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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YHRX46cCp7ImA9WhRaE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781</id><updated>2012-02-16T01:52:14.018-05:00</updated><title>Hello Sneakers, Goodbye Heels</title><subtitle type="html">because every new mom needs some good suppport...</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>113</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels" /><feedburner:info uri="hellosneakersgoodbyeheels" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEEQ3w9fSp7ImA9Wx9SF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-7214178201673483353</id><published>2010-12-07T12:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T12:40:02.265-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-07T12:40:02.265-05:00</app:edited><title>Final Thoughts--My Last Post</title><content type="html">As Aubrey turns 1, I feel like I am ready to officially "finish" my blog. It has served its purpose for me, and I hope that it has served some purpose for other moms out there. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I started this blog for a variety reasons. I first wrote it because I was so surprised by motherhood, that I wanted to share my experiences and feelings with other new moms so they knew they weren't alone. As the months went on, I also liked the idea of having a documentation of Aubrey's first year-for both her and for me. It will be really entertaining to go back and read my experiences as a new mom with Aubrey when she is older. And lastly, blogging has been very cathartic for me. I've always expressed my thoughts and feeling through writing, and the blog gave me another means besides journaling to do that. It's a lot faster to type than it is to write! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Some final thoughts for my last post. Obviously, those thoughts will be about my baby girl, Aubrey, since it's the eve of her first birthday. For the last few days, I have been replaying all of the details of this time last year in my head. My mom and I going to my doctor's appointment where he said, "It's time to go the hospital", me telling my mom that I guess it's too late to change my mind, eating a "last" meal at Scotto’s pizza (broccoli pizza with ricotta, a breadstick, and a huge Coke), calling my husband and him not answering (don't worry, he called me back right away!), being induced and having to wait forever for contractions to start, screaming for an epidural when they did start, pushing for 35 minutes and thinking I was going to die right then and there, and the biggest moment of all...seeing Aubrey-healthy, beautiful, perfect. Exhaustion, relief, joy, and love all rolled into one big feeling. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As all moms know, you can't put into words the love you feel for your baby. What has been even more surprising to me is that my love for her triples every single day. My real life started on December 8, 2009 at 7:12pm. From that moment on, I finally felt a true sense of purpose and joy. Everything in my life is better because of Aubrey. Having a child gives you hope, joy, and a profound love that you've never felt before. It's 100 times more challenging than I thought it would be, but honest to God, it is 100 times better than I thought it would be. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thank you all for reading my blog, commenting, voting, and your support since I've started. Good luck on your journeys as moms, and maybe I'll be back when #2 comes along! (That is NOT a pregnancy announcement!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-7214178201673483353?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ok7Q9XZo4vOpsb8R7W85x3X01Eo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ok7Q9XZo4vOpsb8R7W85x3X01Eo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ok7Q9XZo4vOpsb8R7W85x3X01Eo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ok7Q9XZo4vOpsb8R7W85x3X01Eo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/iw6IXPJIc1w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/7214178201673483353/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/12/final-thoughts-my-last-post.html#comment-form" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/7214178201673483353?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/7214178201673483353?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/iw6IXPJIc1w/final-thoughts-my-last-post.html" title="Final Thoughts--My Last Post" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/12/final-thoughts-my-last-post.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QDRX85cSp7ImA9Wx9SEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-5435310800512740601</id><published>2010-12-01T13:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-01T13:49:34.129-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-01T13:49:34.129-05:00</app:edited><title>I Finally got to Make my Christmas Cookies</title><content type="html">Last November, I was delusional. I'm not sure if I ever told this story on my blog before, so I apologize if you've already heard this.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As I said, it was last November. My mom and I were sitting on my couch, a few weeks before my December 3rd due date. I gazed starry eyed across the room and excitedly proclaimed, “I can’t wait until the baby is born! It will be so great to have a baby at Christmas time! I’ll bake chocolate chip cookies and decorate and watch Christmas movies while she sleeps. Maybe she can even go shopping with me.  I can’t wait!” My mom gently smiled and softly shook her head, “Oh, Christie... I wouldn’t plan on it.  Having a newborn may not be exactly as you envision it." &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I felt like a seventeen year old who was just told, “Oh, wait until you get to the real world." I convinced myself that my mom (a woman with three kids and thirty years of parenting experience) had no idea what she was talking about. My experience would be different.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, my mom was BEYOND right. Last December I averaged 2-3 hours of sleep a night. Aubrey's naps ranged from 15 minutes to an hour, and they weren't very often. When I did have a spare 45 minutes, I certainly wasn't whipping up Christmas cookies. I was in such a fog all month that I probably would have forgot the oven was on and burnt the house down. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, I am happy to say, that THIS year, I finally got what I had envisioned. I just finished my first batch of Christmas cookies while Aubrey napped (because now she actually naps for 2 hours, instead of twenty minutes) and Aubrey and I have been shopping together all week as we drive around listening to Christmas music. My house is decorated and we even put lights up outside this year.  I am in SUPER Christmas spirit mode this year, because I feel like I missed out on Christmas last year. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This time last year I had no idea what I was in for with a newborn baby. I had no idea that the first four weeks of motherhood would be the most difficult four weeks of her first year. The December ’09 “fog” feels like it was years ago, and I am so happy to be able to enjoy the holidays in full force again—with plenty of sleep and plenty of Christmas cookies &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-5435310800512740601?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IWlovVrtpwG1kOCreJlfM5fxtrU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IWlovVrtpwG1kOCreJlfM5fxtrU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IWlovVrtpwG1kOCreJlfM5fxtrU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IWlovVrtpwG1kOCreJlfM5fxtrU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/EHuu-kFSEck" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/5435310800512740601/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/12/i-finally-got-to-make-my-christmas.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/5435310800512740601?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/5435310800512740601?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/EHuu-kFSEck/i-finally-got-to-make-my-christmas.html" title="I Finally got to Make my Christmas Cookies" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/12/i-finally-got-to-make-my-christmas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUIBQng6fyp7ImA9Wx9TFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-5083995160487816351</id><published>2010-11-23T13:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T13:39:13.617-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-23T13:39:13.617-05:00</app:edited><title>Get me out of here!</title><content type="html">Paris, New York, London, Milan--we have a problem. As much as my daughter loves looking at herself in her latest fashions, she HATES clothing stores. WHAT?!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And it's not just clothing stores. It's any section of a store that has clothes in it. She loves Target, but the second we go into the clothes section, she screams her head off. Carters? Children's Place? Baby Gap? Babies R Us? FORGET IT. She has had temper tantrums in these stores (more than once) which included ripping clothes off the racks and flinging them across the aisle. When I try to hold her, she wiggles and squirms so violently that I'm afraid she's gonna fly herself out of my arms and onto the floor. Somehow she has already learned that if she acts like a crazy lunatic, her mommy will frantically run to the nearest exit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After many attempts to take her clothes shopping, I've realized that it’s just not happening--yet. I'm hoping she will grow out of this phase and will be ready to shop til she drops by the time spring comes around. When I was pregnant, I had visions of going out shopping with Aubrey, but as long as these tantrums keep up, it looks like I'll be shopping for her the same way I shop for myself--online!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-5083995160487816351?