1070505521220899276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/bye-bye-finxy-well-miss-you-when-you-go.html' title='Bye, Bye, Finxy... We&apos;ll miss you when you go.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R-_3uB2Br5I/AAAAAAAAAD0/u2wHwJgydK4/s72-c/cruise+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-2839751446189092606</id><published>2008-03-30T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T13:05:02.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Free at last! Free at last!</title><content type='html'>Day 6 and 7:&lt;br /&gt;Let us first apologize for the missing post last night. We could make something up that's really dramatic and shocking but truth be told- we were tired. Not because of anything strenuous or energy consuming. We were just a little sleepy. Perhaps it was the quantity of flourless chocolate cakes, 24 hour ice cream cones ready at your fingertips, coconut cookies, pizza, and the 3rd meal we always ordered "just to have a taste..." between us that made us a little lethargic. We will miss the hot coco's Constantine brought us every single night. With out fail he was there to make our dinners end a little warmer and cream filled. In honor of those weird Senior Wills you had to leave in the school newspaper we thought it would be fun if we took this time to leave our "friends" some things they might miss about us.  &lt;br /&gt;To Crazy Eyes (yes friends- we have pictures!!) we would like to leave you a cup full of ice and a bottle of Clear Eyes. And just for kicks we will throw in some jock itch powder.&lt;br /&gt;To MTV we will leave you...alone. We promise we wont stalk you anymore and look at you like you are not of this Earth. Even though you really aren't. I'm afraid the pictures will not do your Milano skin justice! &lt;br /&gt;To Abercrombie we will leave you a shirt that's actually from Abercrombie. NOT American Eagle. Trust us- it's much cooler. &lt;br /&gt;To Slingblade we will leave you a years worth of physical therapy to help with your range of motion in your right arm. Move that little sucker sometime! &lt;br /&gt;To our sorority girls (heeeaayyyyy) we will leave you all the pick up line deflecters you girls could ask for. Remember- when the Jesus Lives boys ask you what you like to do, just reply "burn bibles, attend our Satan worship mettings...." and you'll be just fine.&lt;br /&gt;To Mr. Vick we will leave you some alone time for you to think about us. Yes we are married, and mormon, and no we will not EVER be into you. &lt;br /&gt;To Big Boob's and her husband we will leave you an hour of sober babysitting. I swear we were just "sitting" in the bar when you saw us. We don't drink. Promise. &lt;br /&gt;To Runner we will leave you with our Runners World magazine that you were eyeing. Maybe you can read it while you rehab.&lt;br /&gt;To Slippers we will leave some taste. And shoes that aren't crocheted.&lt;br /&gt;To our "friends" that really aren't our friends we will leave you a smile and some personality. Maybe even a rainbow. Because really girls- you suck.&lt;br /&gt;To Turkey we will leave you with an actual wife. Seriously. Stop answering your 10 booty calls and find a woman with depth. Like us. &lt;br /&gt;To Constantine we will leave you with some cream and 99%.&lt;br /&gt;To Eva Monica we will leave you all the support in the world. And a million dollars so you don't have to go without seeing your daughter for one more day. &lt;br /&gt;To Steve and Sue we will leave you an arcade with an air hockey machine that let's you win every time. You need it more than we do. We will leave you tickets to all the Cruise Shows you can cram into your very scheduled days. Again...you need it more than we do. There aren't words to express how grateful we are for everything you have done for us this trip. From the Unlimited Drink Card to the $191.63 spent on photos...we loved every second of this vacation. Well, maybe not every- but we loved a lot. Thank you!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to all of our faithful readers and commenters. There was so much more than what's in this little blog but at the risk of losing our houses having to pay for internet service this will have to do. We have to save some of this stuff for times when we are around the dinner table. It's un-believ-able! Really. Sorry the pictures came before the blog but hey- that's the way the ball bounces sometimes. Carry on Robbie, carry on. &lt;br /&gt;-Sharalyn and Shannon&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-2839751446189092606?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/2839751446189092606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=2839751446189092606' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2839751446189092606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2839751446189092606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/free-at-last-free-at-last.html' title='Free at last! Free at last!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5919150000772696882</id><published>2008-03-28T18:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T19:10:58.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bzzzz.Stop. Invalid Card. Do not proceed any further</title><content type='html'>Day 5:&lt;br /&gt;One hell of a day. Picture this: white sandy beaches, blue cloudless sky, prefect 85 degree weather, and Juan running to and fro as  he fetches whatever it is your heart desires as you lay carefree on a lounge chair. Now- get all that out of your head and you will have a small glimpse into what our day was like. We got the Caves Sea and Snorkel tickets for our excursion and readily packed for another fun filled day at the beach. When we heard our tour guides say that "sunscreen is not necesary" - we knew something was up. After a 2 hour (2 HOURS!!!) bus ride through something you would see in National Geographic magazine we arrived at our destination. or so we thought. No, No friends- that was just the beginning. From there, we had to ride on a horse drawn train like rickshaw. We will stop right here and take a moment for you to read that again. Horse. train like tracks. Rickshaw. And a Mayan speaking (no English OR Spanish for that matter) "driver." Another 45 minutes of the most violent shaking ride of our lives. Is it possible for 2 grown women to suffer from Shaking Baby Syndrome? Because after this ride- we are pretty sure we have it. Our horse stops in the  middle of no where. Is the horse sick? Tired? Sleepy maybe? Probably needs a drink? No, this is the "caves" part of the trip. We walk over to what can only be described as a hole in the ground with some stairs leading down into a watery hell. They kept saying it was an underground "river", but then again- some say tomato some say tom-a-to. 40 mintues of frolicking in the dark, freezing water and 1 panic attack later- we happily piled back onto our "thing" with wheels and a horse thinking the good Lord has heard our prayers and we are heading home. No friends, Sharalyn is with us and God has decided to hate on us too so it's another 15 minute shake until your head falls off ride to the next water hell hole. It's at this point the guide tells us to be careful, because last week a lady fell into the hole and let's just say "she won't be walking again." Strangely we opted to sit with the Mayan men and children and eat a popsicle like treat served from a plastic baggie. We are sure it was made in the finest, most sanitary conditions. But hey- we thought we would take our chances. Frolick time was over and it was sadly (and by sadly, we mean jumping for joy!) time to go. But how did we get back you ask. The same damn way we came. Horse horse. bump bump. And then it's back to the bus we go. "Lunch" was ready to be served. The bus driver poped the luggage hatch and lo and behold- there was our lunch! Yummy! Who said turkey sandwiches with mayo needs to be kept cold? That's not how the Mayans do it apparently. Or so Scott says. We decided to stick with the gummy bears and peanuts we paid $17 for from the boat. Mmmmm. Like we said- one hell of a day! We wish we had a fun story about dinner but honestly kids- Sharalyn might have to go to the Boat doctor to be checked for whiplash. Moral of the story? Next time you tell your dad, "go ahead and pick the excursion, we don't care..." you better think twice or your might not have a brain left to think with. It's still early in the night though, we hear there is a Teen Scene dance party at midnight. We are thinking of crashing it. It's either that or Gin.  &lt;br /&gt;P.S. we appreciate all the comments on the last blog. And yes, Robbie- could you please suspend your blog until we arrive home. We feel like it's taking away some potential comments. We would NEVER hate on THE BLOG. We know our role.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5919150000772696882?