<?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-4000631380329435562</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:53:13.993-07:00</updated><category term='72 Hour Kits'/><category term='Tag'/><category term='Confession'/><category term='Pregnancy'/><category term='talking'/><category term='Paris Hilton'/><category term='Cooking'/><category term='Nursery'/><category term='Sundays'/><category term='kitchens'/><category term='President Hinckley'/><category term='BYU'/><category term='work out'/><category term='sleep'/><category term='dishes'/><category term='vacuum'/><category term='snacks'/><category term='4 year olds'/><category term='laundry'/><category term='LOVE/HATE'/><category term='food'/><category term='Diapers'/><category term='Dinner'/><category term='Primary Partners'/><category term='Recipe Exchange'/><category term='Family Home Evening'/><category term='obsessive/compulsive behaviors'/><category term='grocery store'/><category term='questions'/><category term='cleaning'/><category term='Books'/><title type='text'>True Confessions of a (not so) Holly Homemaker</title><subtitle type='html'>Because not everyone can do everything all the time...yet we feel guilty when we don't</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-1823738682219321414</id><published>2008-05-21T21:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T22:10:51.563-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #27  I Actually Liked High School</title><content type='html'>Or at least I thought I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night, my husband and I had a great conversation about what we were like as teenagers. I decided that had we met in high school, nothing would have happened between us. We were SO different. We each had to do a lot of growing before it would work out between us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In high school, I wasn't the most social person in our school, and I prefered to hang out with my family on the weekends mostly. I had a great group of friends, though. We didn't do much on the weekends, but we went to lunch together almost every day (we had an open campus) either at some fun place or at one of our houses. We talked a lot and we were involved in mostly the same extra curricular activities. As far as sporting events, I went to the football games, but that was because I was in the band. My "groupies" were not in the band. I never felt like high school was terrible...I had no enemies, I had friends, and I had fun. I still keep in touch with many of my high school friends, although, as with most high school friends, not to the extent I thought I would. And, I also got decent grades. Okay...very good grades. I seemed to have it all. Saying all that...I have NEVER wanted to go back to high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband, on the other hand, had very different experience. He was, self-admittedly, a nerd in high school. He had only a couple of friends and their idea of fun was to do their calculus homework together. He doesn't keep in touch with any of them. Peter was also not involved in many extra curricular activities. I think he was in the chess club for one semester and in one of their school plays as a chorus person. He quit both of those because they infringed on his study time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were talking about our experiences in high school, I realized that despite the fact that I had fun in high school and I thought I liked who I was back then, I knew absolutely nothing. I was your typical self-absorbed teenager who thought only of herself. I felt like I deserved everything just for being me. I was mouthy to my parents. I told a few "white lies" that I shouldn't have. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this conversation, I realized that high school was not as great as I thought it was. I have learned so much since then. I have found parts of me that I never knew existed. For example, I never knew that I had such and intense love for cooking back then. I never knew that I had the ability to be friends with others who walked such different paths than I did. I never knew that I had a place in my heart for abused women and children and that it could take up so much space in my heart. I did always know that more than anything, I wanted to be a mom, but I never knew what joy could fill your heart just watching your two little boys giggle together over some private joke. I never knew that I was attractive to someone. I never knew that I enjoyed doing things that "Holly Homemaker" would do...cooking, cleaning, organizing, baking bread, quilting, card making, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, did I like high school? Yes I did. Was it wonderful? No it wasn't. Would I go back? Nope. Am I glad to be where I am today? Yup. Do I hope to know even more about myself 10, 20, 30, or even 50 years down the road? Sure thing. But as with high school, while I'm living it, I can like it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go class of 1996!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-1823738682219321414?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/1823738682219321414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=1823738682219321414&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1823738682219321414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1823738682219321414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/05/confession-27-i-actually-liked-high.html' title='Confession #27  I Actually Liked High School'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-5629988521500420444</id><published>2008-05-15T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T13:37:22.523-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What to Blog About?</title><content type='html'>Today is an odd day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I had an early doctor's appointment. I was done by 8:15am. But when I got home, it felt like I had been awake for hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was supposed to switch babysitting with a friend and she never brought her kids over...or called. Which is actually okay with me because I could go return some things and run to the bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I was so tired I put a movie on for my kids and took a nap. But I think Piglet changed the clock in my room (which he does often) because when I woke up, I thought I had slept for two hours! It was only one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rushed downstairs thinking that the kids would be starving and that it was way past lunch time. Then I looked at the clock. I stopped rushing around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the oddest part of all. I find that I have time to blog, but nothing to blog about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you ask about the baby. Doing fine so far. Pretty typical. Around 32 weeks it gets dicey. I find out next week if it's a boy or a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently went to a baby shower for a baby girl. I absolutely loved the clothes. It made me want a girl. Which is strange. Actually, wanting a girl is not strange. Wanting a girl so I can dress her up and make her cute is strange. I am not quite a tom boy, but I'm certainly not a girly girl either. I don't like dressing up. I don't enjoy spending hours doing my hair and makeup. I hate the color pink. Yet, I want a little girl so I can put ribbons in her hair and pink cute dresses on her. And goodness gracious...I want the baby girl shoes. I want to make her look dainty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now that I've written it down, I'll be getting a boy...Just wait and see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-5629988521500420444?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/5629988521500420444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=5629988521500420444&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5629988521500420444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5629988521500420444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-to-blog-about.html' title='What to Blog About?'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-3093865277086212165</id><published>2008-05-13T15:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T15:18:37.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Have A Visitor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;We put out one of these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199989717295611202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SCoTGN8WvUI/AAAAAAAAAJU/SLft1X42F0k/s400/IMG_1033.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loaded it up with this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199989725885545810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SCoTGt8WvVI/AAAAAAAAAJc/D7IWPS_dOAY/s400/IMG_1034.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And look who came to visit! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199989730180513122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SCoTG98WvWI/AAAAAAAAAJk/gZq_B5ZsICw/s400/IMG_1030.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199989734475480434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SCoTHN8WvXI/AAAAAAAAAJs/F5osoncigkw/s400/IMG_1029.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Check out that amazing gymnastic feat.  Could you do that and not fall off?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-3093865277086212165?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/3093865277086212165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=3093865277086212165&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/3093865277086212165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/3093865277086212165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/05/we-have-visitor.html' title='We Have A Visitor'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SCoTGN8WvUI/AAAAAAAAAJU/SLft1X42F0k/s72-c/IMG_1033.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-1912680232008254327</id><published>2008-05-07T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T13:07:16.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pseudo-Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SCIL3YRxiNI/AAAAAAAAAJM/eIzouTn89eE/s1600-h/spring+weather.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197729965976684754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SCIL3YRxiNI/AAAAAAAAAJM/eIzouTn89eE/s200/spring+weather.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here in the northwest, we have, what I have dubbed Pseudo-Spring. It's not quite spring and it's not quite winter still. We have a few tantalizing days of sun and then WHAMM-O! Rain and overcast skies, again! Some of you are sitting there saying to yourself, "Well, duh! It's the northwest!" And you may have a point there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's just on the edge of spring and I'm waiting, rather unpatiently, for it to be full blown spring. While we were in Utah, we had a couple of days that were warm enough for short sleeves. During the drive home, I had envisioned a warm, sunny spring time just waiting for me and my kids to get out there and do something. Alas...I'm home and have been for a week. No such luck. No sunny skies. No warm afternoons. Mostly cold, windy, and sometimes rainy days. Bleck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My kids are both growing so fast. It's time to pull out the clothes that are one size bigger. I'm putting it off until the last minute. I refuse to pull out the clothes that are long sleeves. So I'm waiting until it's warm enough to pull out the shorts and t-shirts. I might have to wait awhile. And in the mean time, we suffer from what every household with little boys (and girls, for that matter) suffers from...holes in the knees of all the pants. It seems like every time I do laundry there is ANOTHER pair with holes worn right through. Spring, please get here! You can't wear holes through the knees of shorts! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-1912680232008254327?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/1912680232008254327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=1912680232008254327&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1912680232008254327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1912680232008254327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/05/pseudo-spring.html' title='Pseudo-Spring'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SCIL3YRxiNI/AAAAAAAAAJM/eIzouTn89eE/s72-c/spring+weather.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-2687179448253528787</id><published>2008-05-06T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T13:52:08.491-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning'/><title type='text'>Confession #26  I Don't Really Do Spring Cleaning</title><content type='html'>I'm an organizing junkie. I love watching the organizing shows. I love purchasing containers of any sort. I love being able to divide things into categories...even if it is a "Miscellaneous" category. I love my label maker. I love having things color coordinated. I don't have to do this kind of stuff just in the spring, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit that the nicer weather gets me more motivated to get moving, but I would rather be outside than inside cleaning! I like to think that I can do my cleaning all winter. Except I don't really. There are a few things that I can keep up with really well...the kitchen, the laundry, and generally everything has it's own place and is usually in it. There are a few that I'm not so good at. These are the things that many people would consider their Spring Cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dusting is terrible here. I can't even count the number of cobwebs that I have seen lately. The thought, "Just get a duster and get rid of it!" crosses my mind every time I see one. But do I actually go and get the duster. Nope. The duster is never close enough to me. It's always downstairs in the laundry room. And when I see a cobweb, I generally am doing something else and don't have the time to stop RIGHT NOW and get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another one that is terrible here is my mini blinds. Every day when I open my blinds I notice how dusty they are. But I never manage to take the time to set a day aside and clean them. I've heard of putting them in your bathtub to clean them, but I guess I'm just not smart enough to figure out how to get them down. The ones in the kitchen right behind the sink are the worst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other one that I don't manage to do is to shampoo my carpets. Sure, I get out the carpet cleaner when there are obvious stains. But they never get really clean. I'm too cheap to pay for it...and good grief. I'M RENTING! (But we've lived here for 4 years and the carpets haven't been cleaned yet.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm curious. Are you guys into Spring Cleaning? And do you really get some of the nitty gritty stuff done or is it mostly dejunking (which I do all the time)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-2687179448253528787?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/2687179448253528787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=2687179448253528787&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/2687179448253528787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/2687179448253528787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/05/confession-26-i-dont-really-do-spring.html' title='Confession #26  I Don&apos;t Really Do Spring Cleaning'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-594539022426875016</id><published>2008-05-05T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T16:54:19.558-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #25  Answering the Phone is not Always a Priority</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SB-eET-MNII/AAAAAAAAAI8/Og86dTDohVg/s1600-h/Telephone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197046291926627458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SB-eET-MNII/AAAAAAAAAI8/Og86dTDohVg/s320/Telephone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not one of those people that screen every phone call I get. We are extremely poor right now while Peter is in school and therefore, no caller ID. I couldn't screen them even if I wanted to. But I have to admit, sometimes I just don't want to get off my butt to answer the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time it is even someone I don't mind talking to. We have our number on the &lt;a href="https://www.donotcall.gov/"&gt;Do Not Call list &lt;/a&gt;and it seems to be working fairly well. Usually the people calling me are friends from the ward, family members, or my husband. All of those are fine people to talk to. It just so happens that these people have this knack for calling only a few minutes after I have sat down for the first time that day to watch &lt;a href="http://www.rachaelrayshow.com/"&gt;The Rachael Ray show&lt;/a&gt;. It's one of the few shows I get to watch regularly and I guess I'm just selfish about it. I don't want to talk to anyone during that time. Tigger is down for his nap and Piglet loves watching the show just as much as I do. So often, I just don't answer the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that today I hadn't answered the phone. I suppose it was nothing too terrible, but it was something that I wanted to put off as long as possible. This time, it was the doctor's office calling. If you remember a &lt;a href="http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/04/confession-24-im-late.html"&gt;previous post about all the things I hate about being pregnant&lt;/a&gt;, this was one of those things. The doctor's office called to remind me to do my 12 hour urine collection. I don't know how many of you have ever had to do this, but it stinks...literally. You have to collect all your urine and refrigerate it in an orange jug the size of a milk carton. First of all, the thought of having that in my refrigerator next to my food revolts me. Second of all, it is terribly embarrassing to walk into the doctor's office carrying this huge orange jug carrying all of my pee. Good grief. Let's be a bit conspicuous, shall we?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are wondering why they do it, I'll tell you. My pregnancies are high risk because I'm extremely hypertensive during pregnancy. One of the first signs of pre-eclampsia is that your kidneys stop working. When this happens, you get proteins in your urine that aren't supposed to be there. This is why they collect it. To make sure my kidneys are working correctly. I should be grateful that modern medicine has made it possible for me to have babies because had I lived 100 years ago, or even crossed the plains, I would be dead from complications with my first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now I'm off to the doctor's office to get the huge orange jug to go in my refrigerator. What fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I'm just glad I don't have the job of running the tests on all my urine! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-594539022426875016?