<?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-11783664</id><updated>2011-08-09T21:15:30.644-07:00</updated><category term='maviny'/><category term='sleep'/><category term='mother&apos;s day'/><category term='baptism'/><category term='fairy'/><category term='zeke'/><category term='nathan'/><category term='pony'/><category term='sticks'/><category term='aleza'/><category term='doorknob'/><category term='time-out'/><category term='ashley'/><category term='nick'/><category term='Aleza Suzanne'/><category term='tree'/><category term='grandma'/><category term='eggs'/><category term='easter'/><category term='dave'/><title type='text'>The Mouse House</title><subtitle type='html'>Life is crazy.
Enjoy every minute!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>64</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-5213710452196665212</id><published>2009-11-22T13:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T14:05:27.059-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='maviny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sticks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zeke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pony'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nathan'/><title type='text'>July Celebrations</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Swm0Dhp6E8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/NiZR7l3XMpY/s1600/Zeke_sticks_web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Swm0Dhp6E8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/NiZR7l3XMpY/s400/Zeke_sticks_web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407050800301740994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Have you ever met a little boy who doesn't like sticks?  Our Zeke loves them so much that he carries them around in his pocket!  I think they were more of a treat than the cotton candy he is sporting all over his face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Swm0DXIVixI/AAAAAAAAAEg/A8iWPVCBYTc/s1600/Nathan_horse_web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Swm0DXIVixI/AAAAAAAAAEg/A8iWPVCBYTc/s400/Nathan_horse_web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407050797476580114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I was surprised that Nathan really wanted to ride the ponies.  "Mom, can I do it again?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Swm0D-GFqYI/AAAAAAAAAEw/oFmLgW_31Ic/s1600/Maviny_horse_web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Swm0D-GFqYI/AAAAAAAAAEw/oFmLgW_31Ic/s400/Maviny_horse_web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407050807936133506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Princess Maviny on her pony.  She was very excited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-5213710452196665212?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5213710452196665212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=5213710452196665212' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/5213710452196665212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/5213710452196665212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/11/july-celebrations.html' title='July Celebrations'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Swm0Dhp6E8I/AAAAAAAAAEo/NiZR7l3XMpY/s72-c/Zeke_sticks_web.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-9020987362368227739</id><published>2009-11-22T13:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T13:50:59.288-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doorknob'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nathan'/><title type='text'>Screwdriver + Doorknob = Nathan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SwmxR6yByAI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7QQotfVF5zY/s1600/Nathan_doorknob_web.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SwmxR6yByAI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7QQotfVF5zY/s400/Nathan_doorknob_web.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407047749029971970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I think the picture is pretty self explanatory.  Nathan was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome just a few months ago.  He is so funny!  He is extremely intelligent ... reinstalling the doorknob after I removed it.  He just figures out where the parts go and gets to work.  He recently qualified for special ed ... but he is smarter than average ... he just has communication struggles.  It's kind of funny to have a gifted special ed student!  It will be interesting to see what he will surprise us with next ... I love him so much!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-9020987362368227739?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/9020987362368227739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=9020987362368227739' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/9020987362368227739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/9020987362368227739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/11/screwdriver-doorknob-nathan.html' title='Screwdriver + Doorknob = Nathan'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SwmxR6yByAI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7QQotfVF5zY/s72-c/Nathan_doorknob_web.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-3309834687696091503</id><published>2009-05-24T14:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T14:45:26.309-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Open Presents Every Day</title><content type='html'>We finally hired some piano movers to get our piano moved upstairs from our garage.   They had just finished carrying the padded, shrink-wrapped piano upstairs when I overheard a conversation Nathan was having with one of the big, tattooed men.  "Is that a present?  You get to open a present?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yep," he replied with the hint of a smile as he tore open the shrink-wrapped paino.  "I get to open presents every single day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could almost see the wheels spinning in Nathan's head.  I think he has decided on his profession.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-3309834687696091503?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3309834687696091503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=3309834687696091503' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/3309834687696091503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/3309834687696091503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/we-open-presents-every-day.html' title='We Open Presents Every Day'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-9178869005541180687</id><published>2009-05-24T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T14:38:45.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nick's Definition of Pretty</title><content type='html'>I was holding Aleza the other day and saying, "You are such a pretty baby!"  Nick overheard me and felt the need to correct me: "No, she's a cute baby.  Pretty is when you have long hair and rosy cheeks and freckles."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-9178869005541180687?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/9178869005541180687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=9178869005541180687' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/9178869005541180687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/9178869005541180687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/nicks-definition-of-pretty.html' title='Nick&apos;s Definition of Pretty'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-4728239344915845608</id><published>2009-05-17T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T16:29:32.729-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aleza'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mother&apos;s day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ashley'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dave'/><title type='text'>Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>I had one of the sweetest Mother's Days ever.  On Saturday, I took my mom out to an Italian restaurant (Carino's) for our favorite ... rare steak with penne  pasta and Gorgonzola sauce ... mmmm.  It was so fun to have my mom to myself all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, Mark made breakfast ... hash browns, bacon and an omlette.  The kids were so excited to give me their gifts.  Mark bought me a container of flowers and some new pans.  Nick made some coupons for helping me out around the house, Nathan made a dish towel with hand prints on it ... Zeke gave me lots of hugs and kisses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We brought Mark's Mom a pot of flowers and spent dinner with her.  I had fun taking pictures of Aleza with "Grandpa Dave" while we were there.  Dave also took a picture of Aleza and me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCclp3xLUI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/9BPRTe6WUdk/s1600-h/dave_and_aleza.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCclp3xLUI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/9BPRTe6WUdk/s400/dave_and_aleza.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336937729142893890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Grandpa Dave and Aleza&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCclgnb18I/AAAAAAAAAEI/w2vmTZKYlDM/s1600-h/ashley_and_aleza.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCclgnb18I/AAAAAAAAAEI/w2vmTZKYlDM/s400/ashley_and_aleza.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336937726658467778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ashley and Aleza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was thinking of Mark's stepmom all day and felt bad that we never called her.  I think I will call her today.  She's such a love!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-4728239344915845608?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/4728239344915845608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=4728239344915845608' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/4728239344915845608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/4728239344915845608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCclp3xLUI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/9BPRTe6WUdk/s72-c/dave_and_aleza.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-1210510318143918682</id><published>2009-05-17T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T16:03:37.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Man in the Mirror</title><content type='html'>I stepped out of the shower the other morning to some art work.  It made my day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCXpWeGcuI/AAAAAAAAAEA/M9PpMu_ETOc/s1600-h/man_in_the_mirror.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCXpWeGcuI/AAAAAAAAAEA/M9PpMu_ETOc/s400/man_in_the_mirror.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336932295096300258" 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/11783664-1210510318143918682?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1210510318143918682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=1210510318143918682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/1210510318143918682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/1210510318143918682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/man-in-mirror.html' title='Man in the Mirror'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCXpWeGcuI/AAAAAAAAAEA/M9PpMu_ETOc/s72-c/man_in_the_mirror.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-9000876804780708625</id><published>2009-05-17T15:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T16:14:08.855-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nick'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baptism'/><title type='text'>Nick's Baptism</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Nick was baptized on May 2, 2009 by Mark.  The day was so busy that I hardly had time to digest what was happening.  We spent the morning getting the house ready for family and friends to join us after the baptism.  Mark took Nick to go get his first set of scriptures as out baptismal gift to him.  Zeke pulled Aleza off of my bed right before it was time to go to the stake center.  Yikes!  My mom came just in time to help me get off to the baptism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We actually beat Nick and Mark to the stake center.  They ran to get dressed and didn't have time to get any pictures ... I'm sad about that.   There were five baptisms. I introduced Nick and Mark played his viola.  It was a really neat program.   Mark baptized and confirmed Nick.  I was actually able to record the confirmation and father's blessing for Nick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, the bishop told Mark that he had never had a baptismal interview like the one he had with Nick.  He said that Nick took time to ponder and answer each question thoroughly.  He didn't have just memorized answers - he answered from his heart.  When I asked Nick why it's important to be baptized he said, "One, it's a commandment.  I can become a member of the church.  I can live with God again.  That's it."  I'm so proud of Nick. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCSmKFIKiI/AAAAAAAAAD4/wLvVoo5fxXg/s1600-h/nick_baptism.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCSmKFIKiI/AAAAAAAAAD4/wLvVoo5fxXg/s400/nick_baptism.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336926742672583202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nick at the celebration after his baptism&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;On Sunday, Nick was asked to sit up on the stand to be recognized as a new member of the ward.  I was home with two sick babies so I wasn't able to be there.  Later in the week, I found his baptismal and confirmation certificate.  It looked like someone had made some corrections on the certificate.  I thought maybe the bishop needed to make a few changes and would print out a new one.  I brought it to Mark to ask about it ... he told me that he didn't know why Nick scribbled all over his certificate.  I burst out laughing!  Nick corrected the grammar and punctuation on his own certificate!  I think that is so funny!&lt;br /&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/11783664-9000876804780708625?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/9000876804780708625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=9000876804780708625' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/9000876804780708625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/9000876804780708625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/nicks-baptism.html' title='Nick&apos;s Baptism'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/ShCSmKFIKiI/AAAAAAAAAD4/wLvVoo5fxXg/s72-c/nick_baptism.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-2303578504167963049</id><published>2009-05-07T09:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T09:05:04.