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5919150000772696882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5919150000772696882' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5919150000772696882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5919150000772696882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/bzzzzstop-invalid-card-do-not-proceed.html' title='Bzzzz.Stop. Invalid Card. Do not proceed any further'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6066421248659603391</id><published>2008-03-27T18:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T18:48:12.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You ready for bed cupcake?</title><content type='html'>Day 4:&lt;br /&gt;Post blog activity lastnight included the infamous air hockey rematch we mentioned before. Needless to say-Abercrombie and Slingblade went down in a flame of glory. Again. Our skills were so good we were left wandering in the Promenade on Deck 5 while Steve and Sue were tucked nicely in their room playing a wicked game of Gin. What started out with us just wanting to enjoy a little quiet time with a coconut cookie turned into a full blown Teen Scene with us being right in the thick if it. Nothing like watching 2 horny 18 year old boys try and pick up our sorority friends while wearing size XXXL Jesus Lives shirts. We spent the night adding to our "circle of friends." Let us introduce you to Crazy Eyes AKA the boy who grabs his crotch for no reason. We saw him walking down the promenade, said hello and he nearly choked on a piece of ice. Not hard to do considering he had about 30 pieces tucked in his mouth. And then there's MTV. Our favorite "friend". He's only 16 but we swear we will see him on a MTV reality show in the next 5 years. Perfect milano skin, hair, lips, and attitude to match. He doesn't really know he's part of our group but he is. There's so many to mention we will just give you a quick run down of the names and you can do the math...you already know Abercrombie and Slingblade but we also have "the twins' sister", "eighth grade", "slippers", "short's" and her girlfriend, "big boobs", "big boobs' husband", "runner" and we can't forget Mr.Vick. We were waiting for the elevator on the way back to our room when a really important looking man wearing a very important looking suit walked by. We asked him why he wasn't steering the boat and he informed us that he has a more important job to do than steer. He's in charge of all the liquor for RCCL. If we were drinkers- our night would have been made. For the next 2 hours we talked to this guy about everything from why he's divorced to possibly planning our next vacation at his home in North Carolina. Onto today...It was another At Sea day which meant hours and hours of us laying in the sun while Steve laid next to us in a coma like state due to the overdose of cold medicine he took this morning. We have some gnarly sunburns to show for it but when will we ever have the chance again to lay by a pool without worrying if our children are going to fall in? We soaked it all up. Dinner tonight was another formal night but instead of switching the beautiful gowns- we opted for our matching Hippity Hoppity Purple dresses. We even wore our matching beautiful Holy Mary bracelets we picked up at the flea market. God Bless the children that made those beauties. FYI- Sleepy time in the garden photos turned out better than our first formal night photos. How is this even possible? I swear we cannot take a bad photograph on this trip! Once again- God bless Mystic Tan! &lt;br /&gt;P.S. We are sory if we have offended some of you by not checking/leaving comments on your blogs. But remember- we are out in the middle of no where and paying $0.55 per minute! (a little comment here and there would be appreciated.) Hint hint Janelle. Aunt Donna. Jared. Casey while she is hooked up to her breast pump. Steven. Jenn. Justin...and the rest of you....you know who you are. We are considering a boycott if we don't get any participation. We bet you are all too busy leaving comments on Robbies damn blog. whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6066421248659603391?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6066421248659603391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6066421248659603391' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6066421248659603391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6066421248659603391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/you-ready-for-bed-cupcake.html' title='You ready for bed cupcake?'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6741300808064741914</id><published>2008-03-26T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T18:36:05.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NFL (and no that doesn't have anything to do with football)</title><content type='html'>Day 3:&lt;br /&gt;Holy Honduras. Woke up and got ready for a day at the beach. Bathing suits, check. Sunscreen, check. Flip flops, check. Plastic ponchos to shield you from the terenchal down pour, ?!? not so much. Old school bus picks us up and takes us to the "sunny" side of the island. Up big hills with zero regard for any traffic laws. Scared the hell (sorry Sue) out of us. No joke. Made it there in one piece only to be rained on so we packed up and headed back to the boat. But wait...is that a "flea market" we see? We decide to go check it out while Steve and Sue head up to Johnny Rockets. Or so we thought. That's a whole other blog in itself! Back to the flea market. It's kind of a mix between Skid Row and a feed the children infomercial. We decide to take it all head on. It can be summed up with this: Hondurus men LOVE us! Almost more than Luis loves Shannon. Again...possibly has something to do with the fact that we are so tan they think we are locals. God bless Mystic Tan. Picked up some great finds along our fast (think lots of big black men chasing you telling you how beautiful you are...wanting to take you home...)shopping trip. Back to the boat for lunch with Sue and Steve....or just us....whatever...(do we seem bitter?) and a quick dip in the hot tub where we started a Meet N Greet with every couple that joined us. It was clap clap clap when they got in and loud booooo's when they left. We have to give a quick shout out to the girls at Kappa Alpha Omega Phi who wanted to know what Sorority we were with. Heeeaayyyyy. (we lied and told them we went to ASU) Dinner's theme tonight was "Pajama's in the dining room". Wonderful idea if you ask us. Included sleepy faced photos by the garden. After dinner we checked out our twin pictures from lastnight and saw another "twin" couple who remembered us and said..."look, there's the twins." Sharalyn informed then that we aren't really twins to which the boy twin looked at his twin wife and said "they aren't really twins. they are liars." Good come back pinkie. It's been a blast making friends in low places. Hate to cut the blog short tonight but we have a re-match with two 15 year old boys from Arkansas who repetedly have told us that if we give them ONE MORE CHANCE- they can kick our butts in air hockey. Considering they thought we were only 17 and they both look like they could use some friends and a hot shower or two- we deicided to take them on again. Hopefully this game won't end with Slingblade and Abercrombie throwing the pucks at us again. Apparently they didn't think it was funny when we told them our children could beat them at air hockey. Blind folded. Like we said...friends in low places. Adios.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6741300808064741914?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6741300808064741914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6741300808064741914' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6741300808064741914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6741300808064741914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/nfl-and-no-that-doesnt-have-anything-to.html' title='NFL (and no that doesn&apos;t have anything to do with football)'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5559435397878700288</id><published>2008-03-25T18:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T18:52:22.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I haven't lit her fire for years...</title><content type='html'>Day 2:&lt;br /&gt;AAHHH! Land at last, land at last. Got on a bus to Playa Mia beach resort for a cooking class with Luis. It was great- aprons, chef hats, and all the alcohol you could drink. We meet Luis and I think it was love at first sight for him and Shannon. He REALLY liked her. Maybe he thought she was a local because of the spray tan. Chop, chop, cook, cook. We actually made really good food. And the best part was the ambiance we were treated to as we ate our food. Let's just say it included Luis and a James Blunt CD. She actually got seranaded. It was touching. However, it got a little creepy when we caught him watching us out the window as we laid on the beach after class. Maybe there won't be a wedding after all. Apparrently "Twyla" and "Joan" had a little too much to drink because when we got off the bus back at port they literally fell face first onto the gravel parking lot. I am pretty sure they will be regretting their choice in excursions tomorrow morning. &lt;br /&gt;Dinner tonight almost topped formal night. It was "twin night". Head to toe matching outfits. Not to mention twin pictures.  