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SGeEa_q6UdHSMiYAfNauymqdhvQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SGeEa_q6UdHSMiYAfNauymqdhvQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SGeEa_q6UdHSMiYAfNauymqdhvQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SGeEa_q6UdHSMiYAfNauymqdhvQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/DLgUBXK8X3o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/5083995160487816351/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/11/get-me-out-of-here.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/5083995160487816351?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/5083995160487816351?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/DLgUBXK8X3o/get-me-out-of-here.html" title="Get me out of here!" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/11/get-me-out-of-here.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUDQHk8cCp7ImA9Wx9TFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-6699970186479643746</id><published>2010-11-22T13:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T13:24:31.778-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-22T13:24:31.778-05:00</app:edited><title>The Trade Off</title><content type="html">I'm learning that sometimes a mess is worth the time it takes to clean it up. Aubrey loves getting into things. She loves to open the nightstand by my bed and rip everything out. We joke and call her "Hurricane Aubrey", because after she's done with a drawer or cabinet it looks like a hurricane hit.  I should also mention that my nightstand is where I hide everything that I don't know what to do with. For example, old receipts, playing cards, chargers, boxes of check books, etc. So, she has plenty of things to scatter all over the floor and entertain herself with for quite a good amount of time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hurricane Aubrey used to bother me. I would say, "NO!" and pull her away from the nightstand or drawer (whatever room she was in at the time). Then one day, I really needed to get ready so I could leave the house early. Her toys just weren't keeping her entertained. So, I let her tear apart my nightstand. For THIRTY MINUTES she sat and played! I was right near her getting ready, and she didn't even fuss once for my attention. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After this experience, I realized that sometimes the mess is worth the five minutes it will take to clean up after she's done. If it buys me a half hour to get ready, I don't care what she tears apart! Now I’m not trying to be clever, but I really do need to go clean up the mess she made in my bedroom this morning before naptime ends!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-6699970186479643746?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WmAYJMMmf2JMOSqnRuSJRY8iRD0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WmAYJMMmf2JMOSqnRuSJRY8iRD0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WmAYJMMmf2JMOSqnRuSJRY8iRD0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WmAYJMMmf2JMOSqnRuSJRY8iRD0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/0G1Bv2kx03g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/6699970186479643746/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/11/trade-off.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/6699970186479643746?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/6699970186479643746?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/0G1Bv2kx03g/trade-off.html" title="The Trade Off" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/11/trade-off.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQGRn45eSp7ImA9Wx9TEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-2336972954678970136</id><published>2010-11-18T21:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T21:22:07.021-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-18T21:22:07.021-05:00</app:edited><title>My Little Teenager</title><content type="html">So I know people warned me that the first year of motherhood would fly by, but I had no idea that by 11 months my daughter would be acting like a teenager.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Let me start by saying that for the last couple of weeks, Aubrey has really loved wearing her headbands and sunglasses. She takes them out of the drawer herself, and even tries to put them on.  So today she was hanging out in her bedroom, rockin out to Isty Bitsy Spider (the girl can dance), wearing her Dora shades and fancy headband.  She also happened to be holding my cell phone.  Then she started walking across the bedroom floor (yes, she is walking now!) in her little black leggings, hot pink baby UGGs (actually they are TUGGs, Target brand UGGs...), holding the cell phone up to her ear, chatting away. She seriously looked like a little mini 15 year old. She even bitched at me when I took the phone away! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Before I had a baby, I didn't have any idea of just how big the personalities of almost-1-year olds were. I figured they still were very “baby” like and only did things like try to walk and say “mama” and “da-da”.   This girl has got sass, a love for electronics, an eye for fashion, and she does not like "no" for an answer. I don't know about you, but that sounds like a teenager to me! Perhaps she is already going through the teenage phase, and she will be a mature, beyond her years, 15 year old instead? Ah, I can dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-2336972954678970136?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/C3BOuJwtwJUn_Ws_-35UhsLd6SQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/C3BOuJwtwJUn_Ws_-35UhsLd6SQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/8FglBJ8KUdk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/2336972954678970136/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/11/my-little-teenager.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/2336972954678970136?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/2336972954678970136?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/8FglBJ8KUdk/my-little-teenager.html" title="My Little Teenager" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/11/my-little-teenager.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MFSHs_fSp7ImA9Wx5aGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-2640836585491547536</id><published>2010-11-15T13:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T13:23:39.545-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-15T13:23:39.545-05:00</app:edited><title>Recharging Your Battery</title><content type="html">I think I am very lucky that I am surrounded by people who allow me the time I need to recharge my batteries. My mom is always around when I need her, and my husband never puts up a fight if I want some time alone. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This past weekend, I went up to Connecticut to visit one of my best friends (and mom to be!) while my husband stayed home with Aubrey. God bless him, he even conquered the grocery store and got all but one item on my very long list! Of course I missed Aubrey from the second I walked out the front door, but I knew that my trip to Connecticut was worth it. Not only did I get to spend two days with my friend Michelle (doing nothing but shopping, talking, and eating--woo hoo!), but when I came home yesterday I felt like I had just had a two week vacation.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I've written a lot on my blog about how much I treasure date nights or "me" time, and the reason is because it makes me a better person and a better mom. When I get opportunities to "recharge my battery", I always come home happier and more energized. Nine out of ten days with Aubrey are so much fun and I enjoy every second with her. But for that one day out of ten that makes me want to run for the hills, knowing I have a date night or alone time helps me to get through it with my sanity still intact! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I know that if I have another baby it will be harder to get this time alone, so for now I am going to take advantage of it and savor every quiet second!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-2640836585491547536?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bW2z3olnyowvHuEq7DtUG-WpOgY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/bW2z3olnyowvHuEq7DtUG-WpOgY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/fhJVMIsx7rQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/2640836585491547536/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/11/recharging-your-battery.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/2640836585491547536?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/2640836585491547536?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/fhJVMIsx7rQ/recharging-your-battery.html" title="Recharging Your Battery" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/11/recharging-your-battery.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUAQ3g4fyp7ImA9Wx5aFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-793837649418832754</id><published>2010-11-10T13:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T13:04:02.637-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-10T13:04:02.637-05:00</app:edited><title>Miss Independent</title><content type="html">Aubrey and I spent the morning at the library for Moms group. It was also the library's song/story time, so it was quite busy in there (I felt bad for the poor folks who thought they were going to have a quiet morning at the library!). Before I go on, let me just say that my library has the BEST kid's section. It's insane. You could spend hours there and not get bored. Toys and tunnels, blocks and games, computers and books (although, the books are the most unpopular option in the kid's section!), there is something for everyone. It's especially entertaining because you are in a room full of other moms and kids. If any  of you moms out there are looking for a way to kill a morning or an afternoon, check out your local library! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, after the stories and songs they opened up the room for open play. I was sitting on one of the chairs talking with a couple of other moms, and when I let Aubrey down to go play, I assumed I would be chasing after her the whole time. Much to my pleasant surprise, I sat and talked with the other moms for 15 minutes while Aubrey made her way around the room playing with all the toys. I don't think she even looked at me once, but more importantly, I didn't have to GET UP once. YES! It was awesome.