<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?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" gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMFRHY_eip7ImA9WhRUGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657</id><updated>2012-01-30T08:23:35.842-06:00</updated><category term="pool" /><category term="animals" /><category term="Sterling" /><category term="Ginger" /><category term="children" /><category term="portrait" /><category term="vacation" /><category term="baking" /><category term="family" /><category term="Winter" /><category term="garden" /><category term="Recipes" /><category term="landscape" /><category term="adoption" /><category term="Josh" /><title>Life of a "non-working" mother</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>786</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/LifeOfAnon-workingMother" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="lifeofanon-workingmother" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cMQHwzeip7ImA9WhRUGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-1065281232858277797</id><published>2012-01-29T19:34:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T20:04:41.282-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T20:04:41.282-06:00</app:edited><title>Family time</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;Somehow I've never really blogged about my parents' breakup, maybe because it's too hard to put into words how I feel about the whole thing. My sister Wendy explained it pretty well on her blog. They have been divorced for a a year now, and both moved on and found new people. This weekend my mom tied the knot with Roger in Salt Lake. I was glad to be able to actually be there, being 36 weeks pregnant and all. If we lived pretty much anywhere else in the world, I would have had to miss it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love my sisters. Especially when I get to spend time with them. Wendy and family drove down from Boise Idaho, and Emma flew in from Holland for the wedding. Emma and I got to do some shopping on Friday at the outlet mall. Friday night we had a get together and dinner for Majo and Roger, and we met our new stepfamily. It's really strange to think we immediately have a large branch of people that are now kind of like family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday was the big day, and they got sealed at the Bountiful temple.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2lmkwES_jSs/TyX26U5SSeI/AAAAAAAAEFA/a35IKPuVZo0/s400/IMG_9118.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703235985036429794" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A1QOM2bvr_Y/TyX26mTaDYI/AAAAAAAAEFM/_ZvFEWBZvJM/s400/IMG_9110.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703235989709393282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7GrL_4p33Mw/TyX27De491I/AAAAAAAAEFY/h3638BElL2E/s400/IMG_9089.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703235997542184786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0h2J4VroJ4Y/TyX28t3TDnI/AAAAAAAAEFk/C_YLolr43to/s400/IMG_9083.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703236026098716274" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_nAQfoMnTls/TyX4FrnL-hI/AAAAAAAAEGU/1ge2kNlLiqo/s1600/IMG_9162.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_nAQfoMnTls/TyX4FrnL-hI/AAAAAAAAEGU/1ge2kNlLiqo/s1600/IMG_9162.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3bhqT3RXyS8/TyX4GDioQKI/AAAAAAAAEGg/qaGvuWXWwnc/s1600/IMG_9156.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3bhqT3RXyS8/TyX4GDioQKI/AAAAAAAAEGg/qaGvuWXWwnc/s1600/IMG_9156.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My favorite part about spending time with my sisters are the downtimes just hanging out. Just chatting about any- and everything. It's being so comfortable with each other that you never have an awkward silence moment. It's being able to completely be yourself, and know they understand. They "get" me. And I "get" them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3bhqT3RXyS8/TyX4GDioQKI/AAAAAAAAEGg/qaGvuWXWwnc/s400/IMG_9156.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703237286048055458" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;An added plus: the cousins are spending quality time getting to know each other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jjQWht7CG_w/TyX4GpsO1hI/AAAAAAAAEGs/Mcf91rvzWlA/s1600/IMG_9140.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jjQWht7CG_w/TyX4GpsO1hI/AAAAAAAAEGs/Mcf91rvzWlA/s400/IMG_9140.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703237296288880146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And enjoying the snow.&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_nAQfoMnTls/TyX4FrnL-hI/AAAAAAAAEGU/1ge2kNlLiqo/s1600/IMG_9162.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_nAQfoMnTls/TyX4FrnL-hI/AAAAAAAAEGU/1ge2kNlLiqo/s400/IMG_9162.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703237279624722962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4lvOI48o_fE/TyX4FUMgGbI/AAAAAAAAEGI/w9JJ3WsPv-0/s1600/IMG_9171.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4lvOI48o_fE/TyX4FUMgGbI/AAAAAAAAEGI/w9JJ3WsPv-0/s400/IMG_9171.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703237273338780082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm nearing week 37 of this pregnancy. I kind of feel huge, but not at the same time (not sure if that makes sense). But then I see pictures of myself, and realize I really AM huge.