The best is when people would ask us if we were really twins and Shannon would say yes at the same time I said no. It sounded like "yo" or "nes". &lt;br /&gt;After dinner we treated ourselves to a photo viewing of formal night. We laughed so hard we almost peed in our matching outfits. $191.63 later (all charged to Steve's room of course) we are now the proud owners of some of the finest formal photos you will ever see. Viva la Mexico!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5559435397878700288?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5559435397878700288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5559435397878700288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5559435397878700288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5559435397878700288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-havent-lit-her-fire-for-years.html' title='I haven&apos;t lit her fire for years...'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6781307378551002997</id><published>2008-03-24T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T18:21:57.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That's ok, I'll just have some of her cream...</title><content type='html'>Day one:&lt;br /&gt;started off trying to run on a treadmill in a gym that was hotter than hell. seriously. skipped the end of the run and opted for some Bingo. Good times. The whole way there we had to try to convince Sue she could keep her temple recommend and this wasnt technically "gambling." We lost any ways so it doesnt really count right? &lt;br /&gt;On to the hot tub- minus the hot. It was a cold tub filled with some interesting folks from Houston. Got out and quickly (and I mean QUICKLY) ran to a smaller yet warmer tub. &lt;br /&gt;Went back to our room to get changed for the "Ice Show" Steve got tickets for. Un-be-lieve-a-ble! Picture this: a rink so small we could stretch out and touch both sides. 8 cast members wearing the following costumes during the opening number...&lt;br /&gt;#1 Gypsy like girl holding a crystal ball&lt;br /&gt;#2 court jester&lt;br /&gt;#3 Black girl who stayed in a Tee Pee doing some type of dance you would see on BE.&lt;br /&gt;#4 Homeless looking man (including a vest)&lt;br /&gt;#5 Lumber jack man. &lt;br /&gt;#6 Circus ring master&lt;br /&gt;#7 a man seriously wearing his pajamas from the night before&lt;br /&gt;#8 girl wearing a knitted cap and tule skirt with a half top. nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can you figure out how all these people make up a story line? yea- we can't either. The show got more weird with every "act." It's something you just have to see for yourself. Worth every penny of this trip right there!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to dinner formal night #1. Shannon wearing red dress and Sharalyn in the hoochie sheer blue sparkler. Shannon barely made it out the door because the sleeves were literally as wide as the door frame. We looked hot. You wanna know why we know we looked hot? Because "Erwin" the Head Waiter came up to us and told us so. We took some beautiful formal pics that even had the photographer laughing. We love the back to back shot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steve and Sue went to the "comedy show" but after Ice Odyssey I think we are all tapped out on shows for tonight. Stay tuned for more to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6781307378551002997?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6781307378551002997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6781307378551002997' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6781307378551002997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6781307378551002997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/thats-ok-ill-just-have-some-of-her.html' title='That&apos;s ok, I&apos;ll just have some of her cream...'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-8105275057769379951</id><published>2008-03-23T06:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T06:46:47.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And we're off!</title><content type='html'>Well, Shannon just got in town and there are already stories to tell. Two words: spray tan. Let's just say we may come back from our trip whiter than when we are leaving. It's always fun when we get together!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-8105275057769379951?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/8105275057769379951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=8105275057769379951' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8105275057769379951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8105275057769379951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/and-were-off.html' title='And we&apos;re off!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6830784948509283025</id><published>2008-03-17T15:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T15:47:41.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Betsy</title><content type='html'>I remember the most random stuff from my childhood. There is this moment I remember so vividly with my Grandma Bea. I was spending the night at her house and it was raining really hard outside. We were standing at her front window just watching the rain come down. Grandma said, "Look at old Betsy getting wet." So I looked. I didn't see anyone. A few moments later Grandma said, "Betsy sure is getting wet out there." Again I looked. I saw no one. I was very confused as to why Grandma was letting "Betsy" just stand in the rain and get wet. And who was "Betsy" anyway? Could Grandma see something I couldn't? Did I need glasses? Or did Grandma need to see a doctor? I remember going to sleep that night very concerned about "Betsy". Throughout the course of the next year Grandma referred to "Betsy" on numerous occasions. Sometimes it was "Old Betsy", but usually just "Betsy". It wasn't until after she had died that I finally figured out who "Betsy" is. I was looking at some old pictures with my mom. There was one picture of my Grandma standing in front of her car- a really old red station wagon. My mom said, "There's Grandma with Old Betsy." It finally dawned on me that Betsy was her car. You can imagine the relief I felt that my Grandma was not this horrible person that lets people stand out in the freezing rain. I guess this makes me laugh because I too have named my car. Or Shannon named it for me. Back in October Shannon gave me a gift after we ran the Chicago Marathon together. She got me personalized license plates that say RNR GRL. That is when Runner Girl was born. I can't just say "my car" anymore. It has to be "Kids, go get in Runner Girl." Or "Do you remember where we parked Runner Girl?" And when it rains I find myself thinking about Runner Girl getting wet. Grandma would be proud.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6830784948509283025?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6830784948509283025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6830784948509283025' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6830784948509283025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6830784948509283025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-remember-most-random-stuff-from-my.html' title='Betsy'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5635230259652103690</id><published>2008-03-16T17:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T17:14:33.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Parenting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R923SbuZlrI/AAAAAAAAAB0/QMP6TV11YW4/s1600-h/Fletch+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R923SbuZlrI/AAAAAAAAAB0/QMP6TV11YW4/s400/Fletch+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178496673853839026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't turn my back for a second. It's also a lttle disturbing that he can't leave the house right now without putting his "hat" on. This kid lives in a bubble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5635230259652103690?