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/594539022426875016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=594539022426875016&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/594539022426875016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/594539022426875016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/05/confession-25-answering-phone-is-not.html' title='Confession #25  Answering the Phone is not Always a Priority'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/SB-eET-MNII/AAAAAAAAAI8/Og86dTDohVg/s72-c/Telephone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-549789778456406192</id><published>2008-05-04T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T15:39:10.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Just In...</title><content type='html'>Contrary to public belief, Holly Homemaker is not quitting her blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have just returned back into town after a bit of a trip for a vacation. I wish I could say that it was all great, but like most trips, there were parts that I wish hadn't happened. Overall though, it was a great outing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped first at my in-laws where my kids love to stay. The next morning we headed off to Salt Lake. This was the bulk of our travel...10 hours. The kids were champion travelers and we only used the portable DVD player for one movie during that long stretch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to my brother's house and the kids were excited to see their only cousins. Not much playing could be done because early the next morning we had to be at the temple to see my brother get sealed to his beautiful bride. The kids stayed with my unendowed sisters on the temple grounds while we were inside. They don't know their aunts very well, so they were a bit leery of us leaving them. I'm happy to say that by the end of the trip, they knew their aunts quite well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wedding day was beautiful and I wish that I had some fabulous pics to share. I only managed to get a couple and even those weren't so good because one was blurry and another had someone else's hand in it. Oh well. As long as they have pictures of their day! For the luncheon, the kids went with Peter's sister and played at the park and even fed the ducks. They had dinosaur mac and cheese which, apparently is okay to eat, because they don't eat mac and cheese when I make it. That night the reception was beautiful and the kids were even pretty well behaved...after a bit of a nap in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the trip we visited various relatives...more aunts and uncles, grandparents, great grand parents. Many of the other activities blurred together, but we had lots of fun. We played baseball, had picnics, played more baseball, went to story time at the library, went to the Bean Museum at BYU, and played more baseball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew it was all too good to be true. The night before our 10 hour drive back to the in-laws, Tigger got sick. Vomiting sick. We went ahead with the drive. Piglet soon joined him. We were catching vomit in any container that we could. We finally made it to the in-laws. Piglet got over it quickly. Tigger kept up with the vomit, diarrhea, and listlessness for about 4 days total. We are so glad that's over!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a great trip, but I'm glad it's over. That was one of my big stresses from the last few weeks. I would like to think it's all going to tone down and get a bit easier now, but I know better. Thanks for sticking with the blog even though they seem to be few and far in between now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-549789778456406192?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/549789778456406192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=549789778456406192&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/549789778456406192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/549789778456406192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/05/this-just-in.html' title='This Just In...'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-5048093195269584570</id><published>2008-04-17T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T16:56:02.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An Add on to Yesterday</title><content type='html'>I may HATE being pregnant, but there isn't anyone in the world who can tell me it's not worth it. Isn't that part of being a mother? Somehow all the painful, hard, disgusting, and draining parts disappear, or at least lessen, when we see the child that comes out. And often times, the reward is so great, we sign up to do it all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom sent me the following in an email. My mom and I have never had the best relationship. I was a hard teenager for her and we are only now starting to grow together the way I think we both want. I think it's happening mostly because my dad died and I can't imagine what it must be like to be in her shoes right about now. This email meant so much to me because of our somewhat rocky relationship. Read it, and weep like I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Being a Mom...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of starting a family. 'We're taking a survey,' she says half-joking. 'Do you think I should have a baby?' 'It will change your life,' I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. 'I know,' she says, 'no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, 'What if that had been MY child?' That every plane crash and every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of 'Mom!' will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation. I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that rest-room. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want her to know that a Cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, and not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk&lt;br /&gt;driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts. My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. 'You'll never regret it,' I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-5048093195269584570?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/5048093195269584570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=5048093195269584570&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5048093195269584570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5048093195269584570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/04/add-on-to-yesterday.html' title='An Add on to Yesterday'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-7804800573157740137</id><published>2008-04-16T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T17:16:12.600-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pregnancy'/><title type='text'>Confession #24  I'm Late</title><content type='html'>And I don't mean late to work/church/appointments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm 15 weeks late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You remember that last post about thinking it's time to eliminate something? I think I need to, I just don't know what to start with. Lately I feel like I am barely keeping my head afloat. Any minute now I'm going to start drowning because I'm wearing myself out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have something scheduled every morning of the week. It requires me to get out of the house by 9 or 9:30 every morning. The things I have scheduled are actually all good things. I swap babysitting with a neighbor each week. This was an attempt to have at least ONE morning a week when I went to the gym. It's not turning into that. How ironic that the mornings I scheduled for ME TIME have turned into NOT ME TIME. I have doctor's appointments, Visiting Teaching (Hello?!?! 5 active sisters on my route), Kindergarten Registration, and a million other things that come up that prevent me from going to the gym.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other things scheduled are playgroups (some of which I don't even go to...), preschool for Piglet, and presidency meetings. This is on top of the regular chores: laundry, cooking, dishes, bathrooms, etc. And because Peter is in the bishopric, he's busy too and he can't always be available to me. These are all good things. This is what makes it so hard to decide what to eliminate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to top all that off...I'm pregnant. I'm sorry, but you women out there who love being pregnant...what are you smoking?!?! Because I want some! I HATE being pregnant. I hate being so tired that every day things exhaust me. I hate feeling fat. I hate knowing that I'm going to be on bed rest at the end. I hate stressing about what is going to happen to my family when I AM on bed rest. I hate getting heart burn all the time. I hate how you can't fit through spaces that you used to be able to fit. I hate trying to hurry and get off the couch when the phone rings so you can answer it. I hate it when I get so big I can hardly take a normal breath of air. I hate how swollen I get. I hate going to a million and one doctor's appointments because I'm high risk. I hate having to find babysitters for said million and one doctor's appointments. I hate feeling so worn down I can't devote the time I want to my kids. I hate having to collect my urine just to make sure I don't have a kidney infection. (They usually make me do this about 3 times for the duration of my pregnancies.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I shouldn't complain. I don't get morning sickness too badly. Just a bit of an upset stomach (at night with this one.) I don't get gestational diabetes. I don't ever go over my due date. In fact, I usually get induced at 37 weeks. This means tiny babies that come out with one push. But all this doesn't make up for all the things I hate about being pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, the thing I love about being pregnant is the fact that I get to hold my own little newborn. You all know how indescribable that feeling is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's it. That's my confession. That's why my blogging has suffered. That's why I'm barely staying afloat. That's why I am the way I am...take it or leave it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-7804800573157740137?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/7804800573157740137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=7804800573157740137&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/7804800573157740137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/7804800573157740137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/04/confession-24-im-late.html' title='Confession #24  I&apos;m Late'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-9094873946304735704</id><published>2008-04-08T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T16:38:37.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Joke for You</title><content type='html'>I realized that I haven't posted for awhile. There is much happening around here. We've had company, extra church meetings, neighborhood meetings, etc. Sometimes I feel like my life is happening as fast as I can keep up with it! It's approaching that point where I have to look at all the things I do and decide which of them needs to be eliminated. More on that later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, because I am a bit short on time, I thought I'd just share with you a joke that my younger brother told me years ago. It is one of the few jokes that I can always remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can you tell Ronald McDonald on a nude beach?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By his sesame seed buns...of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy day to everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-9094873946304735704?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/9094873946304735704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=9094873946304735704&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/9094873946304735704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/9094873946304735704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/04/little-joke-for-you.html' title='A Little Joke for You'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-8142356325804257914</id><published>2008-04-01T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T13:22:03.079-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #23  My Family Home Evening Lessons Aren't Always Stellar</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R_KZKWcsnzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/yBfO-36r6NQ/s1600-h/Family+Home+Evening.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184374524160548658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R_KZKWcsnzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/yBfO-36r6NQ/s320/Family+Home+Evening.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;But last night's was!! In fact, it was so good, that I though I'd blog about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked about the Word of Wisdom from Doctrine and Covenants Section 89. We talked about how following the Word of Wisdom will make our bodies strong and it will make us run fast, and it will make us think clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now comes the fun part. I had spent some time before hand looking at the weekly ads that come from the grocery store. I cut out pictures of things in the ads and then glued each one to an index card. I got pictures of all kinds of things...fruits, vegetables, yogurt, cheese, milk, nuts, ice cream, chips, beer, wine, tea, coffee, etc. We had three little sack lunch bags one labeled "Yes", another labeled "No" and the third labeled "Sometimes." The kids took turns picking one of the index cards and then deciding which bag it went into. They had tons of fun and even Tigger was getting into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there you go. A great idea for your next Family Home Evening Lesson. This could also work well talking about the different food groups and teaching your family about the food pyramid! Have fun with it and let me know how it works for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Image taken from lds.org.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-8142356325804257914?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/8142356325804257914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=8142356325804257914&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8142356325804257914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8142356325804257914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/04/confession-23-my-family-home-evening.html' title='Confession #23  My Family Home Evening Lessons Aren&apos;t Always Stellar'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R_KZKWcsnzI/AAAAAAAAAI0/yBfO-36r6NQ/s72-c/Family+Home+Evening.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-4858296151532350407</id><published>2008-03-28T10:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T10:08:32.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Kind of Shoe are You?</title><content type='html'>So, I did this quiz and it was so right!!! I think I have about 10 pairs of flip flops in my closet right now and of course, summer is coming so I'll have to get more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are Flip Flops&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindofshoeareyouquiz/flipflops.gif" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are laid back and very friendly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheery and sunny in disposition, you usually have something to smile about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Style is important to you, as long as you can stay casual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lot to get you to dress up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a loyal and true person, though you can be a bit of a flake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tend to "play hooky" and blow off responsibilities a lot more than most people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should live: By the beach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should work: At a casual up and coming company&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofshoeareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Shoe Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-4858296151532350407?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/4858296151532350407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=4858296151532350407&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4858296151532350407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4858296151532350407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/03/what-kind-of-shoe-are-you.html' title='What Kind of Shoe are You?'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-1129531636514561607</id><published>2008-03-24T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T10:57:01.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confession #22  I Love Hearing The National Anthem</title><content type='html'>I don't know about you guys, but there is just something about The Star Spangled Banner that makes me tingle inside. I love hearing it sung. It makes me feel this incredible pride in being an American.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't come from a family deeply involved in the military. Frankly, I've always been a bit scared of it because of the possibility of death. I have always had a deep admiration for those people who voluntarily give of their time and some their lives for keeping alive the freedoms that we enjoy. When I hear the Star Spangled Banner it always makes me just a bit more optimistic about those men and women in the military keeping us safe for at least one more day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following is a fantastic group called the Cactus Cuties singing the National Anthem at a basketball game at Texas Tech University. Amazing! Hope you enjoy it, too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QKCVS57j284&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QKCVS57j284&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-1129531636514561607?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/1129531636514561607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=1129531636514561607&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1129531636514561607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1129531636514561607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/03/confession-22-i-love-hearing-national.html' title='Confession #22  I Love Hearing The National Anthem'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-9142779340855843609</id><published>2008-03-19T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T11:02:00.952-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='72 Hour Kits'/><title type='text'>Follow Up to Confession #2</title><content type='html'>Way back when I started this blog, &lt;a href="http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-2-i-dont-have-current-72.html"&gt;I had written a post about having an updated 72 hour kit&lt;/a&gt;. I thought that too often my posts might sound like I'm not good at anything...when really I am. I just thought I'd give you a bit of an update on how I have remedied one of my very first confessions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am happy to report that now I have an updated 72 hour kit. I have the right size of diapers and I also have underwear for Piglet. There are two pairs of clothes for everyone...one for warm weather and one for cool weather. I have all the food groups represented and I even have a can opener to open the tuna. I have whistles for everyone and enough glow sticks to last for awhile. I have first aid basics and at least two flashlights in it. There is cash broken up into smaller bills and we even have colored pencils and coloring books for the kids. I'm sure that we don't have everything that could go into a 72 hour kit, but at least we have it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ya wanna see?!?