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Eventually we had to leave the private room (the one they use for classes), and play in the main kid’s area. Unlike the private room, there were no walls keeping her contained, so she was free to roam. And roam she did. I was actually sweating after awhile from chasing her so much. I don't mind her being on her own (when she's in my sight of course), but when she is trying to climb up rocking chairs and attempting to rip up library books, I feel that's the time to go chase after her.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Despite the sweating and constant chasing, our trip to the library made me really happy today for various reasons. For one, it counts as my exercise for the day. If I break a sweat, that is exercise. Secondly, I got to know some more moms in my group. Sometimes you don't realize how nice it is to have other "mom" friends until you get to know other moms. It's so nice to talk to other women who understand exactly what you're going through. We were talking about naps today, and one very new mom said, "Sometimes when I hear him wake up from his nap, it makes my stomach sick because I still need a break." How great it was for her to be able to say that, and not be judged, but instead have a room full of other moms say, "Girl, we know EXACTLY how you feel."  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And lastly, the trip today made me happy because Aubrey loved it so much. I got to watch her play, and I saw how independent she really is. Even though she spends every waking minute with me, she didn't even blink when I was out of her sight, and she was surrounded by strangers. She was off and running, "chatting" with other moms and babies. She was playing with other kids as if she's known them for &lt;strike&gt;years&lt;/strike&gt; months.  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As I watched her from a distance, she never once stopped to look for me. You may think this would make me sad, but it made me so happy to know that she feels safe in her world and that she’s not afraid to explore or be away from Mommy. It's been a crazy 11 months, but today made me feel like I must be doing &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt; right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-793837649418832754?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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They will start to test your limits and see how far they can push the boundaries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought this was hogwash until I noticed that my precious little baby girl is already purposely defying and manipulating me! For example, if I say "No" sternly and move her away from a dangerous object (that she was trying to eat), she crawls right back to it, turns her head to look at me, and then gets a devilish little grin. She stares at me and waits to see what I'm going to do. She then grabs the object again. This cycle repeats over and over. It also happened today when she bit me! I screamed when she bit my arm and I guess she loved the reaction, because she did it again and started cracking up laughing. Oh boy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of these little instances got me thinking about discipline and how important setting boundaries and being consistent are when raising a child. I learned that lesson very early on as a teacher, and I certainly plan on using the same philosophy in my parenting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across this poem online about "Mean Moms", and it really hits the nail on the head when it comes to "tough love". This poem reminded me a lot about how my parents raised us, and I am thankful for it now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To all you Mean Moms (and Dads!)...&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday when my children are old enough to understand the logic&lt;br /&gt;that motivates a parent, I will tell them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough... to ask where you were going, with whom,&lt;br /&gt;and what time you would be home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough... to insist that you save your money and buy a bike for yourself even though we could afford to buy one for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough... to be silent and let you discover that your new best friend was a creep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough... to make you go pay for the bubble gum you had taken and tell the clerk, "I stole this yesterday and want to pay for it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough... to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your room, a job that should have taken 15 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough... to let you see anger, disappointment and tears in my eyes. Children must learn that their parents aren't perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved you enough... to let you assume the responsibility for your actions even when the penalties were so harsh they almost broke my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most of all, I loved you enough... to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it. Those were the most difficult battles of all. I'm glad I won them, because in the end you won too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-3569070549534256390?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qcrC-w0CDkjd03HZOwai3MS8xOU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qcrC-w0CDkjd03HZOwai3MS8xOU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/t3w7iiYYYjY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/3569070549534256390/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/to-all-you-mean-moms.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/3569070549534256390?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/3569070549534256390?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/t3w7iiYYYjY/to-all-you-mean-moms.html" title="To All You Mean Moms" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/to-all-you-mean-moms.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYMRH86fSp7ImA9Wx5UFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-755541914265254453</id><published>2010-10-20T12:10:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T15:33:05.115-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-20T15:33:05.115-04:00</app:edited><title>Join a Moms Group? Check!</title><content type="html">Well, I can check another item off of my &lt;a href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/05/10-things-i-must-do-by-30.html"&gt;10 Things I Must Do by 30&lt;/a&gt; post from a few months back. I have finally found a Moms group in my area to be a part of. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit, I almost backed out of going to the play date today. I had no reason to want to back out. All the moms live within 5 minutes of my house, they all have young children, there are a TON of activities we can attend (for free!), they have Mom's night out each month, the group notifies you of all the fun township activities going on, and they also have a lot of great service opportunities (such as food and clothing drives and bringing meals to new moms). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I was afraid of meeting new people (what if they are all mean and judgmental?!) or  if it was the thought of committing to something, but luckily I decided that if I want to improve my day to day life, I have to do DIFFERENT things. Your life doesn't just change by sitting around the house hoping for something to happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, I defeated my stagnant mentality and took Aubrey to the playgroup today...and of course, it was a great time! She got to play with (well, more like watch) other kids and try out some new toys. Her favorite was the huge moon bounce that I thought people only rented for birthday parties. Apparently, people own them. Well, Aubrey LOVED it. Are you surprised? A device where she can just sit and bounce for as long as she wants? It's a 10 month old’s dream! I also got to meet some other moms in my town--and none of them were mean or judgmental like I feared (obviously), haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope that joining this group is the start of a fun new phase for me and Aubrey. It's all what you make of it, and I plan on making the most of it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-755541914265254453?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_o054s4gyjKPBnR-6KORNGEjux4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_o054s4gyjKPBnR-6KORNGEjux4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/cHvz4okdpQE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/755541914265254453/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/join-moms-group-check.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/755541914265254453?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/755541914265254453?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/cHvz4okdpQE/join-moms-group-check.html" title="Join a Moms Group? Check!" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/join-moms-group-check.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MEQXg_fyp7ImA9Wx5UE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-1730280150347580375</id><published>2010-10-17T11:30:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T13:10:00.647-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-17T13:10:00.647-04:00</app:edited><title>Thanks Mom!