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5635230259652103690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5635230259652103690' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5635230259652103690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5635230259652103690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/good-parenting.html' title='Good Parenting'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R923SbuZlrI/AAAAAAAAAB0/QMP6TV11YW4/s72-c/Fletch+007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5356690594200182546</id><published>2008-03-16T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T08:26:17.072-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Search for the Perfect Dress</title><content type='html'>Next Sunday Shannon and I will be leaving to go on a cruise with our mom and dad. I wish I could give details as to our itinerary but truth be told I was not paying attention a year ago when Steve planned it. I am sure he's got all of our travel info neatly printed out and alphabetized and filed nicely in his new travel portfolio (thanks Janelle), so all I have to do is show up. I don't really care where I am going. It's a week without kids so I could literally spend every day in my car in the garage and be happy. Here's the dilemma: Shannon and I need help determining which beautiful dresses we should wear on our formal nights. There are 4 to choose from and the top two will win. I do realize that some are not quite as modest as others but my choices were limited. Also keep in mind that the first 2 need to be tailored so they will look much better after that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R902lbuZlnI/AAAAAAAAABU/8aAaraOkbc0/s1600-h/dress+%231.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R902lbuZlnI/AAAAAAAAABU/8aAaraOkbc0/s320/dress+%231.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178355163271370354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R903LbuZloI/AAAAAAAAABc/V9KuFtFhk5E/s1600-h/dress+%232.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R903LbuZloI/AAAAAAAAABc/V9KuFtFhk5E/s320/dress+%232.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178355816106399362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R903gbuZlpI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hfo3YCo1pY0/s1600-h/dress+%233.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R903gbuZlpI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hfo3YCo1pY0/s320/dress+%233.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178356176883652242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R903wbuZlqI/AAAAAAAAABs/ilF5YQlX7-E/s1600-h/dress+%234.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R903wbuZlqI/AAAAAAAAABs/ilF5YQlX7-E/s320/dress+%234.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178356451761559202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please help us out by leaving an opinion. I know the answer should be to bring all 4 (they are all so beautiful), but we are trying not to pack too much so we are going to share. And for the record, I was posing like that on purpose. I think it adds to the quality of the dress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5356690594200182546?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5356690594200182546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5356690594200182546' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5356690594200182546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5356690594200182546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/search-for-perfect-dress.html' title='Search for the Perfect Dress'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R902lbuZlnI/AAAAAAAAABU/8aAaraOkbc0/s72-c/dress+%231.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-7267124997363040416</id><published>2008-03-06T16:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T16:12:22.372-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let it Snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R9CIOCI2h0I/AAAAAAAAAA0/EJMTfxjpxqo/s1600-h/Family+069.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174785746522244930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R9CIOCI2h0I/AAAAAAAAAA0/EJMTfxjpxqo/s400/Family+069.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One fun thing about Texas is that once a year it snows. It was 80 on Saturday and will be 70 by the end of the day tomorrow, but today was fun. The kids went out and made a snowman and then insisted that I serve them hot chocolate in the tub. Oh to be a kid again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-7267124997363040416?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/7267124997363040416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=7267124997363040416' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7267124997363040416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7267124997363040416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/let-it-snow.html' title='Let it Snow'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R9CIOCI2h0I/AAAAAAAAAA0/EJMTfxjpxqo/s72-c/Family+069.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-2249381873507892682</id><published>2008-03-06T15:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T16:03:19.315-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Cheeks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R9CF4iI2hzI/AAAAAAAAAAs/QdMe1N8uKlY/s1600-h/Family+074.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174783178131801906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R9CF4iI2hzI/AAAAAAAAAAs/QdMe1N8uKlY/s400/Family+074.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fletcher is now a stander!!! He finally figured out that it is not necessary to squeeze his "pee pee" so hard that it turns blue. I'm pretty sure he is going to need Shannon's fertility doctor's number some day. There really is nothing cuter than a 2 year old butt in tighty whiteys (with a few monkeys).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-2249381873507892682?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/2249381873507892682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=2249381873507892682' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2249381873507892682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2249381873507892682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/03/sweet-cheeks.html' title='Sweet Cheeks'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R9CF4iI2hzI/AAAAAAAAAAs/QdMe1N8uKlY/s72-c/Family+074.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5762913139967722001</id><published>2008-02-27T07:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T08:23:41.061-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Feel Extreme Guilt for Not Posting</title><content type='html'>If Janelle can add a new post then I guess I can too. I wish I had a really exciting story to tell but truth be told my life is pretty uneventful. Maybe that's a good thing. Here's an update: Fletcher is finally potty trained!!! He decided one morning that his diapers made him feel like there were bugs in his pants and from then on he has gone on the big boy potty. Or should I say big girl potty...he is a sitter. I don't quite know when I should be concerned about this, but for now I am just ecstatic to not have to change another diaper for the rest of my life (there is no 4th child debate in our house). Macey is a funny kid. She is missing 4 teeth including her top two. As awkward as this stage is for kids she somehow manages to make it cute. She had to make a really big decision this past week regarding her life as a self proclaimed athlete. Over the last year she has been playing on two soccer teams, doing competitive cheer leading, playing basketball and volleyball , and taking an art class. She swears she LOVES it all and can't give anything up. Well, her soccer has recently been taken to the next level and it will now conflict with cheer. She had to pick. Soccer won. It will be hard for her to sit back and just watch her sister and friends at the competitions but in the long run I think she will be happier and more rested. Cali is almost 9. I can't believe I have a nine year old!!! It is so fun to watch her try and figure out who she is. She does cheer and swimming and is a very talented artist. I am really trying to teach her that being unique is a good thing &amp;amp;to try and find her own style. That is a very tough concept for kids to learn in elementary school. Luckily she has 2 very interesting and fashionable aunts to look up to. One of her favorite things is to go to California and go shopping for school clothes. It's fun for her to be able to find stuff that all the other kids don't have. Ben is doing well. The practice is plugging along and plans to sell are still in the works. He turns 36 on Sunday. Wow! I think this makes him officially old. And I am not far behind. The other day at the grocery store the boy bagging my groceries insisted on calling me ma'am. I finally had to say to him "Do I really look like a ma'am?" His response, "yes ma'am". That's nice. Other than feeling old not much else is new with me. I did do another marathon on Saturday and yesterday was able to figure out how to install a towel bar in my bathroom. Very exciting. Anyway, that's about it. As much as I would love to have an exciting and interesting life I should be thankful for boring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5762913139967722001?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5762913139967722001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5762913139967722001' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5762913139967722001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5762913139967722001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/02/if-janelle-can-add-new-post-then-i.html' title='I Feel Extreme Guilt for Not Posting'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-2193730964723610373</id><published>2008-01-14T12:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T12:09:01.493-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fletcher is Dirty.