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181369653371117314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R-fsP2csnwI/AAAAAAAAAIc/tO-kVDbgHJU/s320/IMG_0983.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181369657666084626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R-fsQGcsnxI/AAAAAAAAAIk/vquKsMAaYWA/s320/IMG_0984.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got the idea to put it into a (clean) rolling trash can from a friend. It's not too heavy for me to lift into the trunk of my van and it has a handle that makes it easy to roll. I used to keep it in duffel bags. I found those to be hard to carry because you had to carry about 4 of them each. This has turned out to be the best solution for us. I also keep a case of water bottles in the van under the seats in the stow-and-go storage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, this time I can say that I've fixed one of my confessions!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-9142779340855843609?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/9142779340855843609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=9142779340855843609&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/9142779340855843609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/9142779340855843609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/03/follow-up-to-confession-2.html' title='Follow Up to Confession #2'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R-fsP2csnwI/AAAAAAAAAIc/tO-kVDbgHJU/s72-c/IMG_0983.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-4315677352247218193</id><published>2008-03-14T16:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T20:27:32.985-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #21  My Kids Don't Brush Their Teeth in the Mornings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R9yTbf5a1GI/AAAAAAAAAH8/1uGmIvcNMEo/s1600-h/teeth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178175772197311586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R9yTbf5a1GI/AAAAAAAAAH8/1uGmIvcNMEo/s200/teeth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know. Isn't it terrible?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would describe myself as having average dental habits. I brush my teeth twice a day...morning and night. I don't floss unless I'm trying to get something out from between my teeth. I don't use any kind of mouthwash. I also don't drink soft drinks or suck on hard candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would also describe myself as having good genes and a fair amount of luck when it comes to my teeth. I never wore braces or retainers. I have naturally straight teeth. I think I've only had one cavity in my whole life. I have one wisdom tooth that is so far up, it will never come down and the other three just never existed, therefore, no wisdom teeth removal. I once didn't go to the dentist for 5 years (you know...after college, before I had insurance, when I was a poor newlywed, etc.) and when I finally went back, my teeth were still perfect. Not even much tartar build up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would also describe myself as "routine-less" in the mornings. This is the main reason why my kids don't brush their teeth. We get the important things done every day: getting dressed, eating breakfast together, and out the door with shoes and socks in tow even if they aren't actually on the feet yet. We even mostly get some of the "not-so-important" things done: making the beds, putting the pajamas away, the kitchen table cleared and wiped from any breakfast residue. These things just don't happen in any sort of predetermined order. This means that even though I have a mental list of what needs to be done, no one else knows what to do next, let alone if it is all done or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for the fall. Piglet will be in kindergarten. This means that he will have to be in the same place at the same time every day. I'm really hoping this helps us have a better routine. I've tried making charts for the kids with pictures of the things that need to get done in the morning, but quite unsuccessfully. And it's not my kids' fault, either. It's totally 100% mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe it or not, I really do want to teach my kids good dental health. Gum disease is often a sign of other things. We diligently brush their teeth every night. They each get a turn and then we do it after them to make sure we get everything. Besides being a sign of good health, nasty teeth and bad breath have social consequences, too. I mean, have you ever tried to talk to someone with bad, greying teeth? It's like you can't even look at them because it's so disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, now I'm curious. How do you guys teach your kids about oral health? And really, am I like the ONLY person who doesn't floss?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-4315677352247218193?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/4315677352247218193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=4315677352247218193&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4315677352247218193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4315677352247218193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/03/confession-21-my-kids-dont-brush-their.html' title='Confession #21  My Kids Don&apos;t Brush Their Teeth in the Mornings'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R9yTbf5a1GI/AAAAAAAAAH8/1uGmIvcNMEo/s72-c/teeth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-8398946524755219507</id><published>2008-03-12T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T08:41:07.769-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Try This</title><content type='html'>Try saying this 10 times as fast as you can:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;TOY BOAT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...that's what I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-8398946524755219507?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/8398946524755219507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=8398946524755219507&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8398946524755219507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8398946524755219507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/03/try-this.html' title='Try This'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-1678672859421478952</id><published>2008-03-10T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T11:59:36.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My little angel</title><content type='html'>There are just some moments when, as a mom, you look at your children and you can't believe how lucky you are. Yesterday and today, I had one of those moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday afternoon I had an awful headache. Even with medication, it wasn't going away...it would just change locations in my head. By the time we were getting kids ready for bed, I was literally dragging. As I reached up to the top bunk bed to give Piglet a kiss goodnight, it was evident that he knew something was wrong. He asked me if I was okay. I told him that I had a headache and that maybe one of his kisses would make it better. He leaned over and said, "I'll give you lots of kisses then." He gave me LOTS of kisses. And even about 5 minutes after I had left their room, he called me back in to give me LOTS more kisses. I absolutely love that kid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning the wonderfulness of being a mom continued. Piglet woke up first, got down from the bed, and went potty. Then he came in my room and the first thing he said is, "Is your headache gone?" When I told him it was, he started giving me LOTS of kisses again. It was one of those moments when you look at your child and you realize that they are worth 100% of what they put you through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, Piglet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-1678672859421478952?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/1678672859421478952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=1678672859421478952&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1678672859421478952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1678672859421478952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-little-angel.html' title='My little angel'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-8230411301249287891</id><published>2008-03-06T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T17:34:00.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What goes on at our house</title><content type='html'>Well, my blogging has been put on the back burner lately. There are a few reasons, one of which is POOP! At this point, if you're sensitive to the aforementioned word, you should stop reading because from here on out, you're going to hear a lot about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is my lot in life to deal with poop. My children both suffer with HUGE constipation issues. Believe me, we have tried all the tricks in the book. At least I think we have. We've tried fruit juice. I've tried being EXTREMELY attentive to their diets...but really, can you force a two year old to eat more veggies. HHmmm??? Nope. They just chew...and chew...and chew...and then throw up every thing else they have eaten because of their extreme gag reflex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried even homemade remedies made from things such as raisins, senna tea leaves, figs, etc. It even tasted like jam when I was done. Did that work? Nope. And we've even tried the suppositories when it's been really bad. After trying all these things, I FINALLY got a prescription for some wonderful stuff (the Miralax that's over the counter now) that really cleans them out. We started on a large dose and have been working our way down. It has really worked well for the constipation part, but it makes my job much more work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Tigger, it just means changing a LOT more soiled diapers. I think I'm on the 5th poopy one for just today. I feel so bad for him. He actually tries to hold it in. So much that when he has to go he stands there, shaking, crying, and working so hard to HOLD IT IN!! Good grief! When I see him doing this, I have to have extreme positive reinforcement for pushing it out. I've heard of the psychological phenomenon of kids thinking that they are loosing a part of them when they go, but it still doesn't make the whole thing any easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Piglet, it means much, much, much more. You see...he is actually potty trained. This constipation thing isn't all the time for him, but when it is happening (like right now) it doesn't matter that he used to do it on the potty. This means cleaning underwear. The medicine makes it so soft that the poor kid actually has NO control when it comes out. And of course, because he's potty trained, it makes him really upset. And without being too graphic (this entry IS about poop...) the medicine makes it terrible to clean up...if you get my drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last 24 hours, I have cleaned about 8 poopy diapers, 8 poopy pairs of underwear, 3 pairs of poopy pants, 1 pair of poopy pajamas, and the bathroom sink 8 times and (pun intended) &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I AM POOPED OUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-8230411301249287891?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/8230411301249287891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=8230411301249287891&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8230411301249287891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8230411301249287891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/03/what-goes-on-at-our-house.html' title='What goes on at our house'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-6528251631664318403</id><published>2008-03-03T11:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T12:17:40.513-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #20 -- I Procrastinate</title><content type='html'>I may not be THE QUEEN of procrastinating, but I'm pretty good at it. And this is one of those things that I've just accepted about myself. I have a slight desire to change it, but not big enough to actually do it. I just have other things to worry about right now...and always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the things I procrastinate doing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Making doctor's appointments for me and my kids. It's usually for the well child visits and the regular appointments. For some reason, I just can't pick up the phone. Whenever I think about making the appointments, I am either not by a phone or not by my calendar. Two very important things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Making Visiting Teaching appointments. Don't know why...I always like going. I probably procrastinate doing this because of some of the same reasons as the doctors appointments. I have lately started making appointments by email. I can send an email at 11pm whereas, I cannot call at 11pm. And they can respond at their leisure, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Preparing Sharing Times. I should know better. I'm the President and therefore will teach sharing time the 1st Sunday of each month. I know this. But somehow, the first Sunday always sneaks up on me. It's always the Saturday before when I start thinking about it and realizing that it's my turn to teach the next day. Of all the things I procrastinate, this is one that I shouldn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Packing for a trip. I love going on trips just as much as the next person. I also love coming home to a clean and organized house. This means that I spend the majority of the time before a trip cleaning and not packing. This one drives my husband crazy. He starts packing about 24 hours before he leaves on a trip. I start maybe a couple of hours before. It always reminds me of when I was in college one summer. I had the opportunity to go on a fantastic Alaskan Cruise. I had so much to do before I left (classes, my calling, cleaning, etc.) that I literally started packing 30 minutes before I left the house. I didn't forget anything then and I haven't forgotten anything since. I am TRULY okay with this procrastination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cleaning the Bathrooms. Enough said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Going to bed. &lt;a href="http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-6-peter-and-i-go-to-bed-way.html"&gt;As I have said before on this blog&lt;/a&gt;, Peter and I go to bed way too late. This one gets procrastinated because basically, it's too much work to get ready for bed. It's too much work to get in my jammies, brush my teeth, wash my face, read scriptures, say prayers, etc. It's so much work that I put off doing it in the hopes that it becomes less work. It never does.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've always been a procrastinator.  In high school and college I was always up late the night before a big paper or project was due.   There is something about a high pressure situation (like papers and projects due) that make me concentrate better.  I wouldn't go so far as to say that it is better work, mostly because I don't have anything to compare it to.  I've never done something early.  Why do today what I can put off until tomorrow?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-6528251631664318403?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/6528251631664318403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=6528251631664318403&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6528251631664318403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6528251631664318403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/03/confession-20-i-procrastinate.html' title='Confession #20 -- I Procrastinate'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-3097273095302131820</id><published>2008-02-29T15:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T16:19:13.771-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Pass the Test?</title><content type='html'>So, I didn't write this and I don't know who did. I got it from a friend of mine who emailed it to me. I thought it was cute! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*The Mom Test*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was out walking with my 4 year old daughter. She picked up something off the ground and started to put it in her mouth. I took the item away from her and I asked her not to do that.&lt;br /&gt;'Why?' my daughter asked.&lt;br /&gt;'Because it's been on the ground, you don't know where it's been, it's dirty, and probably has germs' I replied.&lt;br /&gt;At this point, my daughter looked at me with total admiration and asked, 'Momma, how do you know all this stuff, you are so smart.'&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking quickly. 'All moms know this stuff. It's on the Mom Test. You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Mom.' &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently pondering this new&lt;br /&gt;information.&lt;br /&gt;'OH...I get it!' she beamed, 'So if you don't pass the test you have to be the dad.'&lt;br /&gt;'Exactly.' I replied back with a big smile on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R8ifAgWtgcI/AAAAAAAAAHs/aZj_BvfiXJQ/s1600-h/A%2B.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172559003069022658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R8ifAgWtgcI/AAAAAAAAAHs/aZj_BvfiXJQ/s200/A%2B.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I don't know about you, but sometimes, I am darn pleased with myself and the answers I come up with for my kids. Sometimes I think I am absolutely brilliant because an idea comes to me and the kids actually love it. Sometimes we actually have days go by here when no child gets put in time out and they actually help clean up their room before bed time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R8ifAwWtgdI/AAAAAAAAAH0/QDYTyDG2Uqs/s1600-h/F.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172559007363989970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R8ifAwWtgdI/AAAAAAAAAH0/QDYTyDG2Uqs/s200/F.