</title><content type="html">As I write this, it's almost 1:00 on Sunday afternoon. I've spent the last 20 hours baby free (thanks to my mom), celebrating my 3 year wedding anniversary with my husband. Well, I guess I wouldn't count grocery shopping this morning as celebrating, but knowing that I could peruse the aisles (do I want the 16 oz salad dressing on the 24 oz? hmmm….) and not have to worry about Aubrey losing it was good enough for me! Last night we had a delicious dinner and then went bowling. Bowling for an anniversary? Yes! I've been begging Justin for a few years now to go bowling. I don't know why I love it so much--I'm really, really bad (even with bumpers). Nonetheless, we finally went bowling and we were home in time to watch the Phillies game. Total bummer that they lost, but it was still fun getting to watch the game with the tv blasting and being able to scream (in both celebration and in anger), without having to worry about waking Aubrey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was our night without the baby, but I'm writing today's post for my mom, because I am so grateful for everything she has done to make sure Justin and I still have time to ourselves. At least once a month she takes Aubrey overnight (staying out late is much more fun when you know there is no 7am wakeup call!), and she also watches Aubrey at other times as well. Just the other day she took Aubrey from 6am til 5pm so Justin and I could spend the day in NYC. About two weeks ago she watched Aubrey so I could go shopping for clothes that don't fall under the "sweats" category. She is always happy to watch her, and she has even rearranged her work schedule at times to be able to help us out. I am so grateful that I have a mom that loves being with Aubrey as much as I do, because Lord knows I appreciate-and need- the "breaks". I don't know what I'd do without her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Mom for all your help with Aubrey, I wish I could do more for you than just say thank you, but I am still waiting on that lottery win (or book deal).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-1730280150347580375?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Cri2ZwrOGXThFgNBAAJ1M3D-oek/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Cri2ZwrOGXThFgNBAAJ1M3D-oek/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/xlHk1sh22l0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/1730280150347580375/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/thanks-mom.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/1730280150347580375?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/1730280150347580375?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/xlHk1sh22l0/thanks-mom.html" title="Thanks Mom!" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/thanks-mom.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMDSXs5cCp7ImA9Wx5UEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-3017754575536030712</id><published>2010-10-14T11:50:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T12:07:58.528-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-14T12:07:58.528-04:00</app:edited><title>10 Months and She's Hooked on Chocolate</title><content type="html">This morning I was thoroughly enjoying and taking full advantage of having a calm morning. Aubrey was in a chill mood; one of those moods where she can sit in the same place and do the same thing for 20 minutes. I love those moods! So, I went into the kitchen with her and started doing some things like prepping her fruits/veggies for later on and wiping down my appliances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; At one point, I opened the refrigerator door and Aubrey spotted a bunch of fun size Kit Kats. She grabbed all the Kit Kats from the fridge(they were still wrapped, of course), and since they are too large for her to put in her mouth and choke, I let her play with them on the floor. She was having fun sitting on the floor banging them together, hitting the fridge with them, just playing nicely by herself.  I knew that would keep her occupied long enough for me to finish what I was doing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as I was chopping up some carrots, I noticed that the banging and noises had stopped, and she was being quite quiet...too quiet. I could see her from the corner of my eye sitting on the floor, but I noticed her back was now turned to me. When I walked over to see what she was up to, she looked up at me, chocolate covering her lips, sucking the life out of the (now opened) Kit Kat bar! Apparently, she had cut through the wrapper with her teeth and was now sneakily enjoying her first piece of chocolate! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help but laugh when I saw her. She must have known she was doing something wrong, because she was smart enough to be very quiet and have her backed turned to me. Naturally, I took the Kit Kat bar away from her, and being a true girl at heart, she screamed bloody murder. I just hope I will still be able to get her to eat her apples now that she's had a taste of the good life :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-3017754575536030712?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-c2UbDQt1Ft8_NbajwbHa5P1TgY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-c2UbDQt1Ft8_NbajwbHa5P1TgY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/5R3xq5xBN3M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/3017754575536030712/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/10-months-and-shes-hooked-on-chocolate.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/3017754575536030712?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/3017754575536030712?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/5R3xq5xBN3M/10-months-and-shes-hooked-on-chocolate.html" title="10 Months and She's Hooked on Chocolate" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/10-months-and-shes-hooked-on-chocolate.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUMRnc7cSp7ImA9Wx5VGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-2107145821747941009</id><published>2010-10-11T12:45:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T13:14:47.909-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-11T13:14:47.909-04:00</app:edited><title>It's a Birthday Party, Not a Wedding Reception</title><content type="html">My sister is not one to dish out advice. She listens, but mostly keeps her opinions to herself.  My sister and I were talking, and I told her how I had been stressing over what to do about Aubrey's 1st Birthday. In an ideal world, I'd have a big house that could handle a first birthday party. In a semi-ideal world, I'd at least have enough money to rent a hall to throw the party (who knew that halls cost $500!). Unfortunately, neither of these situations reflects my life situation right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was telling my sister how bad I felt because I couldn't throw a big shindig for Aubrey's birthday, and she said to me, "It's a birthday party, not a wedding reception". For some reason, those words really resonated with me. As I was googling first birthdays, I could not believe my eyes at how carried away you can let yourself get. From $100 invitations to gourmet cupcakes, you can spend a fortune on your child’s 1st birthday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would never judge someone who threw a huge party, because truth be told, if I had the bank account to have a big bash I would love to! But in MY life situation, I was trying to plan a party that I simply could not afford.  My sister's words helped me to remember that it's okay not to have a huge party with a fancy cake, catered food,  and a 75 person guest list...it's a birthday party, not a wedding reception. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, we decided that we will just invite our family and have it at my mom's. The house will be filled with people who love Aubrey, and she will have so much fun seeing and playing with all of her family. We'll have all of the 1st birthday staples—things such as party hats, balloons, and a yummy cake. But I won't miss a mortgage payment trying to keep up with the Joneses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I shop for the birthday necessities, I will remember the mantra, "it's a birthday, not a wedding reception" when I am tempted to buy something that just isn't in my budget. Besides, I only have 15 more years until Aubrey starts hitting me up for some outrageous sweet sixteen party, and I have a feeling my mantra won’t hold up as well in an argument with a 15 year old!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-2107145821747941009?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XyxoTCAKdo5OM2EivK0L2kPfQJU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XyxoTCAKdo5OM2EivK0L2kPfQJU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/ZtufDqu6Izg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/2107145821747941009/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/its-birthday-party-not-wedding.html#comment-form" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/2107145821747941009?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/2107145821747941009?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/ZtufDqu6Izg/its-birthday-party-not-wedding.html" title="It's a Birthday Party, Not a Wedding Reception" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/its-birthday-party-not-wedding.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEAFQno9eCp7ImA9Wx5VFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-2008897924697891163</id><published>2010-10-09T12:06:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T12:45:13.460-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-09T12:45:13.460-04:00</app:edited><title>The Top 10 at 10</title><content type="html">My little newborn had her 10 month "birthday" yesterday...10 months! She's practically not even an infant anymore. She's been standing by herself more and more lately, and I know it's just a matter of time before she's walking. I don't miss that young newborn stage; it was probably the craziest three months of my life! But I am in shock that in two months, she will be a year old. This year really is flying by, but it just keeps getting better and better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Aubrey's 10 month "birthday", here are my Top 10 Favorite Things about Aubrey at 10 months:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. She laughs at everything, and I mean everything...she has such an awesome sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. She always smiles and waves at people in stores, causing the cutest little scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The way she rubs her face against anything soft, so cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. When she wants me to read to her, she picks up a book, drags it over to me, and then sits in my lap. Such an advanced child ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. When she hears something loud (like the vacuum), she comes crawling up to me super fast and snuggles against my chest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. There is a train that runs along the top of the ceiling in Wegmans. Whenever we are food shopping, she stares up waiting for that train to come. As soon as she sees it, she starts laughing and jumping up and down in her seat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Aubrey can stare out the screen door for endless amounts of time watching the squirrels play with each other.  