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Training</title><content type='html'>This morning after I helped Zeke go potty and wipe his bottom, he proudly stuck his little index finger in his behind and looked at it saying, "Look, all clean Mama!".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-2303578504167963049?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2303578504167963049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=2303578504167963049' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/2303578504167963049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/2303578504167963049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/05/potty-training.html' title='Potty Training'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-265508115234042631</id><published>2009-04-26T14:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T14:33:09.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nick is Eight</title><content type='html'>I can't believe how time has flown.   My little "Nickers" is eight.   Right now, he and his dad are visiting the bishop for his baptismal interview.  Wow.  We had a quiet birthday party for him.  We took him out to dinner at his choice - McDonalds.  Then we went to Nathan's soccer game and went home to eat cupcakes and blow bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan spotted the "bubble blowers" at Walmart and wanted to get them so much ... I thought it would be fun to have as a party favor for Nick's birthday.  It seems like Nathan asked me about those bubble blowers every hour until it was time to get them out.  I'm glad we bought them the day before Nick's birthday so I didn't have to hear about them for too long!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRbIszZaI/AAAAAAAAADw/V4VwEFfLZLg/s1600-h/nick_candles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRbIszZaI/AAAAAAAAADw/V4VwEFfLZLg/s400/nick_candles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329114523208213922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nick blows out his birthday cupcakes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRa6S0n0I/AAAAAAAAADg/UxQp2BNbPVk/s1600-h/boys_bubbles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRa6S0n0I/AAAAAAAAADg/UxQp2BNbPVk/s400/boys_bubbles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329114519341145922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;the boys playing with their bubbles&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRaongz5I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Of6g_yRk478/s1600-h/aleza_bubbles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRaongz5I/AAAAAAAAADQ/Of6g_yRk478/s400/aleza_bubbles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329114514596089746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nick shares his bubbles with his baby sister&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRaw06PJI/AAAAAAAAADY/A-1NJqqU64g/s1600-h/aleza_smiles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 315px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRaw06PJI/AAAAAAAAADY/A-1NJqqU64g/s400/aleza_smiles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329114516799765650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aleza is happy to watch her brothers and get her picture taken&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm having fun playing in Photoshop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRa0ypskI/AAAAAAAAADo/l-Q0TPNfhyA/s1600-h/messy_zeke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRa0ypskI/AAAAAAAAADo/l-Q0TPNfhyA/s400/messy_zeke.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329114517864034882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Zeke has a messy dirt bubble face while playing with Nick's new toys.  (Got to love little brothers!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-265508115234042631?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/265508115234042631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=265508115234042631' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/265508115234042631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/265508115234042631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/nick-is-eight.html' title='Nick is Eight'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SfTRbIszZaI/AAAAAAAAADw/V4VwEFfLZLg/s72-c/nick_candles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-4132473822756279099</id><published>2009-04-14T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:59:29.417-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aleza'/><title type='text'>We Love Aleza</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTOYlKxM9I/AAAAAAAAADI/hGf9jhzSDCw/s1600-h/Nick_holds_Aleza.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTOYlKxM9I/AAAAAAAAADI/hGf9jhzSDCw/s400/Nick_holds_Aleza.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324607581148230610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nick adores his baby sister.  He wants to hold her any chance he gets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTOYWYHGeI/AAAAAAAAADA/KtQ1A1MPxV4/s1600-h/LeeAnn_and_Aleza.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTOYWYHGeI/AAAAAAAAADA/KtQ1A1MPxV4/s400/LeeAnn_and_Aleza.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324607577177659874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Grandma LeeAnn holds Aleza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTOYMX3veI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1Uzlz1RinQU/s1600-h/Aleza_bedtime.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTOYMX3veI/AAAAAAAAAC4/1Uzlz1RinQU/s400/Aleza_bedtime.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324607574492298722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is how Aleza likes to sleep:  all bundled up with her binkie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-4132473822756279099?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/4132473822756279099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=4132473822756279099' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/4132473822756279099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/4132473822756279099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/we-love-aleza.html' title='We Love Aleza'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTOYlKxM9I/AAAAAAAAADI/hGf9jhzSDCw/s72-c/Nick_holds_Aleza.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-3704275759264439652</id><published>2009-04-14T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:35:38.610-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zeke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='easter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nathan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nick'/><title type='text'>A Visit to Grandma</title><content type='html'>I love Grandmas!  They tell the best stories, they love children, and they have laugh-lines!  Also, call me strange, I actually enjoy my cheeks being patted, pinched, kissed, whatever ... I think I must be perpetually attention starved.  Anyway... we got to go visit Mark's grandma on Easter Sunday.  Isn't she beautiful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTIzGklbGI/AAAAAAAAACo/ZVRgR-2gd9A/s1600-h/Grandma_Hartner_and_Nick_and_Zeke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTIzGklbGI/AAAAAAAAACo/ZVRgR-2gd9A/s400/Grandma_Hartner_and_Nick_and_Zeke.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324601439721712738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Grandma loves Nick and Zeke.  I love the light in her eyes in this picture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTIy2xKiJI/AAAAAAAAACg/Uwa08ru_4nI/s1600-h/Grandma_Hartner_and_Nathan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTIy2xKiJI/AAAAAAAAACg/Uwa08ru_4nI/s400/Grandma_Hartner_and_Nathan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324601435479509138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Grandma patting Nathan's cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-3704275759264439652?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3704275759264439652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=3704275759264439652' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/3704275759264439652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/3704275759264439652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/visit-to-grandma.html' title='A Visit to Grandma'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTIzGklbGI/AAAAAAAAACo/ZVRgR-2gd9A/s72-c/Grandma_Hartner_and_Nick_and_Zeke.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-5925608424535876326</id><published>2009-04-14T10:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:24:57.109-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zeke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='easter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eggs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nathan'/><title type='text'>Who Created this Tradition?</title><content type='html'>Obviously someone who thought it would be  a good idea to combine a five-year-old, a two-year-old, food coloring, eggs and stickers.  Well, they did enjoy it.  Zeke only colored his right hand.  Nathan, who can dismantle or reverse-engineer anything, only shredded the egg coloring kit.  All in all, it was a successful endeavor.  (Nick informed us that he only wanted to eat the eggs - not color them)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTFusWWYDI/AAAAAAAAACI/SGL8l0d0tZM/s1600-h/coloring_eggs_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTFusWWYDI/AAAAAAAAACI/SGL8l0d0tZM/s400/coloring_eggs_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324598065428324402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Egg-coloring in its innocent phase.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTFuw2K15I/AAAAAAAAACQ/iuKSMSYQNhc/s1600-h/coloring_eggs_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTFuw2K15I/AAAAAAAAACQ/iuKSMSYQNhc/s400/coloring_eggs_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324598066635528082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Getting more involved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTFu2xZdkI/AAAAAAAAACY/o8tONDAGyc0/s1600-h/coloring_eggs_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTFu2xZdkI/AAAAAAAAACY/o8tONDAGyc0/s400/coloring_eggs_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324598068226127426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Zeke experimenting with salt while Nathan helps open eggs he has no intention of eating.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-5925608424535876326?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5925608424535876326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=5925608424535876326' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/5925608424535876326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/5925608424535876326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/who-created-this-tradition.html' title='Who Created this Tradition?'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTFusWWYDI/AAAAAAAAACI/SGL8l0d0tZM/s72-c/coloring_eggs_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-2360937105442742244</id><published>2009-04-14T09:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:14:37.991-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zeke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sleep'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time-out'/><title type='text'>Time-Out Zeke!</title><content type='html'>Zeke is two-and-a-half.  Please don't forget the "half"; he never lets us forget it.  Zeke's recent misadventures include pouring a whole container of honey on the couch, coloring on the walls, and habitual cat-sitting (the literal kind).  He also throws tantrums, rocks, sticks, toys or whatever he can find.  He spends quite a bit of time on timeout (the top of the bathroom sink - not yet installed).  Two questions might come to mind:  How does he manage to survive the wrath of his desperate parents?  - and - Does the kid EVER sleep?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTCaV38_GI/AAAAAAAAAB0/XIRK7MIKFZM/s1600-h/Zeke_on_timeout.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTCaV38_GI/AAAAAAAAAB0/XIRK7MIKFZM/s400/Zeke_on_timeout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324594417262984290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Zeke asleep on time-out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTEJUKhL2I/AAAAAAAAACA/KuzVDY1sQ6Y/s1600-h/Zeke_stickers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTEJUKhL2I/AAAAAAAAACA/KuzVDY1sQ6Y/s400/Zeke_stickers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324596323769462626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Zeke in his element&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-2360937105442742244?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/2360937105442742244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=2360937105442742244' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/2360937105442742244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/2360937105442742244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/time-out-zeke.html' title='Time-Out Zeke!'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTCaV38_GI/AAAAAAAAAB0/XIRK7MIKFZM/s72-c/Zeke_on_timeout.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-6783426056844666375</id><published>2009-04-14T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:08:53.241-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fairy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nathan'/><title type='text'>Bat Boy vs. The Tooth Fairy</title><content type='html'>I think the Tooth Fairy wins hands down.  Nathan didn't want to be left out playing dress up with his best friend Karissa.  This picture could also be entitled "Future Blackmail".  When I asked Nathan what he thought of this picture ... he said he wants me to buy him a "Peter Pan boy fairy costume."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeS_s79tqVI/AAAAAAAAABs/jXrOtRcllVE/s1600-h/Nathan_fairy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeS_s79tqVI/AAAAAAAAABs/jXrOtRcllVE/s400/Nathan_fairy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324591438190455122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nathan the Fairy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-6783426056844666375?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6783426056844666375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=6783426056844666375' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/6783426056844666375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/6783426056844666375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/04/bat-boy-vs-tooth-fairy.html' title='Bat Boy vs. The Tooth Fairy'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeS_s79tqVI/AAAAAAAAABs/jXrOtRcllVE/s72-c/Nathan_fairy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-1097864030193713878</id><published>2009-03-29T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T20:45:58.