</title><content type='html'>How long is too long to let your son sit in the shower and play with his toys? To be more specific, is an hour and 37 minutes too long?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-2193730964723610373?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/2193730964723610373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=2193730964723610373' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2193730964723610373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2193730964723610373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2008/01/fletcher-is-dirty.html' title='Fletcher is Dirty.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6049699237289586699</id><published>2007-12-14T06:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T07:11:59.888-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...used to laugh and call him names...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R2KdGLIkSgI/AAAAAAAAAAU/E2Ta4w_qJU0/s1600-h/reindeer+car.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143846453804026370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R2KdGLIkSgI/AAAAAAAAAAU/E2Ta4w_qJU0/s320/reindeer+car.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are so many wonderful things about this time of year. I love me some hot chocolate and a fire, shopping for other people brings me joy, I get to burn my favorite candle, Christmas lights, Christmas songs, and of course baked goods. However, there is one thing that only happens this time of year that is so disturbing to me that it warrants me writing a blog about it. Two words: Reindeer Cars. There seems to be an overwhelming growth of people who think it is cute to put antlers sticking out of their windows and a big shiny red nose stuck to the hood of their car. I don't understand this. I'm pretty sure these are the same people that put dresses on their dogs and put their 2 year old daughters in beauty pageants. And maybe it's just here in Texas. I don't know. It's just really frightening to be driving down the street and feel like you are pulling Santa's sleigh because the 5 other cars surrounding you all look like Rudolph and Donner and Prancer and Vixen. And when I walk by these cars in a parking lot I feel like ripping the red nose right off the front of the car (can I be arrested for that?), or at least bending one of the antlers so that it is droopy. That would at least make it funny. The worst part is that EVERY time my kids see one (which is 100 times a day) they feel the need to sing the song. It's driving me crazy!!! It used to be one of my favorite holiday songs and now I can't stand it. Anyway, I feel better having gotten this off my chest. Now I can go back to enjoying the hustle and bustle of the season. Merry Christmas!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6049699237289586699?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6049699237289586699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6049699237289586699' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6049699237289586699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6049699237289586699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/12/used-to-laugh-and-call-him-names.html' title='...used to laugh and call him names...'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_f4DDAPjOIN4/R2KdGLIkSgI/AAAAAAAAAAU/E2Ta4w_qJU0/s72-c/reindeer+car.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-8347921473595925702</id><published>2007-11-28T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T13:48:32.407-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple joy</title><content type='html'>Today is a good day. Other than the fact that I may have either a brain tumor or cauliflower ear, I don't have a whole lot to complain about. The weather is nice, Fletcher is happy, I have won 6 games in a row in solitaire, and I had the perfect hot dog for lunch today. What could be better?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-8347921473595925702?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/8347921473595925702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=8347921473595925702' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8347921473595925702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/8347921473595925702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/11/simple-joy.html' title='Simple joy'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-3451131441354974797</id><published>2007-11-24T15:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T19:14:05.848-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RED</title><content type='html'>So the other day I was out shopping for clothing that my kids could wear as costumes for their book character parade for school. This meant going into stores I don't regularly shop in for clothes. Lucky for me someone back in 1999 really had their thinking cap on because they designed a whole shopping center in Frisco exclusively for discount &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apparel&lt;/span&gt; stores. This was going to make finding costumes a piece of cake. In theory I should have been able to run from one store to the next except for one thing: Fletcher. He was in a really bad mood and was not going to make this easy. I think what started his tantrum was a toy he had spotted in the first store we went into. I believe we were in Ross and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;apparently&lt;/span&gt; they had something he really wanted. He kept saying, " Heroes. I want heroes" as tears of anger were rolling down his cheeks. I was able to quickly rummage through the racks and determine that there was nothing I could use, so I picked Fletcher up and moved on. Next up: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;TJ&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Maxx&lt;/span&gt;. At this point Fletcher is screaming and people are staring, but I don't care. I am on a mission and don't have a lot of time. This time though I put him in the cart and was able to strap him in long enough to find a couple of items that would work. Now it's off to the register to pay. I am sure the lady helping me is quite lovely, but let's just say she could probably benefit from a trip to Ben's office and a hot shower. Meanwhile Fletcher is still screaming, "Heroes! I want heroes!" I decide at this point to take a break and sit in the car for a second to calm him down. I call Shannon (as I usually do in times of distress) and her advice was to turn the music up really loud so I can't hear him screaming. So there I am sitting there with my son hysterically screaming in the back seat, music blasting, and me on the phone trying to have a conversation with Shannon. All of a sudden I look down at my left hand and notice blood from what I believe to be a cut or scrape if you will. It was about the size of a dime and the outside rim was dry while the rest was still wet. My first thought was that I must have cut myself on one of the racks in the stores. I really have no idea why I did what I did next. It just happened, but I licked my wound to wipe it off. And now for the most disturbing part of this whole story: I did not have a cut!! I searched my entire body- nothing. Then I pulled my hysterical son up front and searched his entire body- nothing!!! I have no idea whose blood I had on me or where it came from!!! I'm pretty sure it came from either Ross or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;TJ&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Maxx&lt;/span&gt; though. Needless to say I freaked out just a little bit. I'm just glad that the fact that I may have AIDS or Hep C now made Shannon laugh and laugh. I am still disgusted by this moment in my life and even writing this makes me sick to my stomach. You can bet I will never lick my blood again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-3451131441354974797?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/3451131441354974797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=3451131441354974797' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3451131441354974797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3451131441354974797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/11/red.html' title='RED'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-4315273647595960222</id><published>2007-11-24T14:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T15:03:38.079-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's not what you say but how you say it.</title><content type='html'>The scene: I am upstairs on the computer. Cali, Fletcher and Macey are downstairs playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macey: Mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macey: (louder) Mom!