Likewise, she loves being outdoors-she would stroll around outside and stare at squirrels all day if we could!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. When Daddy leaves for work, she crawls over to the screen door, she smiles real big, and waves bye-bye until he drives away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. She loves looking at pictures of family and friends. She points to the people she knows in the pictures and screams with excitement. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Aubrey has favorite commercials, usually ones that have a catchy jingle. When she hears one of her favorites come on (the Friendly's commercial, HH Greg, AT&amp;T- just to name a few), she stops in her tracks and stares at the tv. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.  (sneaking in an extra!) When you ask Aubrey to give you something, she holds out the object as if she were going to hand it over, then swipes it back once you reach for it. All while laughing at you, of course   What a little sneak!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Ok just one more, I promise.  After she wakes up from a nap, she doesn’t want to come out of her crib right away. When you go in her room to get her, she races around her crib and plays, daring you to try to get her. She even tries to hide by putting her head in the corner of the crib against the bumper!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could list so many more things! This is such a cute age, and I just don't ever want to forget these little moments with her that are so precious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Very excited to be 10 months old!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TLCbORuQ06I/AAAAAAAAAb8/QbfGxuqYOnM/s1600/001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TLCbORuQ06I/AAAAAAAAAb8/QbfGxuqYOnM/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526087412361515938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Who knew a diaper box could be so fun?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TLCbOps3DiI/AAAAAAAAAcE/DBKrMl2vPig/s1600/002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TLCbOps3DiI/AAAAAAAAAcE/DBKrMl2vPig/s320/002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526087418798083618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-2008897924697891163?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gY73AbWTdBL3KsPmradzLrRg54k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gY73AbWTdBL3KsPmradzLrRg54k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/2frvCuO3KXg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/2008897924697891163/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/top-10-at-10.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/2008897924697891163?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/2008897924697891163?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/2frvCuO3KXg/top-10-at-10.html" title="The Top 10 at 10" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TLCbORuQ06I/AAAAAAAAAb8/QbfGxuqYOnM/s72-c/001.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/top-10-at-10.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MBQn8yeSp7ImA9Wx5VFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-7438052434773229226</id><published>2010-10-07T20:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T20:57:33.191-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-07T20:57:33.191-04:00</app:edited><title>Personal Day!</title><content type="html">Yesterday couldn't have come at a better time. Monday and Tuesday were really tough days with Aubrey. Come to find out, she had a bad stomach bug. You DO NOT want to know how I figured this out. Let's just say it involved a crib (and baby) completely covered with poop. One of the only things that got me through Tuesday was knowing that Wednesday my mom was coming over to watch Aubrey so I could go out all afternoon, by myself. Call it a Mom's "personal day", if you will. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first stop was to Babies R Us. My mom tried to stop me from going there, since I was supposed to be out shopping for myself, but I had to go. Aubrey needed some new pjs and I had a gift card that I intended on using for a diaper bag. That counts as shopping for me, right? I don’t know what else I was expecting, but every where I turned I saw a pregnant woman or mom with a baby. Instead of rejoicing in my freedom of being childless for the day, I found myself thinking, "Awww, I wish I was pregnant again and registering" or "Awww, I wish I was pushing my cute little baby girl in a cart and chatting with her". Completely forgetting how just last week I WAS there with Aubrey, and it was not so pleasant. She screamed the whole time-hence the reason I was back there a week later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then it was off to the mall to buy myself some clothes, yipee! I had some birthday money to spend and considering that every time I go to the mall with Aubrey I see thousands of things that I want, I figured I would be in my glory. I had money in my pocket, coke in hand, and no baby stopping me from trying on all the clothes I want. Funny thing happened though. I went from store to store and tried on NOTHING. Nothing caught my eye, and I felt like I needed (well, wanted) so much stuff I didn't even know where to start.  Feeling defeated, I left the mall, money still in my pocket, tempted to just go to Carters and buy a bunch of baby clothes.  Just to be safe, I avoided passing Carters on the ride home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called my mom and even though it was getting late, she encouraged me to keep shopping and I would find some stuff. I eventually found my inner shopping bug again and bought myself some nice fall sweaters and boots, but not without every mom's least favorite accessory--guilt :( Even though it was my birthday money, I still felt like I should be spending it on Aubrey! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guilt aside, it was a GREAT DAY! 4 hours of driving and shopping on my own terms, no distractions, free to take my time and only think of (gasp!) myself! Of all my birthday gifts this year, 4 hours alone surely takes the cake. Even if I had come home empty-handed, it still would have been well worth the time alone. Thanks ma!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-7438052434773229226?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wifbHKFKqUDs2VQeCd2WmrquH2Q/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wifbHKFKqUDs2VQeCd2WmrquH2Q/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/jtgFfdz41yk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/7438052434773229226/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/personal-day.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/7438052434773229226?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/7438052434773229226?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/jtgFfdz41yk/personal-day.html" title="Personal Day!" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/personal-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8CSXkyfip7ImA9Wx5VEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-3941211897282440444</id><published>2010-10-04T16:47:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T17:14:28.796-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-04T17:14:28.796-04:00</app:edited><title>The Hard Days</title><content type="html">Things with Aubrey have definitely gotten easier as time has gone by. She has her nice, predictable schedule, we are getting to really know each other, and she is just so much more fun than she was at 3 months. I've gotten used to the changes I've had to make as a stay at home mom...I don't always get to shower or eat lunch or get the things on my list done that I want to get done, but I really am fine with all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, there are days like TODAY. Hard days.  Days when the fussiness starts at 8am. Days when she just does not want to nap or be happy. Days when she wants to get into EVERYTHING and even a trip to Target doesn't hold her attention. Days when I know she's not teething, but I give her baby Orajel anyway, hoping maybe she is teething and this will make her happy again. Days when I envy the celebrities who can afford nannies to watch their baby on the hard days so they can escape and go shopping or to the gym. Or out for a margarita. No nanny for me, I am the nanny. Even with my makeup on, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror today and thought, "AHH!" I looked like I just ran a marathon. I FELT like I just ran a marathon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:15pm hit and I was running on fumes. So I picked up Aubrey and said, "Sorry girl, I need 15 minutes" and I put her in her crib. I heard her make some yells for me, but I needed a breather. And the poor dog needed to go for a walk. After ten minutes, her room was silent. She was asleep. Looks like I wasn't the only one who needed a rest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesson learned: If Aubrey is so fussy that I can no longer keep up with her, chances are she is just as tired as I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was rough, but I’ll take it. You gotta take the good with bad. I just hope we are back to the good tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-3941211897282440444?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CCoSgvxvMAJ74HkU6bVuBl6yXcM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CCoSgvxvMAJ74HkU6bVuBl6yXcM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/zxkT13xZ9mM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/3941211897282440444/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/hard-days.