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Glad the Day is Over</title><content type='html'>Wow, today has been nuts.  I forgot to go to my visiting teaching appointment this Thursday, so I woke up early to make some cookies as a peace-offering.  Nathan woke up in an extremely foul mood and started the day by throwing temper tantrums and hitting me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed a batch of cookies out of the oven and raced out the door to a 9:00am choir practice.  I had to race back at 9:30am because Mark volunteered to play his viola at a retirement center at 9:45.  I finished getting the kids ready for church amidst more tantrums and hitting.  I looked outside and the overcast day had turned into an all-out blizzard!  Yikes - I drug all four kids to church by myself, managed to sing in the choir with the three boys sitting relatively quiet in the pew.  Mark joined us after he helped sing in the choir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan decided he was hungry and he threw more tantrums and hit me some more.  I told him that little boys who hit cannot go to primary.  I told him I was afraid he would hit the other kids and the teacher.  He was so upset.  It was a lot harder to sit with him than to send him to class, but I think I got the point across.  It was really sad to hear him cry that he was hungry.  I had to tell him that he could eat after church and he was still so upset. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh - I forgot to mention that it was Zeke's turn to bring snacks to nursery.  In the middle of this, I had also volunteered to bring an Almond Puff Pastry to Amy's birthday party.  I made hamburgers for lunch after chasing the kids into the car and back home.  Nick said he didn't like his.  I was in the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon and then we ran out to Amy's party.  The party was pretty nice, but I am glad to be home now.  It was just a crazy day and I'm glad it's over!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-1097864030193713878?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1097864030193713878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=1097864030193713878' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/1097864030193713878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/1097864030193713878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-glad-day-is-over.html' title='I&apos;m Glad the Day is Over'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-5920524733116231449</id><published>2009-03-22T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T15:51:11.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aleza's Ears are Pierced</title><content type='html'>Erica and I took my nieces and our kids to the Children's Museum on Thursday.  I decided to get Aleza's ears pierced.  I felt so nervous and then wondered if I made a mistake as she screamed and  as sweet Nick cried for his sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they do look so girly!  It's fun to have a girl.  (Pictures will come soon. I just need to make sure I get this written down before I get distracted.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-5920524733116231449?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5920524733116231449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=5920524733116231449' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/5920524733116231449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/5920524733116231449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/alezas-ears-are-pierced.html' title='Aleza&apos;s Ears are Pierced'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-6281819642001803541</id><published>2009-03-22T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T15:40:21.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Want a Pony!</title><content type='html'>I love to watch horses - they are so beautiful and graceful.  I've ridden them a handful of times, and I remember loving the way I felt as the horse galloped over mountain paths. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, our close friends Becky and Guy have horses and I thought it would be fun to take my nieces who are visiting from Arizona to play with the horses.  I had so much fun helping Guy brush one of the horses (Rose) that I decided it might be fun to have a horse some day.  I could envision myself out galloping around and I got so excited that I asked Guy if I could take Rose out for a run.  He consented, but warned me that sometimes Rose gets excited and will run faster instead of stopping.  I figured I could handle it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got halfway though the field when Rose decided she was ready to go home and bolted.  Just as Guy warned, she went faster instead of stopping.  I found myself praying as hard as I ever have that somehow I would live through the experience.  My prayers were answered as I ungracefully fell off the running horse.  A week later, I still hurt.  But, nothing is broken and I am safe.  What can I say other than ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I DO NOT WANT A PONY!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-6281819642001803541?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/6281819642001803541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=6281819642001803541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/6281819642001803541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/6281819642001803541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-dont-want-pony.html' title='I Don&apos;t Want a Pony!'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-474827979944986638</id><published>2009-03-20T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T10:55:23.615-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ashley'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tree'/><title type='text'>My Grandma's Tree</title><content type='html'>We recently moved into the home that my grandma raised her kids in.   There is a tree in her yard that my girl cousins and I always climbed up into to talk and tell girl secrets.  Grandma made yummy apple pies from the apples that came from this tree.  I miss my grandma, she has always been one of my heroes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTNpEUZPaI/AAAAAAAAACw/ds4GOI3ALBs/s1600-h/Ashley_tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTNpEUZPaI/AAAAAAAAACw/ds4GOI3ALBs/s400/Ashley_tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324606764876381602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ashley in Grandma's apple tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-474827979944986638?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/474827979944986638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=474827979944986638' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/474827979944986638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/474827979944986638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-grandmas-tree.html' title='My Grandma&apos;s Tree'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SeTNpEUZPaI/AAAAAAAAACw/ds4GOI3ALBs/s72-c/Ashley_tree.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-5006301765265539557</id><published>2009-03-12T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T15:45:49.545-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aleza Suzanne'/><title type='text'>Aleza is Here</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Sbk5eIN_nCI/AAAAAAAAABk/cXAubsjuVBI/s1600-h/aleza4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Sbk5eIN_nCI/AAAAAAAAABk/cXAubsjuVBI/s400/aleza4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312340425225247778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Sbk5dzZ6PII/AAAAAAAAABc/fSQGMdEFAo4/s1600-h/aleza3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Sbk5dzZ6PII/AAAAAAAAABc/fSQGMdEFAo4/s400/aleza3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312340419638082690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Sbk5dT9AsyI/AAAAAAAAABU/qeTm2d2feHo/s1600-h/aleza1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Sbk5dT9AsyI/AAAAAAAAABU/qeTm2d2feHo/s400/aleza1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312340411195372322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, our beautiful baby girl is here.   I am so happy.  She was a month early.  I went in for a routine visit, and had developed a random case of Toxemia.  I guess it's pretty rare to have Toxemia on the fourth baby when all others have been delivered with no problem on my part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was funny.  So many of the nurses asked if her father was the same as my boys'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-5006301765265539557?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/5006301765265539557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=5006301765265539557' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/5006301765265539557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/5006301765265539557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2009/03/blog-post.html' title='Aleza is Here'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/Sbk5eIN_nCI/AAAAAAAAABk/cXAubsjuVBI/s72-c/aleza4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-8066445770089569663</id><published>2008-08-17T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T20:43:57.264-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Sad Boy"</title><content type='html'>Last week, Nathan was "Bat Boy".  This week, he is "Sad Boy".   Sometimes, he becomes inconsolable ... I think he must like the sound of his own crying.  Anyway, Mark found a funny way to get Nathan to stop crying ... he  takes a picture of Nathan crying and then shows it to him.  "Do you think that you're sad enough in this picture, or should we try again?", he asks.  Soon, Nathan becomes more concerned with making "good" sad pictures than with being sad!  Chalk one up for Dad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjvMWxUfqI/AAAAAAAAABE/vchCdf3lg8I/s1600-h/nathan_screams_park.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjvMWxUfqI/AAAAAAAAABE/vchCdf3lg8I/s400/nathan_screams_park.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235697562368114338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nathan is sad after falling down and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjvU-wXouI/AAAAAAAAABM/NFfD5rFGEqM/s1600-h/nathan_screams.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjvU-wXouI/AAAAAAAAABM/NFfD5rFGEqM/s400/nathan_screams.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235697710540497634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nathan is sad after fighting with Zeke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-8066445770089569663?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/8066445770089569663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=8066445770089569663' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/8066445770089569663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/8066445770089569663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2008/08/sad-boy.html' title='&quot;Sad Boy&quot;'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjvMWxUfqI/AAAAAAAAABE/vchCdf3lg8I/s72-c/nathan_screams_park.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-1287051368606523152</id><published>2008-08-17T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T20:35:27.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zeke's Birthday</title><content type='html'>Well, our baby Zeke turned two on Friday.  We threw him a little party on Saturday.  We couldn't get him to smile when we sang happy birthday.  He just stood there looking stoic.  It was pretty cute.  He spent the rest of the weekend singing the happy birthday song though, so he must have had an okay time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjtySQyEyI/AAAAAAAAAA8/iVCcLL6j70M/s1600-h/birthday_zeke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjtySQyEyI/AAAAAAAAAA8/iVCcLL6j70M/s400/birthday_zeke.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235696014969672482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Stoic Zeke"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-1287051368606523152?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1287051368606523152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=1287051368606523152' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/1287051368606523152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/1287051368606523152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2008/08/zekes-birthday.html' title='Zeke&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjtySQyEyI/AAAAAAAAAA8/iVCcLL6j70M/s72-c/birthday_zeke.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-213559388918886210</id><published>2008-08-17T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T20:31:47.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Backwards Nick</title><content type='html'>Sometimes, I play a game with the kids to get them dressed.  I get out clean underwear and instead of telling them to put it on, I just ask, "Do you want this on your head or on your bum?"  I do the same thing with each article of clothing.  The sillier the choices, the more fun.  Well, Nick decided to take me at my word!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjsqV_P18I/AAAAAAAAAA0/AGtdFWBoQhk/s1600-h/backwards_nick.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjsqV_P18I/AAAAAAAAAA0/AGtdFWBoQhk/s400/backwards_nick.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235694779019286466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nick with his clothes on "backwards?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-213559388918886210?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/213559388918886210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=213559388918886210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/213559388918886210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/213559388918886210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2008/08/backwards-nick.html' title='Backwards Nick'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SKjsqV_P18I/AAAAAAAAAA0/AGtdFWBoQhk/s72-c/backwards_nick.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-1720204213398198772</id><published>2008-08-17T19:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T19:53:20.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a GIRL!</title><content type='html'>Life has been very exciting lately, and especially this week.  I didn't mention before that in the midst of all the chaos, I got pregnant again (surprise!)  This is our fourth and last.  Anyway ... I've always wanted a girl, but I didn't know how much until we went to our ultrasound.  When the ultrasound technician said it was a girl, I felt tears welling up inside my eyes!!!  