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (louder) What?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macey: (even louder) Mom!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (even louder) What?! I am upstairs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macey: (really loud) MOM!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (in my most evil devil tone) &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;WHAT DO YOU WANT?!!!!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macey: Nikki's here to see you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FYI: Nikki is my neighbor who had been standing in my house the entire time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-4315273647595960222?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/4315273647595960222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=4315273647595960222' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4315273647595960222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4315273647595960222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/11/its-not-what-you-say-but-how-you-say-it.html' title='It&apos;s not what you say but how you say it.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-368901214591881471</id><published>2007-11-19T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T13:35:45.305-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This really sucks!!</title><content type='html'>With it being Thanksgiving and all, I thought I would take a minute and give a shout out to something I am thankful for. A month or so ago I discovered something that has completely changed my life. It is somthing that has been right in front of my face all my life, yet I never really noticed . And now it is something I cannot live without. I am talking about my vacuum attachment.  Why did nobody ever tell me how fabulous this is?! I can vacuum anything and everything with this spectacular piece of plastic. Places I naievely thought were unreachable have suddenly become reachable. I am obsessed. Here is a list of just a few places I have vacuumed recently: under every bed, under every dresser, behind, under and around my washer and drier, the corners of my garage floor, the bottom of toy baskets, under my kitchen sink, drapes, plants, around picture frames, and inside my kid's sports bags. The possibilities are endless and every day I find a new use for my new favorite thing. I don't know how I ever lived without it. I challenge anyone who has never used their attachment to try it today. I promise it will change your life as it did mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-368901214591881471?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/368901214591881471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=368901214591881471' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/368901214591881471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/368901214591881471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/11/this-really-sucks.html' title='This really sucks!!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-3713138183877858612</id><published>2007-11-14T11:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T11:50:31.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Does that make me crazy?</title><content type='html'>My 6 wierd things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. As I am driving down the road I pick an object, (usually trees, light posts, or freeway signs) and when I pass that object I have to blink. But it HAS to be at the exact moment I feel like the object is in line with my front tires. It gets really difficult when the object I choose is orange cones or the dashes of lines in the road. Then all that blinking makes it difficult to drive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. A door HAS to either be open all the way or completely shut. There is no in betweeen. This rule also applies to drawers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I have a hard time eating Fruit Loops and Lucky Charms. As early as I can remember I have imagined that these two cereals are alive in my bowl and that every time I take a spoonfull I am ripping little families apart. Sometimes I can't even finish my bowl because I am too attached to the cereal. Fortunately it is just these two cereals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I am really good at guessing a song that comes on the radio within 2 seconds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I go to bed at the same time as my kids every night. And my kids go to bed at   7:00. I may not fall asleep for a little while but the lights are off, my pjs are on and I am under the covers. Anyone who knows me knows not to call my house past 8 pm otherwise I answer the phone scared to death. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I am TERRIFIED of dogs and have been known to throw even my own children in front of a dog that may be approaching me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I need therapy now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-3713138183877858612?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/3713138183877858612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=3713138183877858612' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3713138183877858612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3713138183877858612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/11/does-that-make-me-crazy.html' title='Does that make me crazy?'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-7937153140064888419</id><published>2007-11-13T11:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T06:34:49.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tub time</title><content type='html'>One of the best qualities my parents instilled in me is a sense of humor. They have taught me to find the lighter side of any situation no matter how bad it may be. There is nothing funnier to me than seeing someone trip and hurt themselves. I guess that is my way of turning a negative into a possitive. So when I walked into my bathroom this morning to find that a mouse had crawled up my pipes and into my tub I had to chuckle. Of course I can't just get a normal mouse like everybody else. No. I have to get the freakishly strong mouse that can actually push up on the plug that weighs at least 2 pounds to let himself in. I didn't know what to do. Ben had just left for work and the thing was really freaking me out so I called him to come home. There was no way I was going to put my hand anywhere near it or it's beady litlle eyes that were glaring at me. Ben was nice enough to come home and help me. He lifted up the plug and immediately the mouse scurried back to wherever he came from. Then he turned on the hot water and poured bleach down the drain. After securing the plug again Ben was off to work. I really think this mouse was on some sort of steroid because not more than 5 minutes later it was back! And this time I think it was angry because I"m pretty sure it hissed at me as it jumped 4 feet in the air aiming at my face. I quickly called Ben and thankfully he was nice enough to come back and help again. He lifted the plug and once again the mouse ran back down the drain. This time we filled the tub with scolding hot water and just let it sit there. Now all I have to worry about is my 2 year old falling in and drowning. That should be easy.  Anyway, I guess the point of this story is that I am so grateful that I am able to find the humor in situations such as these. I think life would be so much harder to go through without being able to laugh at myself (and clumsy people).  As for the mouse, I still hope it dies a slow and painful death, but maybe it needed a laugh this morning as well. I can appreciate that. Farewell little mouse. Farewell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-7937153140064888419?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/7937153140064888419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=7937153140064888419' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7937153140064888419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7937153140064888419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/11/tub-time.html' title='Tub time'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-4705192076552578164</id><published>2007-10-25T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T15:46:08.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>18 hours spent picking through hair&lt;br /&gt;37 minutes spent vacuuming couch&lt;br /&gt;90 minutes spent vacuuming beds&lt;br /&gt;2 hours spent cleaning out car and car seat&lt;br /&gt;$106.42 on RIDD shampoo&lt;br /&gt;$28.00 on new brushes and combs&lt;br /&gt;$12.00 on new pony tail holders&lt;br /&gt;40 loads of laundary&lt;br /&gt;16 sets of sheets changed on beds&lt;br /&gt;6 days of not being able to wash hair so that medicine can work&lt;br /&gt;2 times in a 7 day period my house has been scrubbed from top to bottom&lt;br /&gt;1 humiliating phone call to mother in law advising her to check her own hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding more lice 10 days later...priceless!