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Other times, I know I fail "The Mom Test" miserably. I often wish that I was a doctor, a psychologist, an accountant, a plumber, a car mechanic, a nutritionist, a personal trainer, and an elementary school teacher as well as being a mother. If I was all those things, then I would have all the answers. Right? I would know when to take my kids to the doctor. I would know how to change my own oil in my car instead of waiting with two kids in the "oh so clean" waiting room. I wouldn't worry about Piglet saying his "L" sounds because I would know how to fix it. I could do my own taxes and feel without-a-doubt comfortable when I signed them and mailed them in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The truth of the matter is that even if I was all those things, I wouldn't have all the answers. Things would still happen where there isn't a right answer. That's when I remind myself that I'm doing the best I can with what I have and I can always make improvements. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pictures from &lt;a href="http://www.jupiterimages.com/"&gt;www.jupiterimages.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-3097273095302131820?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/3097273095302131820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=3097273095302131820&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/3097273095302131820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/3097273095302131820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/do-you-pass-test.html' title='Do You Pass the Test?'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R8ifAgWtgcI/AAAAAAAAAHs/aZj_BvfiXJQ/s72-c/A%2B.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-875310550273839426</id><published>2008-02-26T18:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T12:13:27.840-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #19  I Don't Write in a Journal</title><content type='html'>This one actually makes me feel extremely guilty. I come from a family of RECORD KEEPERS. And I mean RECORD KEEPERS. My mother, not only has written her own life history, but has written one for each of her 8 children that accounts for the time until they left home...18ish. My grandmother's life history is full of lists. Lists of all of the wards she has lived in, all of the callings she has held, all of the choirs that she participated in, all of the places she has visited, and much, much more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been taught from an early age that records are important things. I agree. I have learned much about relatives from reading their records. After my dad died, my aunt collected and put togther a book of memories that his 7 siblings and their parents had. It is a priceless collection. I have learned much about my great, great grandmother (who lived during polygamy) and whenever I get my girl, she will be named after her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I don't keep a journal to record my thoughts, I still have many forms of records. I label the back of ALL of my pictures so that one day I won't wonder who it is. My family exchanges emails once a week that talk about what is happening in our lives...and I print those and keep them together. I write down all the funny things that the kids say and keep them together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the records that I keep, I shouldn't feel so guilty that I don't keep a daily journal. The older I get and the more I have on my plate, the more I think that writing in a journal because I feel guilty isn't the best way. It would turn into a chore rather than something I enjoy. I don't have time for more chores. So, I guess I'm just saying that I may not write in a journal, but what I'm doing right now to keep a history is just going to have to be okay for right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-875310550273839426?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/875310550273839426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=875310550273839426&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/875310550273839426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/875310550273839426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession-19-i-dont-write-in-journal.html' title='Confession #19  I Don&apos;t Write in a Journal'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-5098953629011145318</id><published>2008-02-26T09:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T15:59:41.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How Did You Do?</title><content type='html'>Awhile ago I posted a game called &lt;a href="http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/ten-points.html"&gt;Ten Points&lt;/a&gt;. Basically it's a quiz to see how many movies that I watch that you also watch enough to get these quotes. You get 10 points for each correct answer with a total of 100 points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the answers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Sound of Music&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finding Nemo&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;While You Were Sleeping&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Parent Trap (the one with Hayley Mills)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Toy Story&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pride and Prejudice (with Colin Firth)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cars&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A Grand Day Out (a Wallace and Gromit short)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Princess Bride&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sense and Sensibility&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;How did you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-5098953629011145318?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/5098953629011145318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=5098953629011145318&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5098953629011145318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5098953629011145318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/how-did-you-do.html' title='How Did You Do?'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-5192193573132309027</id><published>2008-02-23T11:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T11:23:27.676-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #18 -- I'm the Second Worst Back Seat Driver</title><content type='html'>And I'm only the second worst because my kids are the first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a year a go when I was teaching Piglet more of his colors we looked for colors when we were driving around in the car. Red and green were the colors we found the most. He soon learned wheat red and green mean. Now he tells me at every opportunity he gets: "Stop Mom!", "Go, mom, it's green!", "Don't slow down, it's green.", "Don't hit that car, mom!", "You're too close!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It drives me batty some times! Now Tigger has started in on me, too: "Slow down for the bumps!", "You're going too fast!" (How would he know?!?!), "Stupid driver...be nice."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That last one he learned from me. I'm not a road rage kind of gal, but I will often comment on how stupid other drivers are, because let's face it...there are stupid drivers out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so maybe I have done a few dumb things in my driving career, but as mentioned before, I've never been pulled over. I've also never been in a car accident when I was driving. Because of that, I'm the safest driver I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or at least that's what my control issues are telling me. The number of drivers I trust completely, I can count on one hand. My husband isn't even on that list. I'd rather drive because, we will both admit, that I am the better driver. I can't fall asleep when someone else is driving unless I'm in the back seat and can't see the road. This is because the first wreck I was in was because I was asleep in the passenger side and I woke up flying forward to the windshield because the driver fell asleep. I'm pretty sure these issues stem from me feeling like I have to be in complete control of the car to feel safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I'm the safest driver I know, I also feel like I have to tell everyone else how to be safe. I'm the worst with my husband and siblings. Sometimes, I literally have to bite my tounge to keep from saying things to him about his driving. In some ways I feel like I'm a Driver's Ed teacher every time I'm not driving. I have my foot on my imaginary brake on the passenger side and I'm constantly pointing out things that the driver might have missed...someone who MIGHT change lanes...someone who MIGHT turn without a blinker...the light that MIGHT change soon...etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm learning how to be nicer about things. My husband thinks I've come a long way since we were married 6 years ago. I think I have too. I also think that I'll come even further when Piglet and Tigger are learning how to drive. Then I might actually get a taste of my own medicine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-5192193573132309027?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/5192193573132309027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=5192193573132309027&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5192193573132309027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5192193573132309027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession-18-im-second-worst-back-seat.html' title='Confession #18 -- I&apos;m the Second Worst Back Seat Driver'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-2825171374406480531</id><published>2008-02-20T09:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T11:22:36.995-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tag'/><title type='text'>A Tag</title><content type='html'>So, &lt;a href="http://4bsinapod.blogspot.com/"&gt;Heather&lt;/a&gt; sent out a tag and I thought I'd do it because my brain isn't working as of late and I thought this might be an easy post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 Years ago...&lt;br /&gt;10 years ago I was in the middle of my 2nd year at BYU. I was just getting to know to of my best college friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 things on my list to do today....&lt;br /&gt;1. Go to the gym&lt;br /&gt;2. Vacuum&lt;br /&gt;3. Type a report of our last Primary Activity Day&lt;br /&gt;4. Not make dinner...I have a RS dinner tonight.&lt;br /&gt;5. Make my yearly doctor's appointment...YUCK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snacks I enjoy.....&lt;br /&gt;Anything with chocolate and peanut butter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I would do if I were suddenly a millionaire.....&lt;br /&gt;Pay off our student loans, finish paying for our van, buy a house, invest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 bad habits......&lt;br /&gt;1. Picking at my nails when I get nervous&lt;br /&gt;2. Reading instead of doing work&lt;br /&gt;3. Staying up late for no reason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 places I have lived.....&lt;br /&gt;1. Midland, TX&lt;br /&gt;2. Provo, UT&lt;br /&gt;3. Seattle, WA&lt;br /&gt;4. Orem, UT&lt;br /&gt;5. N/A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 jobs I have had......&lt;br /&gt;1. working for my dad's small business (cutting, routing, and staining wood blocks)&lt;br /&gt;2. Receptionist&lt;br /&gt;3. Telephone surveyor (one summer)&lt;br /&gt;4. Special Events staff at BYU (football stadium and basketball arena)&lt;br /&gt;5. Purchasing department for the DOI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 things people don't know about me.......&lt;br /&gt;1. I've never been pulled over.&lt;br /&gt;2. When I find a pen that I like, I hoard it and keep very close tabs on it.&lt;br /&gt;3. I ran a 5K one time and never again will I do it. Just not that fun, although I was proud of myself for doing it.&lt;br /&gt;4. I didn't loose a tooth until 1st grade and then my teacher didn't believe me because the permanent tooth was already growing in.&lt;br /&gt;5. I love Sharpies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you haven't been tagged lately and you want to do it, I'm all for it. It's passed on to you....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-2825171374406480531?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/2825171374406480531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=2825171374406480531&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/2825171374406480531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/2825171374406480531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/tag.html' title='A Tag'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-1475243341295600711</id><published>2008-02-19T19:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T21:09:21.514-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ten Points!</title><content type='html'>So my family plays a game called Ten Points. Basically, you throw a quote from a movie into your conversation and then say, "Ten Points!" The first person to come up with the movie gets the 10 points. We really never keep count of who has how many points, but it's always satisfying to know the movie before the others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I thought I'd play a version of that game here. Basically, I'm just going to put quotes from some of the movies that are watched in our house and see how many you know. Notice, I did not say that all the movies were my favorites...I said movies that are watched at our house. Don't forget that Piglet and Tigger watch movies, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to give you a little hint that might make your guessing a bit easier...we don't watch too many movies on the big screen. Why pay $20 to get both of us into a movie and then come home and pay the baby sitter, too? It's cheaper to rent them when they come out. First, you can watch it more than once. Second, more people can watch it for cheaper. Third, you can make your own popcorn the way you like it instead of spending way too much money on that movie stuff. But I digress. These movies are not the new ones, (probably) but the ones that are tried and true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;"They were strawberries. It's been so cold lately that they turned blue!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Fish are friends. Not food."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"I like blonds. Chubby ones."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"You. You're twins. Do you share everything?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Hey look. I'm Picasso." "Uh, I don't get it." "You uncultured swine!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"You want to tell me and I have no objection to hearing it."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"I don't need to see where I'm goin'. I just need to see where I've been."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Everyone knows the moon is made of cheese."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Nonsense. You're only saying that because nobody ever has."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Have you a reliable atlas? I wish to check the position of the Nile."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, you get 10 points for each one you get right. Let me know how you did and in a future post, I'll reveal the movies. Good luck!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-1475243341295600711?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/1475243341295600711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=1475243341295600711&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1475243341295600711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1475243341295600711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/ten-points.html' title='Ten Points!'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-1692274695624828876</id><published>2008-02-18T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:42:29.259-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #17 -- I Don't Like Shopping for Clothes</title><content type='html'>I used to...before I had kids. But ever since the pregnancies, my body has changed shape, and not in a good way. I think what happens when you have kids is that clothing never fits right anymore. They don't make pants that fit your hips and your waist. If they fit up top, the legs are so baggy it looks like you are wearing a tent. Someone needs to invent a clothing store that has cute clothing tailored to the "post pregnancy" body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas. I haven't purchased a brand new pair of jeans for almost 3 years and it was about time. I'm a used clothing shopper. Not only is it better for my wallet, but sometimes you can find really great things. But jeans are one of those things that you either get really lucky at the used clothing stores or you have to buy new. After looking for and not finding the perfect pair of jeans at the used clothing stores, I decided that I deserved a brand spankin' new pair after 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the reasons I don't like shopping for clothes (besides the fact that they never fit right) is because I have two little boys. I'm trying to teach them about modesty and therefore, it's inappropriate for them to go into the fitting rooms with me. That means that I have to go when Peter is home to watch the boys...usually on a weekend. Stores are BUSY on weekends and I don't like fighting the crowds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another reason I don't like shopping for clothes is that I'm between average and petite. Average pants are usually so long they are dragging on the floor by 4 inches or more. Petites are just too short and you can't do that. I can sometimes get by with a petite if I plan only wearing my beloved flip flops with it...and flip flops only. I suppose some would say the solution to that is to wear 4 inch heels all the time. But I DON'T THINK SO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on Saturday, I braved the crowds at the mall and went shopping for jeans. There is one little store that I have lots of luck in so I started there. I encountered the same problem. The average ones were too long and the petites were too short. Then the sales girl told me that their jeans shrink a lot shorter, but that they stretch out as you wear them so to get a snug pair. I thought that maybe I could get an average. So, I looked for the size smaller in average. That's always nice, right? But without divulging my size (because what normal girl would...) I soon found that they didn't have any in the color I wanted and the size I wanted. Bummer for me. I hate shopping for clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, while at the mall, I decided to take a jaunt down to JC Penney because I would never have a chance to shop by myself again...at least in the forseeable future. I don't usually have the best of luck there, but it was worth a try, right? I searched the shelves and racks for the right color and the right size and the right length. I found some to try on and lo and behold! A pair that was perfect. Now, to look at the price. Originally it was $40. Pretty average for a pair of jeans. But lucky for me it was President's Day Weekend and that means SALE! The sale price was $18.99. Even better. But I looked closely at the tag and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a pricetag with $3.97 written on it. This couldn't be real. Only one other pair of jeans on the entire rack had that same tag on it, so I thought for sure it was a mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took it to the counter and asked the gal at the register what the deal was with that. She looked it up for me and WOW! It really was only $3.97! SCORE! My shopping trip was a success after all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, after all that, I still don't like shopping for clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-1692274695624828876?