The doctor confirmed that our new little one will be a girl.  I'm so excited.  I'm already having dreams of making her a blessing dress. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've had her first name picked out forever.  Aleza.  We still need a middle name ... hmm.  Aleza Ashley?  Aleza Suzanne?  Aleza Marie?  Pepto Bismal pink has never been quite so attractive before!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-1720204213398198772?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/1720204213398198772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=1720204213398198772' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/1720204213398198772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/1720204213398198772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2008/08/its-girl.html' title='It&apos;s a GIRL!'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-17851926109123696</id><published>2008-08-10T20:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T20:31:37.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bat Boy</title><content type='html'>Mark bought me a new digital camera as a belated Mother's Day gift.  I think that's one of the catalysts of this blog starting again.  Anyway, it's been fun to take pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our little Nathan has such an imagination.  He loves to dress up.  When he's at Grandma Olga's house, he'll be batman even during mealtimes.  I think this picture sums up our "Nate-a-kins".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-yfEvLYCI/AAAAAAAAAAs/8dl7CdaZkyU/s1600-h/batman_nathan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-yfEvLYCI/AAAAAAAAAAs/8dl7CdaZkyU/s400/batman_nathan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233097538945114146" 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/11783664-17851926109123696?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/17851926109123696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=17851926109123696' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/17851926109123696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/17851926109123696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2008/08/bat-boy.html' title='Bat Boy'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-yfEvLYCI/AAAAAAAAAAs/8dl7CdaZkyU/s72-c/batman_nathan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-3129841855588663740</id><published>2008-08-10T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T20:25:07.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Beautiful Baby Boy</title><content type='html'>Okay, so he's really a toddler now.  He'll be two on Friday ... I can't believe it.  Here are some pictures of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-t5tWWThI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-wck9vSsOyw/s1600-h/zeke_before_surgery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-t5tWWThI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-wck9vSsOyw/s400/zeke_before_surgery.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233092498965286418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;My niece Maviny and Zeke shortly before Zeke's first surgery&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-ukubAVQI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Uw9bW0qq5ag/s1600-h/zeke_after_surgery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-ukubAVQI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Uw9bW0qq5ag/s400/zeke_after_surgery.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233093237987628290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Zeke right after surgery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-uurRsirI/AAAAAAAAAAc/xKlyh5Jiz8Y/s1600-h/zeke_after_logans_bow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-uurRsirI/AAAAAAAAAAc/xKlyh5Jiz8Y/s400/zeke_after_logans_bow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233093408941968050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Zeke two weeks after surgery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-u8n7Cr1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/U0J9T-uzmrU/s1600-h/zeke_current.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-u8n7Cr1I/AAAAAAAAAAk/U0J9T-uzmrU/s400/zeke_current.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233093648559812434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Dr." Nathan checking Zeke's heart on Friday night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;As you can see, Zeke looks incredible.  He still has some surgeries left, but not until he's a few years older.  The outside of his mouth is repaired, but the inside is still open.  So far, he's been a real trooper.  He's such a tough little kid.&lt;br /&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/11783664-3129841855588663740?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/3129841855588663740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=3129841855588663740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/3129841855588663740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/3129841855588663740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2008/08/our-beautiful-baby-boy.html' title='Our Beautiful Baby Boy'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qnjZM8KfQZg/SJ-t5tWWThI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-wck9vSsOyw/s72-c/zeke_before_surgery.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-750934591069723529</id><published>2008-08-10T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T19:44:58.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Return to Earth</title><content type='html'>Well, I guess I'm back.  The past two years have been extremely difficult.  First, we had a cleft baby.  He's so beautiful, but it was a very traumatic experience for me.  It's so hard to  watch your  baby  go through surgery after only a few months of life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the process, I think that must have triggered something else.  Anyway, I was struggling so much with postpartum depression and anxiety.  It got to the point where I had so much anxiety that I couldn't even think and I had a really hard time eating.  The strange thing was that I was so anxious about specific things that didn't make sense to worry about.  Well, I was diagnosed by three different professionals with OCD.   I always thought of OCD as some sort of perfectionistic ritual type thing, I never realized it was an anxiety disorder until I experienced it.  I felt so much anxiety that it was physically painful - panic attacks - the whole thing.  Yuck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the stories of my great-grandmother being committed for pushing a bed down the street make sense.  She was terrified that it was contaminated.  I was always afraid I would become insane like her ... I guess I did inherit the gene.  But, who would have thought that it was really OCD and not insanity ... which is worse anyway?  Just kidding.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, with a year of medicine and therapy, I'm feeling better than I have since junior high school.  Wow.  By the way, therapy has been way different than I thought.  Exposure and response prevention therapy is what has been found to help the most with OCD.  In other words, I get to do things like touch public toilet seats and asbestos and other yucky stuff without washing my hands or praying that I don't get sick.  It's been an interesting journey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-750934591069723529?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/750934591069723529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=750934591069723529' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/750934591069723529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/750934591069723529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-return-to-earth.html' title='My Return to Earth'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112561128605644276</id><published>2005-09-01T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-01T17:28:19.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Much To Do.</title><content type='html'>August has been a crazy month. Maybe it will be easier to sum up the events with a bulleted list. That way, I actually have a prayer of catching up on my journaling:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;   &lt;li&gt;We celebrated my Mother-in-law's birthday.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Visiting Teaching interviews.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;I ran a half-marathon.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Nicholas went to his first choir practice and hated it.  (This surprised me because he loves to sing.)&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;I ran sixteen miles.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Nick and Samuel had their first day of preschool.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;We celebrated Mark's 31st birthday for a week.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;I ran eighteen miles.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;We had a swimming party at Uncle Neil's condo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;I started stripping our wood floors. (This is definitely a can of worms that I'm not sure I can stomach. Oh well, it will be beautiful when finished!)&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;I took Nathan to the doctor's office.  He has croup.&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Laundry&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Weeded&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Cooked Dinner (lots of times).&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Clean, clean, clean&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Oh yeah, Mark brought home a little friend from one of his client's offices. Cockroaches are SO DISGUSTING! We had the bug guy come spray and haven't seen one since. Hopefully it was a lone roach. What are the chances?&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt; That list doesn't really look like enough of an excuse for me not writing for so long. I feel like I've been constantly running around. Well, hopefully it will get better. I haven't mowed the lawn for a few weeks. Yikes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112561128605644276?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112561128605644276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112561128605644276' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112561128605644276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112561128605644276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/09/so-much-to-do.html' title='So Much To Do.'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112561048116817878</id><published>2005-09-01T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-09-01T14:34:41.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Half-Marathon</title><content type='html'>I was happy with my first half-marathon time.  I finished right under 1:45 min.  Wow!  At that pace, I should be able to qualify for the Boston Marathon.  That would be very cool.  I hope everything works out well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think running has given me a little hemorrhoid problem.  It's been fairly painful and a little bloody.  Oh well.  Children :)  My post-child bearing body is definitely not the same as my pre-child bearing body.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112561048116817878?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112561048116817878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112561048116817878' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112561048116817878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112561048116817878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/09/my-first-half-marathon.html' title='My First Half-Marathon'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112247746701013108</id><published>2005-07-27T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-27T08:17:47.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Sick and Tired</title><content type='html'>Or is it Tired and Sick?  Stiff neck, sore throat, achy body, no appetite, tired.  So maybe the "no appetite" part is a plus, I haven't decided yet.  I'm actually feeling a bit better today.  I've been feeling really bad since Sunday night.  I didn't realize you could catch the flu in July.  Oh well.  I really hope this doesn't hurt my marathon training.  We're actually running the Provo 1/2 in a few weeks.  I'm a little nervous.  It's supposed to be a good indicator as to how well one would do on a full marathon.  I would really like to qualify for the Boston Marathon.  Maybe my goals are too lofty ... but it would be VERY cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, at least I've been able to curl up with my Harry Potter books without feeling guilty.  I just finished four.  I'm a little behind.  Book six is sitting up on my shelf waiting.  I'm excited.  I'm saving it for my treat!  I just need to finish book five.  It's been so long since I've read them, that it's almost like reading a new book.  I love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year is my 10-year high school reunion.  I haven't heard anything about it and the friends I've contacted don't either.  I guess the people in charge must have dropped the ball. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past week has been so busy.  Mark has been setting up an IP phone network for one of his clients on the side.  I haven't seen him much except for the times I'm helping him.  It'll be nice when it's done.  It's coming together really well.  The phones sound really good.  It will bring in some recurring revenue.  If all goes well, we wouldn't need too many offices for the business to thrive.  Not many people do IP phones yet, so it could be a really good niche to be in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to (get to?)  give a ten-minute talk in church for a combined Priesthood/Relief Society meeting on Sunday.  I haven't talked in church the three years we've lived in our house.  I think Mark has spoken three or four times.  It's pretty funny.  I better get writing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112247746701013108?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112247746701013108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112247746701013108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112247746701013108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112247746701013108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/im-sick-and-tired.html' title='I&apos;m Sick and Tired'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112187180712552499</id><published>2005-07-20T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T08:05:08.