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IbyxbkTGT74/TyX4E8ZfzgI/AAAAAAAAEF8/ZhN8voBGkZk/s1600/IMG_9177.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IbyxbkTGT74/TyX4E8ZfzgI/AAAAAAAAEF8/ZhN8voBGkZk/s400/IMG_9177.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703237266950835714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HCez5GEE4Xo/TyX29hXPtLI/AAAAAAAAEFw/dq7X3tsGAR8/s1600/IMG_9186.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HCez5GEE4Xo/TyX29hXPtLI/AAAAAAAAEFw/dq7X3tsGAR8/s400/IMG_9186.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703236039922922674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-1065281232858277797?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/1065281232858277797/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=1065281232858277797&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1065281232858277797?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1065281232858277797?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2012/01/family-time.html" title="Family time" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2lmkwES_jSs/TyX26U5SSeI/AAAAAAAAEFA/a35IKPuVZo0/s72-c/IMG_9118.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QERHcyeSp7ImA9WhRUFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-6289381378042817415</id><published>2012-01-25T13:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T13:21:45.991-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-25T13:21:45.991-06:00</app:edited><title>Nearing the end, and a new beginning</title><content type="html">As the weeks count down, I know this baby will come soon. My body is ready. My mind is ready. But am I emotionally ready? It seems like eons ago that Ginger was a tiny baby. Part of me worries I won't remember how to do things right. I worry that I'm underestimating the amount of work this new baby will bring. The countless hours of sleep I will miss. Of course, this is probably nature's way of protecting us. Enabling to grow our families. Because once this sweet baby is here, I'm sure all those things become a mute point. What will be important is the soft baby cheeks, and little gurgles. The love we instantly develop for our little ones. And a feeling that we could never imagine not having this baby as part of our family.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Part of my worries are because of my lack of preparedness. There are many things I'm getting from friends and family including a cradle, crib, car seat, some clothes, and swing. The only thing I seem to have gotten (almost) ready are the diapers. Some more inserts need to be made, as well as cloth wipes. and diaper pail liners. But I'm afraid since I'm still lacking a lot of things. Like burp cloths, binkies, blankets, sheets, clothes, onesies, socks etc etc. Of course nothing bad will happen if I don't have any of those items. The baby will still come, and he will be fine. And most of it will be solved with a trip or two to the consignment kids clothing store. So I try to set my worries aside, and just make a list. A shopping list, so I can stop worrying, and start shopping.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-6289381378042817415?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/6289381378042817415/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=6289381378042817415&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/6289381378042817415?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/6289381378042817415?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2012/01/nearing-end-and-new-beginning.html" title="Nearing the end, and a new beginning" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMERXk4eyp7ImA9WhRUEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-2782840201968720981</id><published>2012-01-21T18:19:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T18:33:24.733-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-21T18:33:24.733-06:00</app:edited><title>REAL snow</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;This is the kind of snow I've been waiting for. The kind of snow from movies. The type that has big white fluffy flakes that stick to everything. The stuff that gets bad drivers stuck in ditches.&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-shLP6a6chfk/TxtYIbrja_I/AAAAAAAAEDw/TTWL4boVCvQ/s400/IMG_1274.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700246655260126194" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today the kids had snowboarding lessons again, otherwise we probably wouldn't have headed out in this wonderful snow blizzard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SAbCOJ50xMY/TxtYH-5JqFI/AAAAAAAAEDk/7qhR7McdpPU/s1600/IMG_1275.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SAbCOJ50xMY/TxtYH-5JqFI/AAAAAAAAEDk/7qhR7McdpPU/s400/IMG_1275.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700246647532529746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We threw a few sets of chains from our landlord in the van and headed out. The drive was slow, but our relatively new tires and FWD did a great job of getting us where we needed to be.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After some less-than-successful lessons (because of the powder), the parking lot was a disaster. Both set of chains didn't actually fit the van, so I felt a little nervous without a backup plan. Again, we saw many people spin out and getting stuck, but Joe's professional driving got us out of there without a problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qBJ6rD0_qcs/TxtYHaQZkmI/AAAAAAAAEDY/eaMEOjCIbkY/s1600/IMG_1276.