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/3941211897282440444?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/3941211897282440444?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/zxkT13xZ9mM/hard-days.html" title="The Hard Days" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/10/hard-days.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ADQnw8fip7ImA9Wx5WGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-5034554739311392048</id><published>2010-09-30T12:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T12:56:13.276-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-30T12:56:13.276-04:00</app:edited><title>My New Nutritionist</title><content type="html">I have a new rule to help me eat healthier snacks(meaning more fruits and veggies, less chocolate and ice cream). If Aubrey is eating it, I have to eat it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking through the grocery store with my cart loaded with healthy stuff, and I thought how if someone looked in my cart they would probably assume I was quite healthy. Unfortunately, I am more likely to snack on Cheez- Its or Mike and Ikes when hungry strikes, as opposed to an apple or carrot sticks. However when Aubrey is ready for a snack, I take plenty of time chopping up fresh fruits and preparing veggies for her. I am really not being fair to myself! I should take care of myself as well as I take care of her.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my new rule is if she's eating it, I must eat it. Even if I don't like it. Like bananas-gross. I only like bananas if they are on top of ice cream or in the form of tasty banana nut bread. But, if she's eating them, I will eat them- plain. If she's eating peas and carrots, I will make myself eat peas and carrots. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far my plan is working pretty well. It's a gradual process, but I know that I have to be a healthy example for her. If she grows up watching me eat healthy foods, she will be more likely to pick up those habits. If she sees me eating junk all the time, chances are she will eat the junk too. This is one of the best parts of being a parent-when you have a child, it automatically flips a switch in you that MAKES you want to do better and be better in every part of your life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Aubrey! Don't worry, we'll still sip on Cokes and munch on fries when you're older, but just as a treat, not as a habit :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-5034554739311392048?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/789eOfKuAOnqMzIKpEV-fkDLiyI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/789eOfKuAOnqMzIKpEV-fkDLiyI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/8B8x0hru5Fg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/5034554739311392048/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/my-new-nutritionist.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/5034554739311392048?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/5034554739311392048?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/8B8x0hru5Fg/my-new-nutritionist.html" title="My New Nutritionist" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/my-new-nutritionist.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEMRnkyeCp7ImA9Wx5WGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-6143948476535160033</id><published>2010-09-30T11:12:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T11:31:27.790-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-30T11:31:27.790-04:00</app:edited><title>Last Minute Weekend Plans for South Jersey Moms!</title><content type="html">So, I'm a little late getting this post out there, BUT if you are a reader who lives in my area (which I know many of you are), I have a great opportunity for you this weekend. And chances are, you are already heading to the mall anyway (I know I will be, thanks to the $25 gift card I received for promoting this fun event for the team at Everywhere!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rockettes are coming to Macy's at the Cherry Hill Mall this weekend! Not only will you and your children be able to meet The Rockettes, but your little ones will also be able to receive dance instruction! There will be plenty of photo ops and each young dancer who participates will receive an “Honorary Rockette” certificate! Sorry Moms, our honorary Rockette days have long passed,  haha.  Can you imagine how fun and exciting this will be for your kids? They'll be the center of attention Monday morning during "Share Time" in school :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a FREE event and takes place THIS Saturday at 2pm at Macy's in the Cherry Hill Mall. If you can't make that event, the Rockettes will be back in New Jersey on October 16th at Macy's in Bridgewater for a similar demonstration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a once in a lifetime event for your kiddos, and something they will never forget. I hope you get a chance to get out to the Cherry Hill Mall and see the Rockettes.  What a great way to "kick" off the fall season.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-6143948476535160033?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/naRquuiJMDCEPGW7OoWZVGU58M8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/naRquuiJMDCEPGW7OoWZVGU58M8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/HTBKGdU81i4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/6143948476535160033/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/last-minute-weekend-plans-for-south.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/6143948476535160033?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/6143948476535160033?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/HTBKGdU81i4/last-minute-weekend-plans-for-south.html" title="Last Minute Weekend Plans for South Jersey Moms!" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/last-minute-weekend-plans-for-south.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUBR3o4eSp7ImA9Wx5WGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-9138056568719065783</id><published>2010-09-24T20:05:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T13:04:16.431-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-30T13:04:16.431-04:00</app:edited><title>What Do You Wish You'd Known at 13?</title><content type="html">&lt;em&gt;Imagine a world...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…where every girl grows up with the self-esteem she needs to reach her full potential.&lt;br /&gt;…where every woman enjoys feeling confident in her own beauty.&lt;br /&gt;…where we all help to build self-esteem in the people we love most. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be wonderful, wouldn't it? These are the inspiring words behind &lt;a href="http://www.dovemovement.com/"&gt;Dove's Self-Esteem Movement&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't usually do many reviews, but when Dove contacted me about spreading the word for their campaign, I couldn't refuse. I think that self-esteem is such an important issue facing women and girls today. It is my belief, as a woman and mother, that it is our responsibility to give our daughters the love and support they need to reach their full potential. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visit their &lt;a href="http://www.dovemovement.com/"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt; to find out how YOU can be a part of this movement. One of the many ways to get involved includes having conversations with girls and women of all ages about self-esteem. &lt;strong&gt;One conversation starter is, What do you wish you'd known at 13?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could talk to my 13 year old self, I would tell myself to never hold back who I really am to try to fit in. In the real world, how popular you are in high school means NOTHING. I would tell myself that as it turns out, ALL 13 year olds have the same worries and insecurities as me, and although things may get harder before they get easier, I WILL look back at my teenage years and laugh at how silly it all seems now. And oh yeah, I would tell myself to stop liking that boy that doesn't give me the time of day, because he is NOT worth one second of my time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So, what do  you wish you'd known at 13? Please leave a comment, I'd love to know!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a link to find some more &lt;a href="http://www.dovemovement.com/en-us/events/toolkit"&gt;conversation starters and activities&lt;/a&gt; that you can do with an important female in your life, whether it be your daughter, niece, sister, or friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the &lt;a href="http://www.dovemovement.com/en-us/events/toolkit"&gt;Dove Self-Esteem Movement website &lt;/a&gt;,you can find more information about their Dove Self-Esteem Weekend, October 22-24. Please check it out. You can make such a difference in a girl's life by just taking out a little bit of time each day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-9138056568719065783?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Eac1rYrVokgBbYF9gOgY1_Z6Mic/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Eac1rYrVokgBbYF9gOgY1_Z6Mic/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/ahgQRqskJbk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/9138056568719065783/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/what-do-you-wish-youd-known-at-13.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/9138056568719065783?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/9138056568719065783?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/ahgQRqskJbk/what-do-you-wish-youd-known-at-13.html" title="What Do You Wish You'd Known at 13?" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/what-do-you-wish-youd-known-at-13.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4BQ3YzcCp7ImA9Wx5WEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-4105392253282343946</id><published>2010-09-23T20:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T21:15:52.888-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-23T21:15:52.888-04:00</app:edited><title>Oopsie</title><content type="html">Recently, I blogged about how saddened I am by people's lack of manners. Particularly in scenarios when I am trying to squeeze through a door with a stroller and twenty other things. All I ask is for a simple door hold! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday Aubrey and I went to the mall to find me something cute to wear for my big birthday night out this weekend. As we were approaching the entrance to Macy's, I noticed a little old lady waiting by the curb. Surely, I did not expect her to hold the door open for us. To be honest, I don't think she could have made it to the door without some help herself. She gets a free pass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I did expect the young man I saw standing on the other side of the doors to help me out. As I got closer to the doors, I noticed he wasn't making any effort to approach the door and hold it open for me. I thought to myself, "Typical. He's just standing there waiting for someone and he can't take two steps towards the door and open it for a woman with a stroller?  I know he's young and able because he's dressed young and stylish. Oh well, I will just open the doors myself and make sure I give him a 'Thanks a lot, buddy' look once we get in the store."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I pulled Aubrey's stroller through the second set of doors, I glanced up to get a look at the guy who couldn't help a momma out. Yeeeeah, there was a pretty good reason why he didn't help me...he was a mannequin. Oops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-4105392253282343946?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IxK18xolWrBA4fjw2xr0ZmeoPLw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IxK18xolWrBA4fjw2xr0ZmeoPLw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/Ia4rqRvaZ-s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/4105392253282343946/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/oopsie.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/4105392253282343946?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/4105392253282343946?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/Ia4rqRvaZ-s/oopsie.html" title="Oopsie" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/oopsie.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQCQng4fCp7ImA9Wx5WEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-9079529683468818142</id><published>2010-09-22T11:39:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T12:19:23.634-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-22T12:19:23.634-04:00</app:edited><title>I Wish I was 7  Months Pregnant Right Now</title><content type="html">But totally not for any of the reasons you are probably thinking. I'm definitely not ready for another baby, and I certainly don't miss the giant belly that prohibited me from doing simple tasks like bending over, sleeping, and even breathing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I wish I was pregnant because I had the cutest maternity clothes last year!  And since I was working, I had a great mix of stylish, trendy, and fashionable clothes. Not to mention comfortable...elastic waistbands on jeans? Who knew they'd be so cozy, yet look so chic! From leggings and tunics to adorable dresses with flats, I was dressed to the nines. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, now that it's fall and I'm taking inventory of what I have to work with this year, I am left looking at a depleted wardrobe of "regular sized" clothes that hasn't been replenished since 2008. All of the lovely clothes I bought last year were for a woman who was working full time and was 6-9 months pregnant.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I am low on funds this year and not working full time, I don't really have a NEED to go out and buy a new wardrobe like I've done every year in the past. I'm sure I'll pick up a few new things here and there, but I am pretty much stuck with what I've got (Aubrey, on the other hand, will be decked out in the latest baby fashions!). So, as I disappointedly look at the tired, worn out clothes from my '08 fall wardrobe which will also sadly be my '10 fall wardrobe, I find myself wishing that I was 7 months pregnant again...but just for the clothes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-9079529683468818142?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HwkZBbcDwtEp5QzF4pVX_9aBXKc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HwkZBbcDwtEp5QzF4pVX_9aBXKc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/DlRY1ztHgv4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/9079529683468818142/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/i-wish-i-was-7-months-pregnant-right.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/9079529683468818142?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/9079529683468818142?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/DlRY1ztHgv4/i-wish-i-was-7-months-pregnant-right.html" title="I Wish I was 7  Months Pregnant Right Now" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/i-wish-i-was-7-months-pregnant-right.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QCQX48fCp7ImA9Wx5XEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-7163231771214191821</id><published>2010-09-10T10:47:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T16:09:20.074-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-10T16:09:20.074-04:00</app:edited><title>Why do We Bother Buying Toys?</title><content type="html">I KNOW I'm not alone when I say that Aubrey would much rather play with household items than with her clean, bright, child safe, developmentally appropriate toys. However, I still get lured into buying a new toy in the store because I think to myself, "THIS WILL BE THE ONE! This will be the toy that Aubrey loves so much that she will actually prefer it over the dog's food bowl!" Usually she does love the toy. But the love affair lasts about 1 minute 30 seconds and then it's back to the dog bowls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are Aubrey's favorite "toys":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Dog bowls&lt;br /&gt;2. Electrical cords&lt;br /&gt;3. Magazines (that she loves to tear into pieces)&lt;br /&gt;4. Anything on a shelf that can be pulled off. This includes (but is not limited to) lamps, picture frames, photo albums, and cans of open soda. &lt;br /&gt;5. Pillows...that she likes to bury her face and drool in. &lt;br /&gt;6. The glass sliding door and everything dangerous that comes with it.&lt;br /&gt;7. Spatulas&lt;br /&gt;8. Electrical cords. Yes, I know I already said this one. But she goes after so many cords in any given day that I thought it warranted two spots on the list.&lt;br /&gt;9. Strings, tags, ties, etc.&lt;br /&gt;10. Shoes/flip flops. As in she likes to flip them over and lick the sole before I notice. &lt;br /&gt;11. Remote controls. Her favorite thing to do is hold down the volume up button and let the tv get extraordinary loud. &lt;br /&gt;12. Laundry that has already been folded. Meaning that she likes to "de-fold" the laundry for me. Aw, mommy's little "helper" :) &lt;br /&gt;13. KEYS. She turns into a 2 year old and throws a temper tantrum when I take them away from her.&lt;br /&gt;14. Sunglasses. She refuses to wear them, but she likes to rip mine off my face and threaten to poke her eyes out with them. &lt;br /&gt;15. Playing cards. She hasn't mastered poker yet, but she has mastered bending/chewing on every card in the deck. Although, the cards are pretty sturdy and they keep her entertained for quite a while!&lt;br /&gt;16. The dog's dirty, slimy toys. Poor dog--she actually waits when Aubrey picks up her bone, thinking that Aubrey is going to toss it to her!&lt;br /&gt;17. Insert any other thing in the house she shouldn't be playing with here. If it's off limits, she wants it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-7163231771214191821?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4jpyvKeG5HzQRaLrw4asv-SFrQM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4jpyvKeG5HzQRaLrw4asv-SFrQM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/0aNhlKYk9Y0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/7163231771214191821/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/why-do-we-bother-buying-toys.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/7163231771214191821?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/7163231771214191821?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/0aNhlKYk9Y0/why-do-we-bother-buying-toys.html" title="Why do We Bother Buying Toys?" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/why-do-we-bother-buying-toys.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMERXwyfyp7ImA9Wx5XFk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-4000033322537712016</id><published>2010-09-08T21:04:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T22:16:44.297-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-15T22:16:44.297-04:00</app:edited><title>Quote Time!</title><content type="html">When I was in college, I was the queen of quotes. Anyone who had me on their AIM buddy list can attest to that. My AIM profile and away message were filled with quotes regarding whatever drama was going on in my life during that particular hour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I came across a quote I liked, I typed it up on a file that I appropriately named, "Quotes". I recently came across a hard copy of these quotes and it was pretty fun to revisit my college days through quotes from various people such as Cher, Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Woody Allen, Katherine Hepburn, even a quote from Gilmore Girls (loved that show back then!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It got me thinking to look up some parenting quotes, just for fun. Here are some of my favorite parenting quotes that I came across. Some I can relate to, some I can understand how others can relate to, and some are just plain old funny :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It is not a bad thing that children should occasionally, and politely, put parents in their place.” -Sidonie Gabrielle Colette. Amen sister...especially when the "children" are adults!