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nick and Samuel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Here are some cute pictures of Nick and his uncle Samuel. (Yes, Samuel really is Mark's baby brother)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/1600/nick.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/400/nick.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nick, July 18, 2005, age 4&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/1600/samuel.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/400/samuel.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;Samuel, July 18, 2005, age 3&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112187180712552499?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112187180712552499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112187180712552499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112187180712552499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112187180712552499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/nick-and-samuel.html' title='Nick and Samuel'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112187152275902115</id><published>2005-07-20T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T07:58:42.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nathan's Ouchie</title><content type='html'>We went to a family party at my mom's house on Sunday. Nathan was getting pretty brave at climbing some lawn chairs on my mom's patio. Next thing I know, I hear some screaming and I realize that he fell while climbing a chair. He must have slid a bit on the cement because here is the evidence. Doesn't it look horrible? I felt so bad for the little guy. He would rub his face and then scream because I'm sure it burnt. I lathered neosporin on it. Now he has a nice scab!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/1600/nate_ouch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/400/nate_ouch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Nathan, Monday July18, 2005&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/1600/nate_ouch3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/400/nate_ouch3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;Nathan- profile , Monday July18, 2005&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/1600/nate_ouch2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/400/nate_ouch2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What a good sport!  Sorry about that little buddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112187152275902115?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112187152275902115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112187152275902115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112187152275902115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112187152275902115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/nathans-ouchie.html' title='Nathan&apos;s Ouchie'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112186956896904645</id><published>2005-07-20T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T07:40:49.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Built It and They're Coming!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/1600/beans.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/400/beans.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I am so excited about my bean trellace. It was kind of fun to build. Now the beans are actually growing up the strings! No really, this is &lt;em&gt;exciting&lt;/em&gt;! I love to watch my garden grow. I think I'll try growing peas up a trellace next. Hey, maybe I can do that this fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent most of my day yesterday working in the yard. Mark has so much going on between his new job and his side business that I feel like I hardly see him. The last thing I want him to do is come home and mow the lawn. He should be taking me out on dates to nice restaurants instead ... don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We bought a car yesterday. It's kind of funny, but I'm excited. We bought a '92 Oldsmobile. It only had 106,000 miles on it and spent most of it's time in a garage. Mark read up on it and found that lots of people have been able to get 250,000 miles on theirs. So, it's almost like having a new car, only we paid $1,900 for it instead of $19,000. Pretty cool. We've still managed to never have a car payment. Our goal is to be millionaires by the time we turn fifty. Then we can retire and live off of interest. After all, isn't it all about how much you save? (That's what I keep telling myself ... sometimes it's &lt;em&gt;sooo&lt;/em&gt; tempting to spend lots of money!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112186956896904645?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112186956896904645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112186956896904645' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112186956896904645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112186956896904645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-built-it-and-theyre-coming.html' title='I Built It and They&apos;re Coming!'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112112433605848553</id><published>2005-07-11T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T16:25:36.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have a New Church Calling!</title><content type='html'>I am very excited.  I have been called to the the Family History Teacher.  It will be such a good opportunity to learn!  Now I'll have another excuse to learn more about genealogy!  I really get involved when I actually sit down at the computer and work on it.  I'm not feeling too talkative or writative right now.  I think I'm tired.  Maybe I'm reading too much Harry Potter.  Does this still count as an update Cher?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112112433605848553?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112112433605848553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112112433605848553' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112112433605848553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112112433605848553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-have-new-church-calling.html' title='I Have a New Church Calling!'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112112379674285939</id><published>2005-07-11T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-11T16:16:36.743-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bubbles</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1121122225-2.jpg?2042060776" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicholas and Nathan had so much fun blowing bubbles at a Fourth of July party at a friend's home.  I really should buy them some of their own bubble toys.  Am I the only one who worries about the mess?  Ever since Nathan discovered snails, I  get to enjoy scrubbing snail guts out of his clothes.  Did you know that smashed snails on clothes turn flourescent green?  I guess the chlorophyll from all my ingested flowers stays with the little buggers.  That is, until Nathan claims them.  I LOVE Spray and Wash!  I digress - do I sound bitter?  (I just spent two hours today scrubbing stains out of clothes!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112112379674285939?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112112379674285939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112112379674285939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112112379674285939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112112379674285939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/bubbles.html' title='Bubbles'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112112325973224902</id><published>2005-07-11T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T07:47:03.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Kitty Cat Gone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/1600/screen.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1121125808-2.jpg?1701130919" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toonses(left) and Cleopatra (right)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our naughty kitty a.k.a. "Toonses" escaped last Wednesday via a hole he pushed in the boys' bedroom screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/1600/screen1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: left" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7349/969/400/screen1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We looked for him all weekend. Our endeavors included scouring the immediate neighorheed (which includes several large fields, apartment complexes and a cemetery), calling and visiting the animal shelter, posting missing kitty signs throughout the neighborhood, and scouring websites of found pets. On Sunday, the kids found Toonses hiding in the garage. He was very thirsty, but in good health. He was so excited to see the kids, but when he saw me (Mommy") he wasn't happy. I think he knew the gig was up. He's been on his best behaviour all day today. This might sound horrible, but I'm so glad we found him before we spent any money posting his picture in the newspaper. I have just one thing to say,"The little STINKER!" I'm so relieved he's home safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112112325973224902?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112112325973224902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112112325973224902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112112325973224902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112112325973224902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/oh-where-oh-where-has-my-kitty-cat.html' title='Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Kitty Cat Gone?'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112040761222289471</id><published>2005-07-03T08:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-03T09:21:52.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I'm Too Harsh</title><content type='html'>"Heavenly Father is going to be mad at us if we don't go to CHURCH!" It's Sunday morning and I'm sitting at home with a screaming child while Mark is enjoying church. Nicholas threw tantrums all morning long as I bathed him and dressed him. He completely refused to eat until five minutes before we were supposed to be out the door. At which point, he threw a fit that he needed a cheddar cheese stick when we only had mozzarella. When Mark offered to let Nick help back out the car, Nick said "NO!" Mark went out to get the car and Nick started screaming that "I wanted to help Daddy back the car out!" He refused to get into the car, so I gave the ultimatum: "Daddy will go to church without us if you don't get into the car. This is your only chance." Nick screamed all the way to the car. On the way to church, he screamed that he wanted his hotdog. When we got to the chapel, he refused to get out of the car. I gave another ultimatum: "If you don't get out of your seat, we'll go home." Well, he didn't get out of his seat. So we're at home. Nick is limited to sitting in the bathroom, reading scriptures on the couch, or taking a nap in his bed. I feel really sad. It's so hard to punish him. But little boys who throw fits about church don't get to go to church. I really want church to be a reward for Nicholas instead of a punishment. I want him to love church. He is such a good boy. If anyone has any success with this topic, I'd be grateful for any tips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've struggled with Nicholas at church for a while now. He knows how much he can fight me. I just really feel like it shouldn't be a fight to go to church. I think it's an honor and a privilege to be able to worship God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick just fell asleep in the bathroom. I hope he feels better when he wakes up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112040761222289471?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112040761222289471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112040761222289471' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112040761222289471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112040761222289471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/maybe-im-too-harsh.html' title='Maybe I&apos;m Too Harsh'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-112001348716635057</id><published>2005-06-28T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T19:51:27.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Budding Poet</title><content type='html'>Nicholas approached me with a peom he created. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This and That&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is this one.&lt;br /&gt;This is that one.&lt;br /&gt;Which one is&lt;br /&gt;The right one, pal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Nicholas Hartner, age 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-112001348716635057?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/112001348716635057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=112001348716635057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112001348716635057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/112001348716635057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-budding-poet.html' title='My Budding Poet'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111999494188987099</id><published>2005-06-28T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-03T09:28:54.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Horrific Experience</title><content type='html'>I spent most of the day yesterday out in the garden. Of course, there was water and mud involved and of course the boys decided they needed to be involved too. Nathan was so filthy that I wasn't even sure if he was inside of the little glob of popsicle, sand and mud wandering around outside. Needless to say, we all needed a bath. After I finished planting my last batch of corn, I plopped Nicholas, Nathan and myself into the bath. After some scrubbing, we were all clean. I stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around me. My eyes wandered to the mirror for a split second before I looked back at the tub and saw Nathan's panicked face looking up at me from beneath the water. Everything was in slow motion as I threw my arm into the water to snatch up my sweet baby. Nathan smiled at me and put his head down on my shoulder. He wasn't coughing, so he must not have aspirated any water. I felt sick to my stomach and my heart was pounding. I've always been so careful about not leaving my baby unattended in the bathtub. I guess you can't even look away for a second. Being right by the tub isn't always enough. When he slipped into the water, he didn't even make a sound. Nick still has no idea what happened; it was so quick that he never saw anything even though Nick was in the tub with Nathan. I really feel like a guardian angel must have been holding onto my Nathan for me until I could grab him. What a blessing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111999494188987099?