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-4705192076552578164?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/4705192076552578164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=4705192076552578164' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4705192076552578164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4705192076552578164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/10/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-3132214658689063044</id><published>2007-10-25T14:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T15:31:52.002-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ben wears big shoes</title><content type='html'>Yesterday Ben came with me to take the girls to cheer practice. He is usually at work during this time so it was a nice treat for him to be there and help me entertain Fletcher. After about 45 minutes Fletcher became bored with all the toys and books I brought for him to play with, and it didn't help that another little boy took his favorite airplane and would not give it back. Needless to say it got ugly and Ben was kind enough to step in. If I had been there by myself I would have just put the boy in the car and drove around until it was time to pick up the girls. But I have no patience and am not a very good mom so it was a good thing Ben was there. He took Fletcher outside to go for a walk. They were gone a short while and when they returned Ben was carrying a bag from the grocery store. I thought to myself "Good thinking Ben. Candy will quiet him down." Isn't that what a normal person would have bought their child to shut them up? Not my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;husband&lt;/span&gt;. He seriously pulled out a bag of long skinny balloons and a pump. I did not know you could even purchase these items at a grocery store, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;apparently&lt;/span&gt; you can. What happened next amazed me. Ben actually started making balloon animals for Fletcher and his friend. And not crappy balloon animals- good balloon animals! He swears he has never done it before but I'm not so sure about that. He knew all too well exactly how much air to fill in the balloon so that he could get the perfect twist. You should have seen him. It was truly a spectacular spectacle. The best part was that Fletcher figured out that he could use the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;shards&lt;/span&gt; of glass growing out of the tip of his fingers (note to self: clip Fletcher's fingernails) to pop the balloons. He would say "I pop the doggy", and then jam his nail into the balloon. He laughed and laughed. Then Ben would whip up another balloon creature and POP! It was truly a proud moment for me. I don't think I was the only one impressed either. As the girls were let out of cheer one of their friends asked Cali in all seriousness, "Was your dad in a circus?" My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;husband&lt;/span&gt; the clown! Gotta love him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-3132214658689063044?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/3132214658689063044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=3132214658689063044' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3132214658689063044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/3132214658689063044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/10/ben-wears-big-shoes.html' title='Ben wears big shoes'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-7224160881929345386</id><published>2007-10-14T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T10:50:17.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The list continues...</title><content type='html'>#11. Macey got lice.&lt;br /&gt;When oh when will it end?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-7224160881929345386?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/7224160881929345386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=7224160881929345386' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7224160881929345386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/7224160881929345386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/10/list-continues.html' title='The list continues...'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-4368003568929063637</id><published>2007-10-11T16:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T17:24:20.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parenting 101</title><content type='html'>Some days parenting comes easier to me than others. Today I thought my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;impromptu&lt;/span&gt; soccer practice with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Macey&lt;/span&gt; would be fun. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Apparently&lt;/span&gt; throwing a ball at her and yelling "kick it harder!" and "be more aggressive!" until she cries may not have been the best use of our 45 minutes of "quality time" together. Let's just say it ended with her telling me "you know mom, you're not a real coach." I thought about this for a bit and eventually had a conversation with Ben about how I need to learn how to have more compassion and to be more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sensitive&lt;/span&gt; to our kid's feelings. I vowed to work on this and was optimistic about my willingness to change. I have decided that I am just not a very nice person because not more than 2 minutes later I walked upstairs to find Cali on the computer typing something.  Now maybe it was just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;coincidence&lt;/span&gt;, or maybe my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;new found&lt;/span&gt; compassion was being put to the test, but when asked what she was doing, this was her response, "I'm writing a song for my band." Are you kidding me?! I think I lack the thing in your brain that stops you from laughing at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;inappropriate&lt;/span&gt; moments because I don't think I could have laughed at a worse moment. I may have single &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;handedly&lt;/span&gt; destroyed a little girl's dream of becoming a rock star. Needless to say I have a lot to work on and I am thankful that tomorrow always brings a new day. I have a lot of ice cream to buy tonight.&lt;br /&gt;In case you were curious, here is a copy of Cali's song that will never get recorded. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                          A Girl's Life    &lt;br /&gt;In a girl's life there is nothing better than you &lt;br /&gt;and there's a a lot of new things to do.&lt;br /&gt;You can be yourself&lt;br /&gt;and nobody will think it's you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it's hard but you'll be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just keep on going and you'll lead the way&lt;br /&gt;ha ha &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;haaaaaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just keep on going and you'll lead the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;aaaaaaaaa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sometimes you'll be sad or down in the dumps&lt;br /&gt;don't turn yourself into a clown&lt;br /&gt;and don't make a frown&lt;br /&gt;and don't make it sound&lt;br /&gt;like you're turning &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;some one's&lt;/span&gt; life upside down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it's hard but you'll be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just keep on going and you'll lead the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;waaaaaaaaaaaaay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ha&lt;br /&gt;(guitar solo)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa&lt;/span&gt; ya!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-4368003568929063637?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/4368003568929063637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=4368003568929063637' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4368003568929063637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/4368003568929063637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/10/parenting-101.html' title='Parenting 101'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-6468447022605944667</id><published>2007-10-09T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T10:29:30.