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/1692274695624828876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=1692274695624828876&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1692274695624828876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1692274695624828876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession-17-i-dont-like-shopping-for.html' title='Confession #17 -- I Don&apos;t Like Shopping for Clothes'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-9218267492109321431</id><published>2008-02-15T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T16:55:36.464-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Award Goes To:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm excited because &lt;a href="http://mypricelesstreasures.blogspot.com/"&gt;mom2my6kids&lt;/a&gt; gave me my first award! I actually think it's quite an ironic award. I have NEVER considered myself a great writer. In fact, during my high school and college years, my lowest grades were always in English. I often feel like I write in circles and that I repeat myself. And I KNOW that I often write incomplete sentences.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But as soon as I figured out that I don't have to write like I'm in an English class all the time, I started getting compliments on my writing skills. It first started at work right out of college and before I was married. People at the office said they always looked forward to my emails. They asked me all the time if I had ever considered writing for a paper column or something. Well, I was flattered, but nope...that kind of think doesn't sound exciting to me. Still doesn't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now this great award! I'm much more comfortable with my writing style now...I still wouldn't want the pressure of producing something fun, upbeat, out of the ordinary, or politically charged every day, but I love writing stuff on the blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167370174229565570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R7Yvy6nm0II/AAAAAAAAAHU/8JUWt3lrVOw/s400/Powerful+words+roar.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"The rules for being A Roar For Powerful Words recipient are that I share 3 writing tips and pass the award on to 3 more bloggers worthy of recognition and esteem..." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;So, here are my 3 writing tips:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;1. Figure out the purpose of your writing. Is it to self medicate, ponder issues, vent a bit, share something profound that you've learned, or just to be funny?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;2. If your writing is for something informal (like blogs...), write like you talk...even if it's in circles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;3. Never take yourself too seriously. You may write something one day and feel completely opposite the next. That's okay. We all learn from each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And as far as passing this award along...I'm fairly new in the blogging world and I'm slowly building up my circle of friends. As for right now, I think most of my friends have received it lately, but I wanted to for sure pass it along to one. And that is Lizzy at &lt;a href="http://icecreamdiary.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ice Cream Diary&lt;/a&gt;. She is a brave woman to share some of the personal struggles that she has and I admire her ability to tell the world that she wants to change things in her life. Thanks for writing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And to the rest of you, keep writing! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-9218267492109321431?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/9218267492109321431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=9218267492109321431&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/9218267492109321431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/9218267492109321431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/and-award-goes-to.html' title='And the Award Goes To:'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R7Yvy6nm0II/AAAAAAAAAHU/8JUWt3lrVOw/s72-c/Powerful+words+roar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-4083571401304992941</id><published>2008-02-13T16:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T17:10:55.297-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LOVE/HATE'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Another LOVE/HATE Relationship</title><content type='html'>Well, I've thought about this entry for awhile.  I couldn't make it into a confession that was 100% true, so I had to do it this way.  But here is another one of those things that I can't decide if I love or hate it more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE reading books to my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE reading books to my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE reading the same books over and over and over to my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE that my kids want me to read books to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE doing the "voices" while reading books to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE that Peter does the "voices" while reading books to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE that I'm lacking on sleep so much that I fall asleep whenever I read books to the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE that books can take us anywhere in the world we want to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE that I always end up with elbows, knees, heads, arms, legs, etc. poking and prodding me the entire time we read books...All because they are arguing about who gets to sit where.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE that Piglet likes to get non-fiction books from the library...he knows so much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE that they want to read a lot of books when we are already late for bedtime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE that Tigger (he's two) chooses to sleep with books instead of toys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE that I don't have enough time to read what I want to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE children's books...Especially the ones with fantastic illustrations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE picking up ALL the books that the kids have pulled off their bookshelf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE when it's time to go to the library and check out new books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE it when people fold down corners of pages to mark their places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE it when you find a new author that you like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE it when an otherwise good book ends up with a really lame ending.  I just finished one of those...&lt;em&gt;Talk, Talk&lt;/em&gt; by T.C. Boyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE the smell of a brand new book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE it when people spill food in a book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE books!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as a little note, I got my first award from &lt;a href="http://mypricelesstreasures.blogspot.com/"&gt;mom2my6kids&lt;/a&gt; and I'm so excited!!  Keep a look out for the pass along!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-4083571401304992941?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/4083571401304992941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=4083571401304992941&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4083571401304992941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4083571401304992941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/another-lovehate-relationship.html' title='Another LOVE/HATE Relationship'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-2692595790251069673</id><published>2008-02-12T15:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T16:44:18.757-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dinner'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cooking'/><title type='text'>Confession #16  I Don't Know What's For Dinner!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So, um, I haven't done a good grocery shopping run for about a month and a half now. And it's not that I don't want to, either. I actually find it enjoyable. I like looking for good deals and I like looking around new stores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R7I7lKnmz7I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/y1BCB6SRqG0/s1600-h/No+Food.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166257232239054770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R7I7lKnmz7I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/y1BCB6SRqG0/s320/No+Food.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, my life has been so busy that I literally have been running out of time to go. I have something scheduled every morning (which is, IMO the best time to go grocery shopping...not as many crowds, better produce selection, and all the good deals aren't gone). Even Saturday mornings are filled with activities. When I walk into the kitchen I feel like I need to see a sign that says NO FOOD HERE!! I keep us stocked on milk, eggs, cheese, fresh produce, etc, but like I said, it's been a month and a half now since I've done a good grocery run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like every day I am scraping the barrel, so to speak, when it comes to getting dinner ready. I have to be really creative and use my food storage well. It's starting to get old. At least I have food storage.  So, for my sake (so I can have it in writing) and for yours if you are wondering what to make, I am compiling a list of things I can make for dinner that I can make in a pinch. In making this list, I am assuming that there are some basics stored away in the freezer or pantry ...chicken, ground beef, pasta, etc. I do have some basics now, but at the rate I'm going that won't last long. I'VE GOT TO GO GROCERY SHOPPING!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Baked Potatoes &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R7I8aKnmz9I/AAAAAAAAAFg/7Pp6REmOlFs/s1600-h/pancakes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166258142772121554" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R7I8aKnmz9I/AAAAAAAAAFg/7Pp6REmOlFs/s200/pancakes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Pasta with a bit of butter and parmesean cheese (yummy with freshly ground pepper!)&lt;br /&gt;-Taco Soup (canned beans, corn, taco seasoning, onion, ground beef...that's about it!)&lt;br /&gt;-Omlettes (Peter is a great omlette maker!)&lt;br /&gt;-Tuna Casserole (This is always one of the options LOWEST on my list.)&lt;br /&gt;-Breakfast at Dinner (pancakes, waffles, cereal, etc.)&lt;br /&gt;-Chicken Enchiladas (I have in food storage enchilada sauce and I actually have chicken and tortillas today.....HHmmm....maybe I'll do that today.&lt;br /&gt;-Spaghetti&lt;br /&gt;-Hearty sandwiches...with whatever meat and veggies you have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, there you have it. It may not be a long list, but it helped me for at least tonight. What are some of your standby favorites?!?! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-2692595790251069673?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/2692595790251069673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=2692595790251069673&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/2692595790251069673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/2692595790251069673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession-16-i-dont-know-whats-for.html' title='Confession #16  I Don&apos;t Know What&apos;s For Dinner!'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R7I7lKnmz7I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/y1BCB6SRqG0/s72-c/No+Food.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-2620016518920300172</id><published>2008-02-09T11:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:42:58.571-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #15  I Still Sleep With My Baby Blanket</title><content type='html'>You know how there are just some things that bring comfort to you no matter what? Hot chocolate and a good book. A nice warm bubble bath. A visit to mom's house. Well, for me it's my Blankie. It's been with me through everything. I was so little when I got it that I don't even remember getting it. It's always been there...kind of like this constant companion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter teases me about sleeping with it. He's mostly just jealous because I cuddle it more than I cuddle him. What can I say? When I sleep on my side, I need something to hold in my arms to keep my chest cavity open. It's the perfect size to fit right in between my arms and it's soft. Peter is a little big for that...plus, he snores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R64LCqnmz5I/AAAAAAAAAFA/1P-MblCzQ6s/s1600-h/IMG_0937.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165077963068592018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R64LCqnmz5I/AAAAAAAAAFA/1P-MblCzQ6s/s320/IMG_0937.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My Blankie is so threadbare that I'm afraid every time I wash it. I'm afraid it will end up in shreds. The ties that my Grandma used to tie the layers together were all pulled out years ago when I was a fidgiting kid. Because of that, the little batting that is left has been migrating to one corner of the blanket preventing it from ever lying flat again. The fabric is so thin that you can see through it easily. The binding on the edge is literally hanging on by threads. Occasionally I have to actually cut parts of it off because they end up in loops that I catch with my fingers. But I could never give it up. It may be thin and ragged, but it still keeps me warm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister is the same way with her Blankie. One time when she flew somewhere, she put the blanket in the suitcase (much like I did). We have never made that mistake again. They lost her suitcase and she had to sleep without it for a few days. There was a palpable fear that she would never see her Blankie again. Now, it gets tucked nicely in a large carry on bag so as to never loose it again. It's thin. I can do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter sometimes thinks it's funny to take it and hide it from me. He can only try this when I'm in an extremely jovial mood because otherwise, it's just not funny. One time he hid it in the morning and as I cleaned that day I found it. I noticed it was missing when I made the bed and I sniffed it out. He has never tried that one again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R64Lg6nmz6I/AAAAAAAAAFI/1W3SFmjfiXY/s1600-h/IMG_0938.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165078482759634850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R64Lg6nmz6I/AAAAAAAAAFI/1W3SFmjfiXY/s320/IMG_0938.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I get heckled by our family for this, but it doesn't matter. I tell them that I want to hand it down to my little girl...if I ever have one. They always laugh and ask how much of it will actually be left for a daughter. But, I don't care. I always sleep better with Blankie folded in my arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-2620016518920300172?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/2620016518920300172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=2620016518920300172&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/2620016518920300172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/2620016518920300172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession-15-i-still-sleep-with-my.html' title='Confession #15  I Still Sleep With My Baby Blanket'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R64LCqnmz5I/AAAAAAAAAFA/1P-MblCzQ6s/s72-c/IMG_0937.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-9204588547140861237</id><published>2008-02-07T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T13:38:00.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day Post</title><content type='html'>I'm going for the Valentine's Day &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://laughadaisy.blogspot.com/2008/02/re-design-on-me.html"&gt;Blog Re-Design Giveway&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; that Magirk at &lt;a href="http://laughadaisy.blogspot.com/"&gt;Laughadaisy&lt;/a&gt; is giving away. I have been straining my brain trying to thing of the absolute best Valentine's Day that I've ever had. I was thinking of telling about the time when my dear Peter surprised me with a trip for just the two of us. Or the time when I found out that I had a secret admirer. Or the time in 6th grade when I was picked by the school to be the Valentine Princess for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't. None of them ever happend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truthfully, Valentine's Day has never been really big for me. Peter is the only boyfriend I ever had and even then, we were married and poor by the time Valentine's Day came around. Even my parents never made it a big deal. Their anniversary was only a few days before Heart Day and so they just sort of smooshed the two things together at our house. I never minded much. I'm afraid I was one of those people who refered to it as "Singles Awareness Day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one of the things that I remember happening every year is mom making heart shaped cookies that she painstakingly decorated with pink and white frosting and red hots. I never cared much for the red hots, but she made fantastic sugar cookies. When I was younger she would bring the cookies into my class at school and I loved it. As I got older, she stopped bringing them to school, ("Are you kidding, mom?!?! Bring them to my school?!?! How embarrassing!), but she always had them out on the counter so we could eat them when we came home from school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Mom and Dad's anniversary. Because it's so close to Valentine's Day, dad would usually buy mom some really nice flowers that would last at least a week and count them for both occasions. (I told you that it was never that big of a deal.) But now, the anniversary dates are special. My dad died only 5 days before their 30th anniversary after a quick bout with cancer. Now, today (the 7th) and on Valentine's Day, it's all about my mom. I want to make sure that the day for her is special, just like it always was. This is now what Valentine's Day reminds me of: That the love we have for each other never stops just because people pass on to the next world. Every day is a blessing with those we love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Anniversary Mom (and Dad!