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111999494188987099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111999494188987099' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111999494188987099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111999494188987099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-horrific-experience.html' title='My Horrific Experience'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111999392494177670</id><published>2005-06-28T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T14:25:33.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nathan's New Hat</title><content type='html'>I heard screeches of frustration coming from my bedroom closet. I thought maybe my little Nathan had gotten himself stuck in the laundry basket that lives in the closet. I ran in to find my little boy trying to put on a hat. The only thing is that Nicholas's underwear are a little too tight to fit over Nathan's head without some help. I laughed inside and humored Nathan. Can I just say that I never knew underwear on a person's head could be so gratifying. I'll have to ask Nathan about what I'm missing out on when he's a little older.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111999392494177670?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111999392494177670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111999392494177670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111999392494177670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111999392494177670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/nathans-new-hat.html' title='Nathan&apos;s New Hat'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111999364264613285</id><published>2005-06-28T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-28T14:20:42.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Genealogy Success</title><content type='html'>I've caught the genealogy bug.  I love to sit on my Grandma Bright's couch and look through her old photos with her.  I've been going through my relatives' historys and photos and making sure all their oridinances have been done for them.  I found an uncle that only died in 1999 that needs his work done.  I was able to go to the Family History Center and get a disk ready to take to the temple.  Aunt Carolyn and her family will take his name to the Idaho Falls Temple.  I'm so excited.  It's been fun to read about my grandpa and his family.  I really appreciate them more and I feel like I really know them on a personal basis.  I really love my heritage and I appreciate all the people who made me who I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111999364264613285?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111999364264613285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111999364264613285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111999364264613285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111999364264613285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-genealogy-success.html' title='My Genealogy Success'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111876734209652425</id><published>2005-06-14T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-14T09:44:47.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Versatile Camper</title><content type='html'>We don't have to worry about Nick's comfort. When we go camping, we can just bring a box. A box provides hours of entertainment, and a very comfortable bed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1118767054-2.jpg?883366953" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nick's new bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1118767092-2.jpg?939497322" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where is Nick?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1118767124-2.jpg?292803700" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"How did you find me, Mom?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111876734209652425?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111876734209652425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111876734209652425' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111876734209652425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111876734209652425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/versatile-camper.html' title='The Versatile Camper'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111876689395831408</id><published>2005-06-14T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-14T09:47:40.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Daily Chores</title><content type='html'>Today is going to be a busy day.  I love lists, so I thought I'd write my list here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Exercise (done)&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Wash Nick's Bedding (in process)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Update blog (in process)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Wash sofa cushion (Nick had an accident yesterday)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Call about visiting teaching changes&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;Shower (most mom's know this is an actual accomplishment)&lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Cut out towels for hooded baby towels   &lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Go Visiting Teaching   &lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Bring Dinner to the Carter's   &lt;/li&gt;   &lt;li&gt;Enjoy Enrichment Night&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt; There will be some emergencies and daiper changes in there as well as the usual house cleaning. Oh, and I need to read stories to my kids and kiss and hug them about every fifteen minutes! It's fun to check things off the list!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111876689395831408?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111876689395831408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111876689395831408' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111876689395831408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111876689395831408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-daily-chores.html' title='My Daily Chores'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111876649172656968</id><published>2005-06-14T09:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-14T09:43:26.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Personal Record</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I keep forgetting to write this down because I was so excited that I acheived a new personal record for the 5K on a memorial day race. I came in at 22:21. This is really good for me. The whole time I ran the race, I stayed close to a couple of guys. One was wearing a T-shirt that read, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We Are the Champions".  &lt;/span&gt;That shirt kept me going. It's funny that running is so mental. Anyway, I ran pretty hard and had an upset tummy all day. It was still worth the pain, and I felt like I really achieved something. Someday, I would like to beat 18:00. I wonder if that goal is too lofty. We'll see!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111876649172656968?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111876649172656968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111876649172656968' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111876649172656968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111876649172656968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/my-personal-record.html' title='My Personal Record'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111809201802921757</id><published>2005-06-06T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T14:06:58.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Larissa's Pedicure</title><content type='html'>Saturday afternoon, the girls went shopping while the men watched the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/larissahome/gallery-msg-1118085092-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Antiquinee, Nicholas and Maviny hang out in front of the TV with uncle Chris&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/larissahome/gallery-msg-1118087986-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Maviny let Nathan have a taste of her candy.  Whenever she wanted to have a taste for herself, Nathan screamed.  Finally, she gave her sucker to her little cousin.  What a sweetheart!  I think the adage that "the way to a man's heart is through is stomach" is not only true, but also starts from infancy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday night, Alicia and I gave Larissa a pedicure.  Her poor feet were so calloused from all the miles she walked to share the gospel.  She is such an amazing missionary!  We scrubbed her feet for a long time! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/larissahome/gallery-msg-1118085154-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I think Larissa's guy friends Jeremy (left) and Spencer (right) were amused at us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/larissahome/gallery-msg-1118088731-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Larissa enjoys her foot bath.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/larissahome/gallery-msg-1118088788-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Larissa's Feet.  They turned out pretty cute if I do say so myself!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111809201802921757?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111809201802921757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111809201802921757' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111809201802921757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111809201802921757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/larissas-pedicure.html' title='Larissa&apos;s Pedicure'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111809119929721159</id><published>2005-06-06T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T13:53:19.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We All Made It</title><content type='html'>On Saturday morning, I met Mom and my sisters and brother at the Salt Lake temple.  What an amazing experience to have us all there.   Mom was teary-eyed almost the whole time.  The temple is such a blessing in our lives.  I'm so happy to think that we can be together forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111809119929721159?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111809119929721159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111809119929721159' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111809119929721159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111809119929721159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/we-all-made-it.html' title='We All Made It'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111809091394195774</id><published>2005-06-06T13:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T13:50:38.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Larissa Arrives</title><content type='html'>I sat in the car fidgetting as I watched the flight arrival times in the airport park and wait lot. Mark insisted on seeing Larissa's plane land before we went into the airport to meet her. My Mom and Chris and Alicia were already in the airport and I was sure I would miss Larissa's arrival. After what seemed like hours, we saw Larissa's plane land. The next thing I knew, she was here! After eighteen months in Venezuela and many letters about cockroaches, spiders and parasites, it was so good to see her! It was even better to hug her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1118088395-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My baby sister(right) and me(left)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/larissahome/gallery-msg-1118088670-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My sister Alicia (left) and my sister Larissa(right)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1118088444-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Larissa &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(left)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my brother Chris &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(right)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/larissahome/gallery-msg-1118088187-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My mom holding Nathan (I didn't get a picture of her with Larissa)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/larissahome/gallery-msg-1118088597-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hermana Bennett, Hermana ?, Hermana Bright (left to right)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111809091394195774?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111809091394195774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111809091394195774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111809091394195774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111809091394195774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/larissa-arrives.html' title='Larissa Arrives'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111808992364560567</id><published>2005-06-06T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T13:32:03.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nick's Office Job</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img3.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1118088324-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Sunday after church, Nick decided he had some work to do.   He hammered the sticks into the ground with his shovel.  "I'm planting trees!"  he announced.  I think the tall one in the front is a peach tree.  He also planted a strawberry tree.  I'm so pround of my little gardener!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111808992364560567?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111808992364560567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111808992364560567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111808992364560567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111808992364560567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/nicks-office-job.html' title='Nick&apos;s Office Job'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111808249835687235</id><published>2005-06-06T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-06-06T13:34:50.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Definition of a Zipper Bug</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zipper Bug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;A while ago, Mark passed really loud gas underneath our blankets. Nicholas, who was enjoying his morning snuggle time, dove under the covers. "I just heard a zipper bug!" He exclaimed excitedly, "Where is it?" He never found it, but every now and then, we still hear from the mysterious "zipper bug".