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qBJ6rD0_qcs/TxtYHaQZkmI/AAAAAAAAEDY/eaMEOjCIbkY/s400/IMG_1276.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700246637697929826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The scariest part of snow like this, are the idiot drivers on the road with us. They think that just because they have a big 4x4 truck, they can race past everyone at 60 miles per hour. Not that their 4x4's will do them any good if they try to stop!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1MnFxfxQGmY/TxtYHUagYzI/AAAAAAAAEDM/7k-ywleNdU8/s400/IMG_1277.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700246636129706802" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We made it up the hill, and all the way home. Our clothes are all hung up and drying, and my slippers feel snuggly warm on my feet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-2782840201968720981?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/2782840201968720981/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=2782840201968720981&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2782840201968720981?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2782840201968720981?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2012/01/real-snow.html" title="REAL snow" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-shLP6a6chfk/TxtYIbrja_I/AAAAAAAAEDw/TTWL4boVCvQ/s72-c/IMG_1274.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EGSX48eyp7ImA9WhRVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-6924030354379850285</id><published>2012-01-14T20:25:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-14T20:47:08.073-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-14T20:47:08.073-06:00</app:edited><title>Mountains</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I love mountains. They are good for so many things.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pretty to look at.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fun to camp in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perfect for mountain biking, hiking, rock climbing in the summer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And of course skiing/snowboarding in the winter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's maybe funny how attached I've become to mountains, considering that I grew up in one of the flattest places on earth. Throughout my childhood we did vacation in Switzerland a lot, which was my favorite place to go. I didn't live by mountains until I went to BYU, but ever since, it just seems wrong not to live by them. Missing the outdoors (and of course scorching heat) was the biggest downside to living in Texas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mountains are a huge part of the reason Joe and I chose Midway Utah to settle down in. We love living less than 15 minutes from all those activities we love. We also love living by a large city that provides all our other needs. Heber is just 10 minutes away, and has most stores I regularly use.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although this winter has been very dry, the ski resorts can make their own snow. I've been so excited for my kids to be able to learn to snowboard! As a child we went on a ski vacation every other year, and it's just one of those things.... I loved. The local ski resorts have special programs for locals, so when I found out that Park City Mountain Resort has a 5 session deal for beginners, I didn't hesitate to sign up my kids. They are all old enough to start, and young enough to really make this part of their lives.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Getting onto the mountain, with all the gear, was a challenge. Getting 3 kids fitted for boots and snowboards and helmets can be a bit overwhelming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p-C9eCEn-S0/TxI8Yi_89XI/AAAAAAAAECk/cMmPrLQaJgQ/s400/IMG_8991.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697682870986667378" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;By the time we walked onto the snow, both Joe and I had had our patience tested to the max. This is where it was nice to hand them over to ski instructors.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WWPfR6ztR5U/TxI9nav8gJI/AAAAAAAAECw/gz5sxDGGhVY/s400/IMG_8996.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697684225981710482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /&gt;Winter and Sterling were in a class together. Ginger was in her own class, and had a few of her stubborn moments. She is very opinionated, and will make up her mind in a flash. I guess she had decided it was too hard to snowboard, and was ready to quit. Joe jumped in, and for the next 3 hours, she went from crying and dead set against it, to bragging how good she was and wanting to do a few more runs. I bet after just a few more lessons she'll lean more towards the bragging side :)&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YADc29Uz_AQ/TxI9n7KoTaI/AAAAAAAAEDA/roW4WYvVua4/s400/IMG_9004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697684234683567522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5Mp9klxDO-I/TxI8XG_z9pI/AAAAAAAAECA/QEvfU8odEkw/s400/IMG_9006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697682846290015890" /&gt;Joe couldn't help but mess around on Ginger's snowboard a bit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N8_cMhGt5mE/TxI8XREHp8I/AAAAAAAAECQ/48RyZJNxF24/s1600/IMG_9002.