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-9204588547140861237?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/9204588547140861237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=9204588547140861237&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/9204588547140861237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/9204588547140861237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/valentines-day-post.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day Post'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-4886933125301360991</id><published>2008-02-06T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:43:23.851-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacuum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning'/><title type='text'>Confession #14  I Haven't Vacuumed for a Long Time</title><content type='html'>I think I have a really bad relationship with vacuums. They all seem to hate me. Because my last one pretty much died on me, I got a new one less than a year ago. I did some research and ended up getting one from Costco...right down the middle of the line...not to expensive, and not the cheapest (despite the fact that Peter would have gotten the cheapest no matter what...You cannot always sacrifice quality for cost).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R6n7LE98DsI/AAAAAAAAAEw/8GMkyiOpOSw/s1600-h/vacuum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163934615487647426" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R6n7LE98DsI/AAAAAAAAAEw/8GMkyiOpOSw/s320/vacuum.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We brought it home, put it together, and it worked fantastically. We loved it! For about a month. Then we started noticing that it just wasn't getting all the stuff off the carpet. The hose was filled with carpet fuzz. So much that we had to literally push a broom handle through it to get it all out. Then it worked great for another little while. Then on Halloween night, Peter was vacuuming while waiting for Trick or Treaters and you would not believe the burning rubber smell that came from that thing. It was so bad that you could feel it in your eyes. I took it in to a vacuum repair shop because surely it was worth fixing it rather than buying a new one! Right??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after replacing a part that had melted, it worked fantastically again! But a couple of weeks ago when I vacuumed, I noticed another problem. It sucked things off of the carpet, but the smell that lingered was terrible. Maybe not as bad as the burning rubber smell, but it smelled just like all the dirt had been picked up, stirred into the air, and left there to settle back down on the floor again. I could hardly breathe because it literally smelled like a dust storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now what do I do? I don't have the money to get a new one and at the rate we are going, I don't have money to get it fixed again. I have taken this thing apart and to my untrained eye, there is nothing I can do. So I do nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that only lasts a little while. Last night I did some yoga after the kids went to bed and it was terrible being that close to the floor where I could actually see the dirt and grunge that has accumulated. And I shudder to think that my kids are playing on the carpet the way it is. My only consolation is that at least they are old enough not to put things in their mouths, but still, I hate the idea that they are playing in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-4886933125301360991?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/4886933125301360991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=4886933125301360991&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4886933125301360991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4886933125301360991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession-14-i-havent-vacuumed-for.html' title='Confession #14  I Haven&apos;t Vacuumed for a Long Time'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R6n7LE98DsI/AAAAAAAAAEw/8GMkyiOpOSw/s72-c/vacuum.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-8559407853521951540</id><published>2008-02-05T17:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T17:39:03.321-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recipe Exchange'/><title type='text'>Recipe Exchange</title><content type='html'>So, at the moment, it's almost time for dinner...I've been thinking about what to write as a confession all day and have come up with nothing.  So, in lieu of that, tonight you get a recipe that I made last night for the first time.  I loved it!  It's a Greek dessert that's not too sweet, but still good.  Sorry there are no pics...I forgot until after they were gone, which was quick!  And if you don't have the exact dried fruits it calls for, substitute others...apples, cherries, craisins, raisins, pears, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pyllo Purses with Dried Fruit Compote&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/4 pound dried figs (about 1/2 cup), quartered&lt;br /&gt;1/4 pound dried apricots (about 1 1/2 cups) sliced&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup packed golden raisins&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup orange juice&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup water&lt;br /&gt;1/3 cup honey&lt;br /&gt;1 cinnamon stick&lt;br /&gt;1 teaspoon vanilla extract&lt;br /&gt;2 tablespoons sliced almonds&lt;br /&gt;4 (12x17 inch) sheets phyllo dough, thawed according to package directions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Preheat oven to 350.  Spray a baking sheet with nonstick spray.  Set aside.&lt;br /&gt;2.  To make compote, combine figs, apricots, raisins, orange juice, water, honey, cinnamon stick, and vanilla in a medium saucepan.  Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the fruit plumps and the liquid becomes syrupy, 12-15 minutes.  Remove the compote from the heat; discard the cinnaomon stick.  Cool 10 minutes, then stir in the almonds.&lt;br /&gt;3.  Place one sheet of phyllo with the long side facing you on a work surface.  Lightly spray with nonstick spray; top with a second phyllo sheet and lightly spray with nonstick spray.  Repeat with the remaining phyllo sheets to form a stack.  With a sharp knife or pizza cutter, cut the phyllo into 6 equal squares.  Place 1/4 cup of the compote in the center of each square.  Working one square at a time, gather the four corners of the square together to enclose the compote.  Twist the gathered phyllo lightly to seal the packet and form a purse.  Transfer purse to the baking sheet; repeat with the reaming phyllo, nonstick spray and compote to make 6 purses.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Spray the purses lightly with nonstick spray.  Bake  until crisp and golden, 12-15 minutes.  Serve warm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-8559407853521951540?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/8559407853521951540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=8559407853521951540&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8559407853521951540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8559407853521951540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/recipe-exchange.html' title='Recipe Exchange'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-6924099024534843769</id><published>2008-02-04T16:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:43:49.391-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='obsessive/compulsive behaviors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laundry'/><title type='text'>Confession #13 -- I Don't Mind Doing Laundry</title><content type='html'>WOW! Somehow the weekend got ahead of me! I didn't even check my email for over 2 days! That's a record for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Mondays at our house are designated "Laundry Day" because that's all I do on Mondays. I don't like the idea of doing laundry every day for two reasons. 1. It's hard to do full loads that way and therefore it wastes water. And 2. I don't mind doing laundry, but I certainly don't love it. I only do it one day a week...unless there is some sort of emergency with any kind of bodily fluid. And with children, those happen more often than I would like. Besides, doing it all at once gives me the opportunity to sit down and fold clothes while watching a movie without feeling guilty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people might call me obsessive compulsive about things I do. I have to do things in even numbers (including the number of kids I have). I have to align everything. I tuck the sheets on the bed just so on the corners EVERY DAY. I fold clothing so that it all ends up the same size. I match socks up...even all the plain white ones all three of the boys at my house wear. A new white sock can not be matched up with the old white sock...and I can tell the difference. Clothes are arranged in drawers so as to best use the space available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is mostly why I don't mind doing laundry. Nobody else could do my laundry as perfect as I could. I'm sure that someday I'll have to give up all my quirks about laundry, but not today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if any of you want to cut your laundry time down, just watch and learn from this video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/q9QbmgTaA5g&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/q9QbmgTaA5g&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Another reason I do my laundry all in one day: I actually stand a chance at having ALL the laundry clean at once...until it's time to get ready for bed and the dirty clothes go back in the laundry baskets, that is.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-6924099024534843769?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/6924099024534843769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=6924099024534843769&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6924099024534843769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6924099024534843769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession-13-i-dont-mind-doing-laundry.html' title='Confession #13 -- I Don&apos;t Mind Doing Laundry'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-5788965636291867114</id><published>2008-02-01T09:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:44:13.036-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #12 -- I'm Really Terrible at Washing my Face</title><content type='html'>I have always been a lucky soul with skin that is usually fantastic. Occasionally I get little blemishes, but rarely even a zit dares show itself on my face. I hardly ever wear makeup...mostly just on Sundays and other out of the ordinary activities. Because of that, I was always lazy about washing my face. I wash it in the shower every morning, but not with anything special. I wash it only on the nights that I wear makeup and even only that if I remember to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R6NdbU98DrI/AAAAAAAAADo/Rc12vbHkcw8/s1600-h/Mary+Kay+Skin+Care.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162072321963069106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R6NdbU98DrI/AAAAAAAAADo/Rc12vbHkcw8/s320/Mary+Kay+Skin+Care.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this has to change. I'll be 30 this year and I'm noticing more and more that my face is not it's youthful self anymore. No wrinkles yet, but it certainly doesn't have even coloring. I have a neighbor who sells Mary Kay. And really, even though I don't wear makeup much, I have absolutely loved anything I have gotten from Mary Kay. I went to my neighbor's house last night and I finally got the basic skin care package. It's been on my mind for awhile, but I never got around to it. But this time I got it. I have loved it. All morning I have been feeling my face and looking at myself in the mirror. I feel a bit silly doing it, but it is such a difference from yesterday that I can't help myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now that I've shelled out the money for this fantastic stuff, I plan on using it. And then maybe, just maybe, I might be able to take this confession back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-5788965636291867114?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/5788965636291867114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=5788965636291867114&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5788965636291867114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/5788965636291867114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/02/confession-12-im-really-terrible-at.html' title='Confession #12 -- I&apos;m Really Terrible at Washing my Face'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R6NdbU98DrI/AAAAAAAAADo/Rc12vbHkcw8/s72-c/Mary+Kay+Skin+Care.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-4970398800411570849</id><published>2008-01-31T09:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:44:38.851-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 year olds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='questions'/><title type='text'>Confession #11 -- I Don't Know Everything</title><content type='html'>Even though Piglet thinks I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Piglet is at that fantastic age of 4 where children learn not only better coordination, and social skills, but masses of knowledge as well. I actually really like to see him learn. He is doing really well with recognizing the letters and knowing what sounds they make. He is not so keen on writing, but that will come in time. I love it when he picks up a new skill or somehow applies the new knowledge that has learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, he is also at this lovely age of 4 where they tend to ask a lot of questions. I usually try to answer them to the best of my ability because I believe that it helps him learn and it conveys the idea that asking questions about life is a good thing. I also try to answer them so he knows that I'm paying attention to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the hard part because sometimes, the questions are so many and they come so fast, that I really do start to tune him out. And he often asks questions when I'm trying to concentrate on something else...driving during rush hour, cooking dinner, typing on the computer. And sometimes I really do get irritated when he asks so many questions. I try my hardest to not let him know that I'm irritated, but that doesn't always work. And my rule of thumb is that I never ask him to stop asking questions, no matter how much I don't like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid I don't always follow my rule of thumb. Peter asked if I was going to share this next little quip with you and my first response was. "No!" mostly because it was really irritating at the time and I was really angry about it. But in looking back at it, I suppose there is sort of a funny side to it. Here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were madly trying to get ready for stake conference. Because we have afternoon church, it was much earlier than we normally get ready for church. In all the hustle and bustle of gathering snacks, toys, and other things to occupy their time, Piglet was asking questions incessantly. We finally got in the car and were on the way to the church and I had HAD it with the questions. I said, much more grumpily than I should have, "Piglet, stop asking questions! It's irritating!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His response: "What does irritating mean?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/85683/limerk/cb0eb90a9fa3112893dd336a090c1a90.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-4970398800411570849?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/4970398800411570849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=4970398800411570849&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4970398800411570849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/4970398800411570849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-11-i-dont-know-everything.html' title='Confession #11 -- I Don&apos;t Know Everything'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-853700009197433386</id><published>2008-01-30T09:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:45:04.397-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #10 -- It's almost 10am and I'm still in my Pajamas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R59onk98DkI/AAAAAAAAACw/DDNvpLXm2aQ/s1600-h/Not+a+Morning+Person.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160958727137529410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R59onk98DkI/AAAAAAAAACw/DDNvpLXm2aQ/s320/Not+a+Morning+Person.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I LOVE PAJAMAS! And being in them is the greatest thing. But I have to admit that I don't usually stay in them until 10am. I usually have already left the house with the kids for whatever errands need to be done or for a playdate with some friends. As much as I love pajamas, I still feel guilty every time I wear them past 8am. Somehow I think that I should be more on top of it all. And I know that I would get more done if I didn't stay in them and that's what makes me change out of them by 8am. I guess I just have this thought that morning people are somehow better than night people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a night person al the way. I could stay up reading a book until all hours of the morning. I could start a movie at 11 and stay up watching it. I could start to bake something at 11 and stay up until it's done. But ask me to get up early?!?! That's almost impossilbe. And once I'm asleep, you better not bug me until I am good and ready to get up. Unfortunately, my kids often wake up before I'm ready to get up and end up being the recipient of a few grouchy comments. Gotta work on that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose that it doesn't really matter whether you are a night person or a morning person...as long as you are a person working on making yourself better. Even if, for me, it means trying my hardest to be at least a tolerable morning person!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R59oo098DlI/AAAAAAAAAC4/pCePK2_UURQ/s1600-h/I+blame+you.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-853700009197433386?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/853700009197433386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=853700009197433386&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/853700009197433386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/853700009197433386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-10-its-almost-10am-and-im.html' title='Confession #10 -- It&apos;s almost 10am and I&apos;m still in my Pajamas'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R59onk98DkI/AAAAAAAAACw/DDNvpLXm2aQ/s72-c/Not+a+Morning+Person.