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I've noticed that one thing about parents is that no matter what stage your child is in, the parents who have older children always tell you the next stage is worse.” -Dave Barry. I can TOTALLY relate to this one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All good qualities in a child are the result of environment, while all the bad ones are the result of poor heredity on the side of the other parent” -Elinor Smith. You mean this isn't a legitimate way of thinking...??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Parents who are afraid to put their foot down usually have children who step on their toes” -Chinese Proverb. I will recite this mantra continuously during Aubrey's teenage years...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Listening to parents' advice is sort of like watching commercials. You know what's coming, you've heard it all before, it's a big bore, but you listen anyway”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The real menace in dealing with a five year old is that in no time at all you begin to sound like a five year old." Jean Kerr. I can relate to this from when I taught 1st graders. My vocabulary shifted from pretty good, to using words that had 4 letters or less.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Parents are not interested in justice, they're interested in peace and quiet."  Bill Cosby. And I can relate to this one from when I taught middle-schoolers. Many of times I would find myself saying, "I don't care what she said, this happens every day with you two! Sit down and do your work!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you enjoyed the quotes. I could've added so many more, but it's fastly approaching 10pm and I am exhausted!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-4000033322537712016?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5R48B-ESfC91f-FEi-z02ZJf4og/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/5R48B-ESfC91f-FEi-z02ZJf4og/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/fCc7sHDUkG8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/4000033322537712016/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/quote-time.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/4000033322537712016?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/4000033322537712016?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/fCc7sHDUkG8/quote-time.html" title="Quote Time!" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/quote-time.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUDQXg5eSp7ImA9Wx5QGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-7350487515950370822</id><published>2010-09-07T20:42:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T10:47:50.621-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-08T10:47:50.621-04:00</app:edited><title>Would it Really be so Bad if Aubrey Just Drank Formula for the Rest of Her Life?</title><content type="html">Well, according to &lt;a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/gossip/2010/08/02/2010-08-02_gisele_bundchen_says_there_should_be_a_worldwide_law_forcing_mothers_to_breastfe.html?obref=obinsite"&gt;Giselle Bundchen&lt;/a&gt;, I've already poisoned my child for life by feeding her formula. But that's for another day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I've been giving Aubrey more and more finger food. I started out just giving her the Gerber Graduates, but as of late I've been venturing into more &lt;strike&gt;dangerous&lt;/strike&gt; exciting things like fruit, veggies, pasta noodles, etc.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS IS THE SCARIEST PART OF MOTHERHOOD YET! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time that girl puts something in her mouth, I can't help but intently stare at her in fear that she may choke. Perhaps this fear stems from when my mom insisted Aubrey could eat a Cheerio and she CHOKED on it. As in she wasn't making noise, mouth wide open, eyes popping out of her head, CHOKING. In my mom's defense, she did know to flip Aubrey over and hit her back to make the Cheerio fall out. Nonetheless, I have been traumatized by this! Nothing personal, Mom :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, even with the foods that "dissolve" in the mouth or that I chop in pieces so small that Aubrey can't even pick them up, I still worry she will choke. It doesn't help that she often makes funny noises when tasting or swallowing them. Of course this sends me straight into my paranoia.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying not to project my fear of choking onto Aubrey, so I give her finger foods daily. The girl's got to learn how to eat! As much as it would be easier on me to have her drink from a bottle for the rest of her life, I don't think she'd make it very far if she whipped out a bottle of formula during a business meeting... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TIbf8xEjCPI/AAAAAAAAAbE/yxFRbRt3l4I/s1600/baby+bottle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TIbf8xEjCPI/AAAAAAAAAbE/yxFRbRt3l4I/s320/baby+bottle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514341028819306738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-7350487515950370822?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0KOGAjOn6hhLh2-mxLaaclW6IFQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0KOGAjOn6hhLh2-mxLaaclW6IFQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/7nJoQEKzy4E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/7350487515950370822/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/would-it-really-be-so-bad-if-aubrey.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/7350487515950370822?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/7350487515950370822?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/7nJoQEKzy4E/would-it-really-be-so-bad-if-aubrey.html" title="Would it Really be so Bad if Aubrey Just Drank Formula for the Rest of Her Life?" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TIbf8xEjCPI/AAAAAAAAAbE/yxFRbRt3l4I/s72-c/baby+bottle.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/would-it-really-be-so-bad-if-aubrey.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIBRXc9eip7ImA9Wx5QFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1825834019343611781.post-9007541893747401470</id><published>2010-09-03T14:45:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-03T20:02:34.962-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-03T20:02:34.962-04:00</app:edited><title>Buying Pregnancy Tests...Justified Phobia or Just Paranoid?</title><content type="html">You would think the pregnancy test walk of shame would only happen to teenage girls or single 20somethings. But for some reason, buying a pregnancy test has always made me more self-conscious than a 12 year old at their first dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never felt comfortable buying a pregnancy test. Ever. Even as a married woman who was actively trying to have a baby, I felt so secretive carrying my pregnancy test up to the counter. I would usually pick up some other things on the way up the counter to conceal what I was really there to buy. So not only was I spending a fortune on a pregnancy test, I was also racking up the bill with a bunch of crap that I didn't need--like extra kitchen sponges and a bag of Reese’s. Then I would go crazy thinking to myself why I picked up random items like sponges and chocolate...was I nesting?! Was I having cravings?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the reason I always felt so awkward buying pregnancy tests, was because I had always associated pregnancy tests with people taking them in hopes of NOT being pregnant! I always felt like the other customers in the store or the check-out person were looking at me thinking, "Ohhh, she was careless and now she might be pregnant. Shame on her!" And this is the reason why I relate my pregnancy test phobia to a 12 year old at their first dance. It's one of those situations where you swear everyone is looking at you and making judgments, when in reality they weren't even looking at you in the first place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, my mom is a nurse and has informed to never waste money on a pregnancy test again because she has them at work. Hallelujah! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer:  The content of this post was solely written based on previous experiences occurring prior to April 2009. The author of this post is not currently purchasing pregnancy tests nor trying to have a baby.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Don't you lie to me, I know I saw you slip a pregnancy test in that cart!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TIGKrgpv-bI/AAAAAAAAAa8/hzAISP2Vvsk/s1600/3203491-two-women-talking-to-each-other-at-a-grocery-store.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TIGKrgpv-bI/AAAAAAAAAa8/hzAISP2Vvsk/s320/3203491-two-women-talking-to-each-other-at-a-grocery-store.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512839898982250930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1825834019343611781-9007541893747401470?l=www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/r1GtcQQVa_Prmde4gdoWngeEMjc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/r1GtcQQVa_Prmde4gdoWngeEMjc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~4/xVXkDkc7G8w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/feeds/9007541893747401470/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/buying-pregnancy-testsjustified-phobia.html#comment-form" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/9007541893747401470?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1825834019343611781/posts/default/9007541893747401470?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/HelloSneakersGoodbyeHeels/~3/xVXkDkc7G8w/buying-pregnancy-testsjustified-phobia.html" title="Buying Pregnancy Tests...Justified Phobia or Just Paranoid?" /><author><name>The Journey of 30</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="18" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mmziVSQFNt8/TmZty3voJxI/AAAAAAAAAkE/tRWMXAb2fHg/s220/niteout.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l1UBaCEP6cQ/TIGKrgpv-bI/AAAAAAAAAa8/hzAISP2Vvsk/s72-c/3203491-two-women-talking-to-each-other-at-a-grocery-store.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://www.hellosneakersgoodbyeheels.com/2010/09/buying-pregnancy-testsjustified-phobia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