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm really thirsty</title><content type='html'>So the Chicago marathon may not have ended up how I imagined it would, but it absolutely ended up how it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to. I know that I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to cross that line with Shannon and Jared. We experienced something that I don't think I can put in writing. I will never forget Kurt, or the lady at mile 24 yelling "Con &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;grat&lt;/span&gt; u lay &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;shons&lt;/span&gt;", or the man that gave me his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;popsicles&lt;/span&gt;, or the man that collapsed to the ground right in front of us, or drinking hydrant water out of a cup I found on the ground, or the man that hugged me as he put my medal around my neck. So maybe I didn't get my 4:20 time. There will be other marathons but there will never be another Chicago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-6468447022605944667?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/6468447022605944667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=6468447022605944667' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6468447022605944667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/6468447022605944667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-really-thirsty.html' title='I&apos;m really thirsty'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-2885030995027734930</id><published>2007-10-02T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T18:20:38.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling good about myself.</title><content type='html'>I think God hates me. Here's why: 1.) I had to scrub toilets today for the first time in 4 years.  2.) The weather in Chicago is about 20 degrees hotter than it should be. Are you kidding me?! 3.)  Right now I am sporting a unibrow AND a mustache. 4.) I cannot find one single mango in the whole state of Texas. I think he is hiding them from me. 5.) I thought I was recording The Hills last night but when I went to watch it today (in between cleaning toilets) I was surprised to find that my kids had deleted my recording in order to record another episode of iCarly. 6.) I sweat like a man all the time. Not normal girly sweat, but crazy amounts of fluid pouring out of me at any given moment.  7.) I am the Stake Sports person for our stake. Yes, me. I have no idea what I am doing and I think people are starting to figure that out. 8.) Fletcher spilled a whole cup of apple juice on my side of the bed today. 9.) I live in Texas when everybody I care about lives somewhere else. And finally 10.) I cannot find one of my silver Haviannas. Again, I think he is hiding it from me. Maybe when I find a mango I will find my shoe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-2885030995027734930?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/2885030995027734930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=2885030995027734930' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2885030995027734930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2885030995027734930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/10/feeling-good-about-myself.html' title='Feeling good about myself.'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-2523420578449110611</id><published>2007-09-30T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T13:28:16.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween!!</title><content type='html'>I took the kids shopping for Halloween costumes. Cali wants to be a devil, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Macey&lt;/span&gt; wants to be a slutty cheerleader, and Fletcher wants to be Dora- not Diego- Dora. This is normal, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-2523420578449110611?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/2523420578449110611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=2523420578449110611' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2523420578449110611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/2523420578449110611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/09/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween!!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-177201068967680235</id><published>2007-09-28T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T17:58:50.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a great day to buy some crap!</title><content type='html'>Today I had a garage sale. People will buy ANYTHING! And by people I mean Mexicans. Racist but true. I made $500 just by setting some crap in my yard and posting a sign that reads: Yard Sale Fri. and Sat.. I can't wait to get up and do it again tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. If the lady that purchased my green and cream floral print dress is reading this, you may want to try it on before you wake up in a rush tomorrow morning to get ready for your friend's funeral (which by the way you were not too upset over). The dress is a size 8 and you my friend are not. But good luck with that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-177201068967680235?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/177201068967680235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=177201068967680235' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/177201068967680235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/177201068967680235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/09/its-great-day-to-buy-some-crap.html' title='It&apos;s a great day to buy some crap!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7345160742486870968.post-5485767986851182792</id><published>2007-09-27T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T11:05:28.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aahhh! The sweet smell of "powder fresh"!</title><content type='html'>So today I got to make a trip to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; (or as people in Texas call it The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;). It's been a slow month for us so I am trying to watch what I spend. Let's just say I've been using Ben's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;deoderant&lt;/span&gt; for the last 10 days (which by the way does nothing to stop my sweating like a man, but that's a whole other topic).  I was really excited about my purchase but not so excited about the process. I have issues with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;. Not just with the people that work there, but with the people that shop there. This may come as a shock to some, but I can be somewhat judgemental at times. It's not that I think I am better than &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; folks, but rather I don't feel as though I have a lot in common with them. I "speak &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;English&lt;/span&gt;", and "take a shower every day", and live in a "house" not a "trailer". But there I was, three kids and all,  making my way to the hygiene aisle giving everyone my best sympathetic smile as I went. I am especially nice to the greeter. As I pull my powder fresh scent Secret off the shelf I feel a warm hand on my back. It was a lady in her 40's, nicely dressed, trying to pass me. After all, we did have the cart with the double seat attachment on the front, because that's half the fun of going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;- trying to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;maneuver&lt;/span&gt; that thing through the store. Anyway, as she passed she gave me a little pat and a smile- the same smile as I just got through giving Hamid the greeter! I realized in that moment that I was to her what everyone else there is to me. I'm sure she thought "poor single mother of three. She must of gotten pregnant in high school. And she is probably on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;WIC&lt;/span&gt;." I know what she is thinking because I think the same thoughts. I wanted to tell her that my husband is a dentist and we're just having a slow month, but I didn't. Instead I took some time to reflect. I really need to try a little harder to be a little less judgemental. I'm sure the lady wearing the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;gauchos&lt;/span&gt; with tennis shoes and a football jersey with 40 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;barrettes&lt;/span&gt; in her hair is just having a slow month too! God bless The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7345160742486870968-5485767986851182792?l=edmundsfam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/feeds/5485767986851182792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7345160742486870968&amp;postID=5485767986851182792' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5485767986851182792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7345160742486870968/posts/default/5485767986851182792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edmundsfam.blogspot.com/2007/09/aahhh-sweet-smell-of-powder-fresh.html' title='Aahhh! The sweet smell of &quot;powder fresh&quot;!'/><author><name>edmundsfam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02936676569813573473</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