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-7113916746461914804</id><published>2008-01-29T10:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T10:25:40.021-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='President Hinckley'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BYU'/><title type='text'>My Encounter with President Hinckley</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Because of the recent passing of President Hinckley, I have been reflecting on some of the things he's meant to me. Although he's not the first Prophet I remember, he is the one that guided me through my most formative years. The years that I was trying to figure out just who I am. I have always appreciated his sense of humor because he was able to be funny without being crass or inappropriate, which seems to be a hard thing to do these days. The following experience with him illustrates that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;At BYU I worked in the Marriott Center where many of the CES firesides took place. I had the chance to meet several General Authorities through this job. I often worked in the elevator, pushing buttons and making sure people got to all the right places. On a day that President Hinckley came to the Marriott Center, I had less than a minute with him in the elevator, but the following conversation ensued:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;President Hinckley, shaking my hand, "What's your name?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I told him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;President Hinckley, "Are you married or single?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me, "I'm single."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;President Hinckley, "What's your major?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me, "Family Science."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;President Hinckley, "Maybe you should be in engineering where all the young men are!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't take that advice to be prophetic...I did finally find my Peter Priesthood after I graduated, but I learned a few things about him from this encounter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. President Hinckley was truly interested in me as a person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. He cared deeply about young people pursuing and education, AND wanting to be married.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. His jokes and sense of humor didn't have to be offensive.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How I love that man and I'm sad to see him go. As a family, we have been praying much for his health and that he would be able to do all that he is asked to do. I think Heavenly Father answered our prayers in a way that's better than we imagined.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160965826718469794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R59vE098DqI/AAAAAAAAADg/VacIUGENpLg/s400/President+Hinckley.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Goodbye, President Hinckley!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-7113916746461914804?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/7113916746461914804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=7113916746461914804&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/7113916746461914804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/7113916746461914804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-encounter-with-president-hinckley.html' title='My Encounter with President Hinckley'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R59vE098DqI/AAAAAAAAADg/VacIUGENpLg/s72-c/President+Hinckley.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-500644595346268208</id><published>2008-01-27T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:45:35.834-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LOVE/HATE'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Confession #9 -- I Have a LOVE/HATE Relationship with Food</title><content type='html'>I LOVE cooking food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE cleaning up after making food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE trying new foods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE how some new foods (new spices in particular) give me horrible heart burn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE crunchy cold cereal...especially Honey Bunches of Oats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160359806833004066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R51H5098DiI/AAAAAAAAACg/Xs7vXgE8L04/s320/HBOO.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE that no matter how long I wait to put milk on my cold cereal, it always gets soggy because I'm getting stuff for the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE anything with milk chocolate and peanut butter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE how the calories of milk chocolate and peanut butter add up fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE ice cream with loads of chunks in them. Especially Ben and Jerry's Peanut Butter Cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160359811127971378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R51H6E98DjI/AAAAAAAAACo/-mnFXZjAzUw/s320/Ben+and+Jerry%27s+Peanut+Butter+Cup.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE ice cream made out of berries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE &lt;a href="http://icecreamdiary.blogspot.com/2007/11/spinach.html"&gt;fresh spinach&lt;/a&gt;. I eat a lot of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE green peas. My poor children are going to grow up not eating them at our house. I can't stand even the smell of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE reading recipes. I check out cookbooks from the library often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HATE the smell of burned popcorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE the smell of freshly baked bread. That's one of the reasons I make all of ours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's about all I can think of to illustrate my LOVE/HATE relationship with food. I'm sure as I go along with this blog, I'll think of a few other things I have a LOVE/HATE relationship with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-500644595346268208?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/500644595346268208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=500644595346268208&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/500644595346268208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/500644595346268208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-9-i-have-lovehate.html' title='Confession #9 -- I Have a LOVE/HATE Relationship with Food'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R51H5098DiI/AAAAAAAAACg/Xs7vXgE8L04/s72-c/HBOO.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-8864999077247073341</id><published>2008-01-25T17:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T17:24:40.034-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Coolest Paper Toy Ever</title><content type='html'>If you need something to do with your kids, try this link out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.metacafe.com/w/962261" target="_blank" rel="nofollow"&gt;http://www.metacafe.com/w/962261&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't figure out how to put the video in my blog...maybe one of my new blog friends can help me?!?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-8864999077247073341?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/8864999077247073341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=8864999077247073341&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8864999077247073341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8864999077247073341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/coolest-paper-toy-ever.html' title='The Coolest Paper Toy Ever'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-6682089734043838718</id><published>2008-01-25T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:45:59.409-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #8 -- I Wasn't Always Like This</title><content type='html'>I love reading &lt;a href="http://laughadaisy.blogspot.com/"&gt;Laughadaisy&lt;/a&gt;'s Retro Pages because I am a product of the 80s and 90s, too. Reading her last post, it reminded me of my college days, too. When I was a much more wild person. Peter often tells me that if he had known me during my college days, he would have never been interested. Truth be told, at that point, I would have never been interested in him, either. Good thing we met after I was done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to my college memory. I had two roommates that I did everything with. I still keep in touch with them, too, because they are cool like that. One of them was just like me (at the time). We giggled a lot, and we were always on the look out for the really cute guys. You know the kind that were way out of our reach. Whereever we were, we were being goofy. The other roommate was tall, black, and beautiful. She was the one that toned us down. She was always more serious and I think she wondered about our sanity once in awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lived in a complex that had a pool and one summer there was a really, really, really good looking guy that was hired to keep the pool up. He knew he looked good and he often strutted around without a shirt on. We liked to watch him out the window. One day the three of us were watching out the window and the two of us sillies got the idea to whistle at him. Well, we did, and then we ducked really fast. Our roommate was left standing at the window, mortified that the pool guy thought she had whistled at him because she wouldn't have in a million years. We had a good laugh, but I'm always glad that she forgave us for that one!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-6682089734043838718?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/6682089734043838718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=6682089734043838718&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6682089734043838718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6682089734043838718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-8-i-wasnt-always-like-this.html' title='Confession #8 -- I Wasn&apos;t Always Like This'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-8127242749798579065</id><published>2008-01-23T19:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:46:21.143-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><title type='text'>Confession #7 -- I Don't Clean My Bathrooms as Much as I Should</title><content type='html'>Of all the cleaning jobs throughout the house, the bathroom is my most dreaded one. I get dry heaves just trying to clean the toilet. Usually dear Peter ends up cleaning the toilets and I do the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But because this is about cleaning, I thought I'd tell you about some of my favorite cleaners and tricks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. My all time favorite is any brand of disinfectant wipes. Right now I use the Clorox ones, but that's because they were on sale. Usually it's the Costco ones. I have a container of those under every sink and I use them constantly. I especially like them in the bathrooms when I'm wiping down the bathroom sink after my kids have done a whirlwind through there. I also like them in the kitchen to clean up after doing things with raw meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5gs7098DgI/AAAAAAAAACQ/8vf6TVE80Ck/s1600-h/Bar+Keepers+Friend.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158922779495239170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5gs7098DgI/AAAAAAAAACQ/8vf6TVE80Ck/s320/Bar+Keepers+Friend.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My next one is a great product called Bar Keeper's Friend. I have copper bottomed pots and they work great for getting rid of the discoloration that happens when you cook. They also are great for getting the burned crusty things out of the bottom of your saucepans. And it even gets out things that you think have permanately stained your counter. But be careful with that because it can take the finish off. Test it in a corner or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Number three is a laundry cleaning trick to get out the grease stains on clothing. It's just plain dishsoap. I put a bit of it on the grease stain, give it a good scrub, let it sit for about 3 minutes and then throw it in with the rest of the laundry. I also usually hang dry the things that are treated just in case. But never fear, I have used it on grease stains that have been dried in and it works for those, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. This one is also a laundry trick that my RS Pres told me. It gets rid of ink from pens on clothing. Just spray a bit of hairspray on them, give them a little scrub, let it sit for about 3 mintues and then toss it in with the rest of the laundry. As with any stain, these come out better the sooner they are treated, but I've had it work with stains that were set in, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. And my all time coolest one is called Mostenbocker's Lift Off. There are different numbers (1-5) that each target something different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5gs8E98DhI/AAAAAAAAACY/_DmVTo0NL8M/s1600-h/Lift+Off+1+thru+5.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158922783790206482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5gs8E98DhI/AAAAAAAAACY/_DmVTo0NL8M/s320/Lift+Off+1+thru+5.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Removes food, beverage and protein stains.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Removes grease, gum, tape, and adhesives&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Removes permanent marker, pen, and ink&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Removes spray paint and grafitti&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Removes latex paint.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've used #2 and #5 and I love them! One day I wasy painting my bedroom wall a dark blue color and I got latex paint on the carpet. And it wasn't just a little. It was a stain about a foot long. Of course I panicked! We're renting!!! I found this stain remover at Home Depot and it worked magically! There is still a little bit of blue, but if you aren't looking for it and you don't know where to look, you wouldn't find it. And it got rid of the paint so well that even the towels I used to clean it up didn't have blue left on them either! And the best part is that it advertises that it works on dried latex paint, too! I've never tried it, but I just might have to try it on a baseboard or two that the previous people got paint on!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, what's your favorite cleaners? Has anyone tried the Scrubbing Bubbles shower cleaner? The one that is supposed to spray all of your shower every day? I've just gotta know if that one works, but I'm too cheap to buy it and try it myself!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-8127242749798579065?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/8127242749798579065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=8127242749798579065&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8127242749798579065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8127242749798579065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-7-i-dont-clean-my-bathrooms.html' title='Confession #7 -- I Don&apos;t Clean My Bathrooms as Much as I Should'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5gs7098DgI/AAAAAAAAACQ/8vf6TVE80Ck/s72-c/Bar+Keepers+Friend.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-6598566709700740620</id><published>2008-01-22T12:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T12:30:36.931-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Deserve a Place to Rant</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So, what does being a mother mean?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It means being responsible for another (or many other) human beings who are totally dependent on you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It means waking up at all hours of the night to help kids with any/all of the folowing: vomit, bad dreams, dirty diapers, trips to the bathrooms, scary noises, feedings, etc.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It means teaching them about the gospel through example and planned teaching situations.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It means answering their questions to the best of your ability.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It means feeding them using the &lt;a href="http://www.kidshealth.org/kid/stay_healthy/food/pyramid.html"&gt;basic food pyramid&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It means being the referee for squabbles.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It means teaching them to work hard for what they get.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It means having fun with the kids.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, now, what does it NOT mean to be a mother?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It does not mean that you let your children dictate what you do all the time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It does not mean that being a mother is your only identity.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It does not mean that you have to plan a "meaningful outing" every day for your kids.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It does not mean that you buy a new toy every time you want them to do something.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It does not mean that the kids have all of the "rights" just because they are a member of the family.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It does not mean that your education has to be sacraficed to the kids.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;It does not mean that your freedom has been taken away.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So why do I say all this? I have a friend who, sometimes, I just want to shake and tell her some of these things. She lets the kids be the be all end all of everything. She always says things like, "If the kids want to...". And if you ask her about who she is, the first and only answer she gives is, "a mother". I do agree that being a mother is one of the most important things we will do on the Earth, but it is not the ONLY important thing we will do. I, too, think it is a huge part of my identity, but not all. Besides being a mother, I am also a musician (I play piano and violin), a cook (I LOVE cooking!), an organizer (Everything has it's place and every place has it's thing.), and an athlete (at least on some level).