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bear Ache&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Nicholas gave me this definition while munching on some &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Teddy Grahms&lt;/span&gt;:  "If you eat a lot of these crackers, you could get a head ache.  It's called a bear-ache."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tinkerbell and Zurg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Nicholas' favorite toy is a Tinkerbell keychain doll from Wendy's. She's missing a wing, but Nick doesn't mind. Nick always explains that Buzz Lightyear needs someone to save. Personally, I think Nick is "married" to Tinkerbell. Sometimes, he lets me in on his pretend games: "Mom, Satan gave Zurg powers so he can kill Tinkerbell." Tinkerbell always comes alive again after being buried in a tomb.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111808249835687235?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111808249835687235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111808249835687235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111808249835687235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111808249835687235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/06/definition-of-zipper-bug.html' title='Definition of a Zipper Bug'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111696978621881875</id><published>2005-05-24T14:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T14:23:06.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Boys</title><content type='html'>I spent all morning on Thursday getting these pictures for my Aunt Carolyn.  She's putting together a collage of all my grandma's great-grandkids.  I have a new respect for professional photgraphers.  I think we'll be visiting Sears Portrait Studio soon.  I just have to wait for Mark to find time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1116968577-2.jpg?987206102" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nathan - 15 months old&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;May 19, 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users8/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1116968504-2.jpg?7284123" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nick - 4 years old&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;May 19, 2005&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111696978621881875?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111696978621881875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111696978621881875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111696978621881875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111696978621881875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/my-boys.html' title='My Boys'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111696928851034878</id><published>2005-05-24T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-24T14:14:48.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nathan Must Be French</title><content type='html'>Last week, I was working in the yard and the boys were playing.  I noticed Nathan was playing with snails.  My initial thought was, "Yuck!"  But then I reasoned that I was getting a lot done and that he doesn't always entertain himself.  I went back to my yardwork.  The next time I looked up, he had smashed the snails all over.  I scooped him up and washed him.  I never realized how hard it is to wash snail entrails off of skin.  It's pretty sticky and slimy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have learned my lesson, but I didn't.  The next time I saw Nathan, the snail smashing had progressed to snail tasting.  What's more, he liked it.  Again I washed him up.  This kid is the world's pickiest eater.  I've only barely been able to feed him any kind of food other than yogurt and he's fourteen months old!  But ... he likes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;snails.  &lt;/span&gt;I took him back out with the camera because I wanted proof.   I handed him a snail and the first thing he did was put it in his mouth!  Eww!  I was sad because our camera went on the rampage and deleted a bunch of files:  no proof.  Oh well, it makes a good story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111696928851034878?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111696928851034878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111696928851034878' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111696928851034878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111696928851034878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/nathan-must-be-french.html' title='Nathan Must Be French'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111628487090128522</id><published>2005-05-16T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T16:07:50.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Thiry-Six Tomato Plants</title><content type='html'>Is it overkill?  I'm so excited.  We grew them from seed and so I have a maternal feeling for the little seedlings.  Today was a perfect day to plant:  overcast with rain in the forecast.  After setting aside some plants for family and friends, I was left with thirty-six.  With Nathan nestled in the carrying sling on my back, I planted twenty-four this afternoon.   Maybe I'll be able to sneak out some time today and plant the rest.  I also planted corn and peas.  I planted the corn and peas in the same row mixed together.  It'll be interesting to see what happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, my dream is to grow old with my sweet hubby and garden, garden, garden.  We'll get a few missions in there, some genealogy, some temple work, and some time with the grandkids.  I'm so glad we have all these interests in common.  It will be a joy to grow old with Mark.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111628487090128522?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111628487090128522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111628487090128522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111628487090128522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111628487090128522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/my-thiry-six-tomato-plants.html' title='My Thiry-Six Tomato Plants'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111628430482458156</id><published>2005-05-16T15:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T16:09:51.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Congratulations Honey!</title><content type='html'>Mark has been interviewing for a new job the past few weeks. On Friday, he got an offer to work as a Computer Engineer for L3 Communications. I'm pretty excited for him because it will give him a chance to actually work in the field he studied in school. I guess the interview was pretty intense. It lasted from 8:00 am to 3:30 pm. It must have gone well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark had another interview this morning. I'm pretty sure they's take him in a heartbeat. It's an IT job, but the hours are really nice. I think he'll take the first job offer. It will be fun to see what happens. Any way we look at it, a new job will be a big change. I think it will be a good change!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111628430482458156?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111628430482458156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111628430482458156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111628430482458156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111628430482458156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/congratulations-honey.html' title='Congratulations Honey!'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111628381755135474</id><published>2005-05-13T15:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T15:50:17.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nick's Bird</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1115948957-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicholas was so proud of his little bird that sits on his finger.  I was relieved the little bird was made from legos and not sign language!  I think all the Disney movies with friendly little animals has warped his sense of wildlife.  Oh well - it's pretty darn cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111628381755135474?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111628381755135474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111628381755135474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111628381755135474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111628381755135474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/nicks-bird.html' title='Nick&apos;s Bird'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111628365046121768</id><published>2005-05-13T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T16:23:59.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Angels in the Outhouse</title><content type='html'>Okay, it's not really an outhouse - but don't you think the title fits? I heard little squaks coming from the bathroom and discovered that my little angel had learned how to fly! He climbed all the way to the top of the toilet to retrieve my toothbrush. He thinks I'm terribly selfish because I don't like to share my toothbrush with him. Oh well. Toddler - 1; Me - 0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1115948837-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111628365046121768?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111628365046121768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111628365046121768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111628365046121768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111628365046121768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/angels-in-outhouse.html' title='Angels in the Outhouse'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111591013044793294</id><published>2005-05-12T07:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T08:02:10.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'>St. George Marathon</title><content type='html'>We're in.  I begin training the first week of June.   I'm a little nervous because I usually experience tummy trouble around mile seven.  I'm not sure what twenty-six miles will do.  Good thing I have Kristen and Enger to keep me going.  This will definitely be an adventure.   I'm excited!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111591013044793294?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111591013044793294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111591013044793294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111591013044793294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111591013044793294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/st-george-marathon.html' title='St. George Marathon'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111590983618578546</id><published>2005-05-12T07:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-12T07:57:16.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's My Turn</title><content type='html'>Nick seems to be fine, thank heavens.  However,  I started feeling sick on Tuesday night.  I threw up every few hours from midnight on.  Mark gave me a priesthood blessing.   I think that made a huge difference.  I only threw up once more and then just laid in bed with a queasy tummy.  I was able to keep hydrated and nurse Nathan.  I was so worried about not having any milk for him since I need to keep him from dehydrating with his continued diarrhea.  What a blessing.  I am so thankful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111590983618578546?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111590983618578546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111590983618578546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111590983618578546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111590983618578546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/its-my-turn.html' title='It&apos;s My Turn'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111575309370116797</id><published>2005-05-10T12:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-10T12:26:59.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Creative Eating 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1115752131-2.jpg?1454472832" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look Mom, I made Mickey Mouse! How can you get mad at that?  Forget about getting mad - how can you even lecture your child about not playing with his food when he looks at you with those big brown eyes? Instead, I just grabbed the camera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111575309370116797?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111575309370116797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111575309370116797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111575309370116797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111575309370116797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/creative-eating-101.html' title='Creative Eating 101'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111575141510897518</id><published>2005-05-10T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-05-10T12:39:48.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>Monday was a very hard day for me. Everything started out innocent enough. After running off my guilt of eating three cookies, cheesecake and a piece of pie for Mother's Day, I went home and mowed the lawn. I heard Nick screaming and went inside to check on him. He had peed his pants! Nick was hysterical and woke Nathan from his nap as I was cleaning him up. I took Nathan out of his crib and he threw up all over. Poor kid has the stomach flu. He threw up every ten minutes from about 11:00 am to 5:00 pm. It was horrible. I felt so bad for the poor little guy. I called the nurse around 1:30 and she said I should take him in if he couldn't keep a teaspoon of liquid down for fifteen minutes. I called back at around 2:00 and made an appointment for 3:30pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I lost my car keys and had to call and say we couldn't make it. Nathan still wasn't holding any liquids down, so the nurse thought he might have to go to Primary Children's Hopital to get an IV. When I was busy with Nathan (cleaning throw up off of everything and worrying sick about him), Nick fell asleep on the carpet and peed his pants again! I almost laughed aloud because of everything that was going on ... is this for real? Luckily, Nathan started holding stuff down again by the time Mark came home with the keys. We discovered a wet diaper and decided not to take him to the Hospital yet. (I didn't want him to have to go through that because he didn't have dry skin or sunken eyes - and he still cried tears) He only threw up on me once last night, and then got diarrhea. He pooped in our bed and on me and in the bathtub with me when I was up trying to cool his fever down. (He threw up the Tylenol I gave him)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Mother's Day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1115752083-2.jpg?1765173884" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little guy is doing much better today.  