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Back to my friend. Of course I would never tell her that she is parenting all wrong. It's none of my business. She is really just doing the best that she knows how. It just blows me away how many toys they have, though. Everytime they are in a store, the kids get something new. And she wonders why they don't care about any of them. They don't have to. They'll just get a new one. And she wonders why they throw screaming tantrums when you say no about something. It's because kids are smart. They know that if they just keep screaming, you'll break down and give it to them anyway. Who's in charge, anyway? You or the kids? I think she needs advice from the &lt;a href="http://www.supernanny.co.uk/"&gt;SuperNanny&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158400431639733746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5ZR3LkbpfI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Ko-lZ5hQqd4/s400/SuperNanny.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I certainly don't claim to be a perfect parent of have the perfect kids.  I, too, sometimes give in just because I don't want to hear the whining anymore.  I probably need just as much help from the SuperNanny as anyone else does.  But thanks for letting me rant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-6598566709700740620?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/6598566709700740620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=6598566709700740620&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6598566709700740620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6598566709700740620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-deserve-place-to-rant.html' title='I Deserve a Place to Rant'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5ZR3LkbpfI/AAAAAAAAAB4/Ko-lZ5hQqd4/s72-c/SuperNanny.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-1341631369820215807</id><published>2008-01-22T11:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:46:49.269-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='talking'/><title type='text'>Confession #6 -- Peter and I go to bed Way TOO Late</title><content type='html'>And gals...get your mind out of the gutter. That's not why...at least not every night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you see, I like to talk to Peter. And Peter likes to talk to me. And because of our schedules, most of the talking gets done at night. After the kids have gone to bed. We are constantly making it our goal to go to bed earlier because it's killing us! (Probably literally, too.) But it seems to just get later and later every night. It gets to where, during the day, if there is a quiet moment I begin to look like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158392932626834914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5ZLCrkbpeI/AAAAAAAAABw/dKcUZH6ZJPE/s320/Yawning.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not so attractive if you ask me. And I supposed I shouldn't complain too much. Our relationship keeps getting better and better. We are beginning to understand each other better. And at least he likes to talk with me, which is more than I can say for one couple I know. In that relationship, he is on the computer constantly and she is really critical of him. But enough about them. They are still good people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear lots of older women say that we should enjoy the time we have with our kids while they are young because it doesn't last long. I wonder how I am supposed to do that when all I want to do is sleep through it?!?! I suppose all we can do is keep trying...and trying...and trying to go to bed earlier!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-1341631369820215807?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/1341631369820215807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=1341631369820215807&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1341631369820215807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1341631369820215807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-6-peter-and-i-go-to-bed-way.html' title='Confession #6 -- Peter and I go to bed Way TOO Late'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5ZLCrkbpeI/AAAAAAAAABw/dKcUZH6ZJPE/s72-c/Yawning.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-728726821127509590</id><published>2008-01-21T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:47:15.615-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grocery store'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work out'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Paris Hilton'/><title type='text'>Confession #5 -- I Wore my Workout Clothes to the Grocery Store</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5UVDrkbpbI/AAAAAAAAABc/xaDJi0S0fVk/s1600-h/Paris+Hilton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158052101202093490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5UVDrkbpbI/AAAAAAAAABc/xaDJi0S0fVk/s320/Paris+Hilton.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would like to say that I'm "put together" every time I step out the door, but then I would be lying. And truthfully, "put together" for me is certainly not Paris Hilton's idea of put together, either. I'm happy if I have the chance to blow dry my hair straight or even put on a little mascara. Forget having a good haircut. I keep going to the cheap place and I regret it every time...but it's cheap and I'm poor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But until I had kids, I was always a bit judgemental about people wearing work out clothes in places other than the gym. I wondered why they didn't have the self respect enough to put on some nicer clothes. But then the kids came along and now I'm pretty lucky to even put on the work out clothes. And sometimes I have to get some food from the grocery store and as luck would have it, I don't have time to change. Luckily, it's cold and I can use my coat to cover most of it up!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-728726821127509590?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/728726821127509590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=728726821127509590&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/728726821127509590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/728726821127509590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-5-i-wore-my-workout-clothes.html' title='Confession #5 -- I Wore my Workout Clothes to the Grocery Store'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5UVDrkbpbI/AAAAAAAAABc/xaDJi0S0fVk/s72-c/Paris+Hilton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-457229504497407197</id><published>2008-01-20T21:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:47:39.953-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family Home Evening'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Primary Partners'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nursery'/><title type='text'>Confession #4 -- I Hate the Mass of Papers Tigger gets from Nursery</title><content type='html'>Tigger is 2 and therefore still goes to the Nursery. He absolutely LOVES it! As soon as the closing song from Sacrament meeting starts, he knows its time for Nursery next and he begins the rapid clean up. He practically jumps for joy all the way to the nursery room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I absolutely love the 3 Nursery teachers that are with the kids. They think about each kid and they really care about each one. They come early every Sunday to set up "stations" of toys throughout the Nursery room. They have absolutely everything planned out and organized. And, because I'm Primary President, I love that they ALWAYS get substitutes. Even if they only have to leave 15 minutes early. They are 100% reliable! And they are fun ladies to chat with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I really HATE all the little papers that they get. I hate them for two reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. They always end up covering the floor of the kid's room, usually with pieces or corners torn off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. They use the dreaded Primary Partners books for their ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I certainly don't mind having papers some of the time. I think it's good for the kids to color and cut, but IT"S EVERY WEEK!! And usually I have to find a moment when they aren't looking to toss the scraps in the bin. Now really....the kids are 1, 2, and 3 years old. Are they really going to remember what a hand out was for even a month later? Okay, maybe a 3 year old might.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that sometimes I do take the good ones and put them in my file of props for Family Home Evenings...but that is rare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5QvwrkbpZI/AAAAAAAAABM/aLA8CHsyjig/s1600-h/Primary+Partners.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157799986621818258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5QvwrkbpZI/AAAAAAAAABM/aLA8CHsyjig/s320/Primary+Partners.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And the second reason. The Primary Partners books. I personally think they are a cop out for a good lesson. The manuals the church puts out are fabulous. They have activity ideas, and attention getters. They have great stories and pictures to go along with them. I feel that when a teachers uses the pre-made Primary Partners versions of the lessons, they are missing out on a great opportunity to prepare their own lesson, AS GUIDED BY THE SPIRIT. I just don't like the books. And why should people make money off of the Primary lessons? Good grief!!! When we are teaching in the church, shouldn't we use the things the church has prepared for us? After all, a TON of thought and consideration went into those manuals. Wouldn't you feel terribly guilty teaching a child the wrong thing because you taught them something that the church didn't put out? I'm not even saying that the Primary Partners (or anything else like it) is teaching the wrong things? I'm just saying that the church has spent so much time and energy putting things together for us, we might as well use it! I will say one positive thing, though, that sometimes they do have good ideas for Family Home Evening topics. And yes, they are okay for Family Home Evening, because I know what I am teaching my kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-457229504497407197?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/457229504497407197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=457229504497407197&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/457229504497407197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/457229504497407197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-4-i-hate-mass-of-papers.html' title='Confession #4 -- I Hate the Mass of Papers Tigger gets from Nursery'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5QvwrkbpZI/AAAAAAAAABM/aLA8CHsyjig/s72-c/Primary+Partners.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-6965079457325459497</id><published>2008-01-18T16:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:48:05.332-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snacks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><title type='text'>Confession #3 -- Sometimes I Eat My Kid's Snacks During Church</title><content type='html'>This year we have afternoon church. Terrible time, IMHO, but what are you going to do about it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a grandmotherly lady that sits right next to us every Sunday at church. She absolutely adores Piglet and Tigger. She has adopted them as her grandkids since she doesn't have any of her own. Fine by me. Each week during church she has a little something for the kids. Usually there is a toy or two involved. Always there is a snack involved. And she brings good stuff, too. The stuff that I can't afford, and truthfully, probably wouldn't buy even if I could. (My favorite is when she brings chocolate covered peanut butter balls.) Occasionally, I find myself sneaking one or two into my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5FDcrkbpYI/AAAAAAAAABE/JZAXJU8PaGw/s1600-h/Cheerios.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156977208326858114" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5FDcrkbpYI/AAAAAAAAABE/JZAXJU8PaGw/s320/Cheerios.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya know...if she just brought some plain Cheerios, this wouldn't be a problem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BRING ON THE CHEERIOS!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-6965079457325459497?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/6965079457325459497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=6965079457325459497&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6965079457325459497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/6965079457325459497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-3-sometimes-i-eat-my-kids.html' title='Confession #3 -- Sometimes I Eat My Kid&apos;s Snacks During Church'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5FDcrkbpYI/AAAAAAAAABE/JZAXJU8PaGw/s72-c/Cheerios.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-8563732988225060567</id><published>2008-01-17T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:48:30.891-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='72 Hour Kits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Diapers'/><title type='text'>Confession #2 -- I Don't Have a Current 72 Hour Kit</title><content type='html'>But, I do have an old one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R4-sP7kbpXI/AAAAAAAAAA8/DV9TP4NsMxM/s1600-h/emergency+kit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156529488051021170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R4-sP7kbpXI/AAAAAAAAAA8/DV9TP4NsMxM/s320/emergency+kit.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I make this confession because awhile ago I (along with my other 7 siblings) was at my mom's house helping her clean out her garage. We came across a 72 hour kit that I remember putting together as a child one night for Family Home Evening. Because we were cleaning, we thought it would be interesting to see what was in this kit. We actually found some things that could still be used in one today. A hatchett, a flashlight that still worked (with new batteries), plastic eating utensils, etc. We also found things that we wouldn't use, even if our life depended on it. Food mostly. Old cans of Vienna Sausages (who eats those things?), packages of instant oatmeal, and some unidentifiable stuff. We found other things that were unusuable...bandaids that didn't stick, rubberbands that were cracked, shoes where the rubber soles were hard. Stuff like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing that rocked my boat was the fact that we found diapers. My youngest sister is now 17. That means that this 72 hour kit was last updated minimum of 15 years ago. At least my parents were trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's what I like to remember when I think about my 72 hour kit. The food in there is still edible and the bandaids still work. The clothing might not fit any one of us, but there are at least blankets. My 72 Hour Kit is just one of those things that I keep thinking I should be diligent about keeping up, but with my busy life as a mom of two, being a primary president, having my husband in school still, and having my husband in the bishopric, it's just not happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's okay. In my kit, I may not have underwear for Piglet, but I have diapers for Tigger and they are the right size!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-8563732988225060567?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/8563732988225060567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=8563732988225060567&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8563732988225060567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/8563732988225060567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-2-i-dont-have-current-72.html' title='Confession #2 -- I Don&apos;t Have a Current 72 Hour Kit'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R4-sP7kbpXI/AAAAAAAAAA8/DV9TP4NsMxM/s72-c/emergency+kit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4000631380329435562.post-1186557542867267497</id><published>2008-01-16T22:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:48:58.740-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Confession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kitchens'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleaning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dishes'/><title type='text'>Confession #1 -- My Dishes Are Not Always Done</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R47_rrkbpWI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xLQ9OIOVz48/s1600-h/housewife.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156339749280785762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R47_rrkbpWI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xLQ9OIOVz48/s320/housewife.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some people may think that when they come to my house, the dishes are always done. Little do they know. If I know someone is coming over, the first thing I do is clean the kitchen. Why? Because doesn't the kitchen reflect on all of our skills as a woman, a mother, and a wife? Sometimes I bend over backwards to make my kitchen spotless. Even if someone is just planning on dropping something off, you never know when they are going to need to come inside. I feel the need to make a good impression.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although I, with Peter's help, try to have the dishes done before we go to bed, this doesn't always happen. And when it doesn't happen, the next morning doesn't go so well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You see, when I first wake up in the morning and trudge downstairs to the kitchen...the cold kitchen, I might add...if I see that the dishes aren't done, it practically ruins my entire morning. I start off the day grumpy and it goes downhill from there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there you have it. My first confession. I know, I know...Most peopple don't get their dishes done all the time. But I had to say it...or at least type it...because awhile ago I had a friend comment on how clean my kitchen was every time she came over, and it just bugged me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nope, I'm not perfect, either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4000631380329435562-1186557542867267497?l=holly-homemaker.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/feeds/1186557542867267497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4000631380329435562&amp;postID=1186557542867267497&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1186557542867267497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4000631380329435562/posts/default/1186557542867267497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://holly-homemaker.blogspot.com/2008/01/confession-1-my-dishes-are-not-always.html' title='Confession #1 -- My Dishes Are Not Always Done'/><author><name>Holly Homemaker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01490712321268001358</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R5V4hLkbpdI/AAAAAAAAABo/ct-e--GYXik/S220/housewife.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FYiHyQ0BieY/R47_rrkbpWI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xLQ9OIOVz48/s72-c/housewife.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