No vomit.  He still has diarrhea.  Poor kid!  I hope Nick doesn't catch the bug.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111575141510897518?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111575141510897518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111575141510897518' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111575141510897518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111575141510897518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/05/happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111445312530905147</id><published>2005-04-25T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T11:18:45.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toothpaste and Teddy Bears</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1114452745-2.jpg?1272228582" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toothpaste or a Teddy Bear?  Nathan picks the toothpaste - hands down!  He has a tendency to become attached to strange objects.  One week it was the Lanolin.  This week, it's the toothpaste.  He even goes through the bathroom drawer in specific search of his best friend, "Colgate".  Now whenever we want to brush our teeth, we just have to find Nathan.  And, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;where&lt;/span&gt; did that toothbrush go?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111445312530905147?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111445312530905147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111445312530905147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111445312530905147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111445312530905147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/04/toothpaste-and-teddy-bears.html' title='Toothpaste and Teddy Bears'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111445123669553312</id><published>2005-04-25T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T10:47:16.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorite Phrases of the Week</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Spiderman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick was busy playing Legos.  He told me that his Spiderman lego man was climbing up some sort of obstacle represented by a cup.  I felt a little nostalgic for my childhood days when my imagination was so vivid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow, it's so fun to use your imagination."  I commented.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not using my imagination."  Nick replied.  "But Spiderman is!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Wouldn't it be Funny?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Nick started laughing pretty hard the other morning at something he imagined.  I gave him a quizzical look and he related his thought:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wouldn't it be funny if you were saying your prayers really quiet, and God shouted down at you, "I can't hear you.  You're not praying loud enough!".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&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/11783664-111445123669553312?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111445123669553312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111445123669553312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111445123669553312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111445123669553312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/04/favorite-phrases-of-week.html' title='Favorite Phrases of the Week'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111445020796006611</id><published>2005-04-25T10:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-25T10:38:01.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nick's Fourth Birthday Party</title><content type='html'>Nick has been so excited for his birthday party for two months. He specifically requested a "Spiderman birthday party". He wanted a spiderman cake. My mom decorates cakes and has a very yummy recipe for frosting that I love (very fattening). She came over Friday night before the party to help me with the frosting. Saturday, I spent all morning making the Spiderman cake. I showed it to Nick and he threw a tantrum:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/nickbirthday/gallery-msg-1114448455-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't like it!" He screamed.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, what should we do with it?"  I was curious about the answer because I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;knew&lt;/span&gt; he was tired and probably liked the cake (he usually is very forgiving of my artwork- especially if sugar is involved).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Give it to Isaac!"&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, let's give it to Isaac."&lt;br /&gt;"Nooooooo!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he was hurt that I'd even consider giving his Spiderman cake away. It was pretty cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/nickbirthday/gallery-msg-1114448946-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nick and Samuel and little Nathan  stayed up too late Friday night having a Lego sleepover party. The bottoms of my feet are still recovering from stepping on all the little pieces. I think they had a lot of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/nickbirthday/gallery-msg-1114448657-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Samuel was so funny when it was time for Nick to open presents. (Of course he told Nick weeks ago what his presents were because it was a secret.) I think he was actually more excited about the presents that Nick was. He was right there opening the presents with Nick. I think Nick enjoyed the attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/nickbirthday/gallery-msg-1114448806-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was time for Nick to blow out the candles, he forgot to make a wish. I guess we have never really taught him make a wish before. He loves blowing out candles so much that his wish would probably be for someone to relight the candles! Happy Birthday Nick!  We love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111445020796006611?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111445020796006611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111445020796006611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111445020796006611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111445020796006611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/04/nicks-fourth-birthday-party.html' title='Nick&apos;s Fourth Birthday Party'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111385927867753215</id><published>2005-04-18T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-18T14:54:08.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Long Scientific Personality Test</title><content type='html'>Okay Cheryl, you can take the blame for this one :). You really do inspire me. So, with all the personalities possible, wouldn't any personality be pretty rare?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;INFJ - the counselor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You scored 27% I to E, 15% N to S, 14% F to T, and 26% J to P!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your type is best summed up by the word "counselor", which belongs to the larger group of idealists. Only 2% of the population share your type. You are so empathic that you often know what others need before they know themselves. You are a complex person who can deal with complicated issues and people, almost prefer to, as you love problem solving. You can be something of an idealist or perfectionist, and should try to take yourself a little less seriously.&lt;br /&gt;You are a supportive and insightful romantic partner, encouraging your mate to have dreams and work hard to make those dreams come true. Because you are so creative, you have a wealth of ideas to help them toward those goals. You need harmony so much that you are driven to resolve conflict quickly, as long as the terms don't violate your ethics. You feel the most appreciated when your partner admires your creativity, trusts your inspirations, and respects your values. It is also vitally important that your partner be open and emotionally available - in other words, that they be willing to share themselves completely.&lt;br /&gt;Your group summary: &lt;a href="http://keirsey.com/personality/nf.html"&gt;idealists (NF)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your type summary: &lt;a href="http://keirsey.com/personality/nfij.html"&gt;INFJ&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people &lt;i&gt;your age and gender&lt;/i&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You scored higher than &lt;b&gt;35%&lt;/b&gt; on &lt;b&gt;I to E&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;You scored higher than &lt;b&gt;12%&lt;/b&gt; on &lt;b&gt;N to S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;You scored higher than &lt;b&gt;4%&lt;/b&gt; on &lt;b&gt;F to T&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;You scored higher than &lt;b&gt;7%&lt;/b&gt; on &lt;b&gt;J to P&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="maincolumn"&gt; HOW THIS TEST WORKS:&lt;br /&gt;The test measures you in four different areas. It will measure whether you are more introverted or extroverted &lt;a href="http://keirsey.com/pumII/ei.html" a=""&gt;I vs E&lt;/a&gt;.  It will measure if you are more concerned with reality and facts or ideas and intuitions &lt;a href="http://keirsey.com/pumII/ns.html" a=""&gt; N vs S&lt;/a&gt;.  It will measure whether you are more logic based or feelings based &lt;a href="http://keirsey.com/pumII/tf.html" a=""&gt; F versus T &lt;/a&gt;.  Finally, it will measure if you are more go with the flow or someone who likes to have a plan &lt;a href="http://keirsey.com/pumII/jp.html" a=""&gt; J vs P&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Source&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=16567335035599898597"&gt;The Long Scientific Personality Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="maincolumn"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I graduated in Computer Engineering.  Does that fit in somewhere?  Maybe I could be a left-brained idealist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=16567335035599898597"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111385927867753215?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111385927867753215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111385927867753215' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111385927867753215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111385927867753215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/04/long-scientific-personality-test.html' title='The Long Scientific Personality Test'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111385622184143226</id><published>2005-04-18T13:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-18T13:36:19.850-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday</title><content type='html'>Nicholas is so proud that he is learning his letters. He copied the title of one of our favorite books. (I highly recommend this one) It's so fun to watch him learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1113856499-2.jpg?1483893272" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today one of my best friends from highschool finished the Boston Marathon. What an inspiration! I would like to run the St. George Marathon this fall. We'll see what happens. Maybe I'll be ten months pregnant by then! Or is it ten days ... feels the same. (just kidding)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an email from my sister, Larissa, today. She is serving a mission in Venezuela. She is having an amazing experience! It makes me realize how sheltered I am. There are so many perspectives and so many people to meet. The world is such a different experience for each person. A close friend told me of an experience she had in Isreal. She noticed children playing in the streets - so happy to be alive. How could they be happy in such a poor environment? They know nothing else. It is in our nature to seek happiness. Happiness is found within ourselves. We have the power to choose whether we want to be happy or not. No one can really take that from us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="body"&gt;Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="bodybold"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/v/viktorefr160380.html"&gt;- Viktor E. Frankl&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to read about this man's experiences.  He has such an amazing attitude!  Maybe some of it will rub off on me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111385622184143226?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111385622184143226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111385622184143226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111385622184143226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111385622184143226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/04/tuesday.html' title='Tuesday'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11783664.post-111324596354295876</id><published>2005-04-11T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-04-11T13:01:02.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It All Begins Here</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://images.buzznet.com/assets/users7/mommymouse/default/gallery-msg-1113249759-2.jpg?1734443674" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is way too short and my memory it too fleeting. I need to write all these precious (sometimes questionable) experiences down while they are fresh in my mind. Our two little ones keep Mark and me so busy. They consume almost every minute, but they give so much more. Every day I realize that the future really does lie upon the shoulders of our children. Some days the thought of this future scares me to tears and other days I'm so proud to be a mommy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11783664-111324596354295876?l=mommymouse.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/feeds/111324596354295876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11783664&amp;postID=111324596354295876' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111324596354295876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11783664/posts/default/111324596354295876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommymouse.blogspot.com/2005/04/it-all-begins-here.html' title='It All Begins Here'/><author><name>Ashley</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10627481411504225154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