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N8_cMhGt5mE/TxI8XREHp8I/AAAAAAAAECQ/48RyZJNxF24/s400/IMG_9002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697682848992438210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-6924030354379850285?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/6924030354379850285/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=6924030354379850285&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/6924030354379850285?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/6924030354379850285?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2012/01/mountains.html" title="Mountains" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p-C9eCEn-S0/TxI8Yi_89XI/AAAAAAAAECk/cMmPrLQaJgQ/s72-c/IMG_8991.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAAQHk8cSp7ImA9WhRVE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-4336369229382372214</id><published>2012-01-11T18:49:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T19:12:21.779-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-11T19:12:21.779-06:00</app:edited><title>Death by brown</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We have real internet again, and I'm happy to start out my time on it with this post. Do you ever realize how much a space influences your mood? If it's clean and bright, your spirit becomes happy and bright?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Well, our apartment suffered from "Death by brown". Much of my furniture is brown (wood) including 2 cigar chairs, couch, coffee table, and large chest. These are also not the type of pieces that can/should be painted or slipcovered. In addition to the brown furniture, this apartment came equipped with some not-so-lovely brown paneling. I'm sure it's been here since the 70s. Combine all these brown things with a lack of windows, lights, and an overhang from the upstairs, and you get somewhat of a cave.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i6hVp252qyo/Tw4v3o9cpoI/AAAAAAAAEBo/bjMyPCCOFz0/s400/IMG_1266.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696543211604715138" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;After a few hours of painting, I think it's safe to say the new look is a 1000 times better!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3cTfGMqdouU/Tw4v2zi9d6I/AAAAAAAAEBc/x0gw5rXDBG0/s400/IMG_1268.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696543197266540450" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I might actually be able to live here for more than 2 months!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IHlUhhMG2v0/Tw4v2nizlAI/AAAAAAAAEBQ/9xWcG1AYu54/s400/IMG_1270.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696543194044666882" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /&gt;&lt;div&gt;You think they'll let me paint the rock wall wood stove mantel next? Ginger thought it was suitable for rock climbing on!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2Sdb5nE-J7w/Tw4zN3cy2uI/AAAAAAAAEB0/iGb71Q8nU1U/s400/IMG_1271.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696546891986295522" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-4336369229382372214?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/4336369229382372214/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=4336369229382372214&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/4336369229382372214?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/4336369229382372214?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2012/01/death-by-brown.html" title="Death by brown" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i6hVp252qyo/Tw4v3o9cpoI/AAAAAAAAEBo/bjMyPCCOFz0/s72-c/IMG_1266.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cDQXw6eyp7ImA9WhRVEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-3221990164205411556</id><published>2012-01-10T18:17:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T18:17:50.213-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-10T18:17:50.213-06:00</app:edited><title>Be positive!</title><content type="html">I ironed today. Those who know me, know what a rare occasion this is. I also got a UT license, went to the bank, grocery store, helped with homework, did dishes, and took care of some administrarive stuff. But. If you ask me tomorrow what I'v accomplished, there's a good change I can only remember the things that haven't been done, or that I failed at. The mountain of clean clothes that still takes over my bed. Or the whiny kids I want to send to time-out for the rest of the day. Or the photos I still need to edit for My sil.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And my feelings about it can change by the minute. Depending on the amount of noise around me. Or the amount of children tattling or crying. A few minutes ago I was feeling great after ironing 4 shirts, but then I saw my remaining to-do list, trying not to snap at Sterling who is crying over lost Lego instructions, and energy deficiency to cook dinner.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh, I try to focus on the positive! Sometimes it's just hard&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-3221990164205411556?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/3221990164205411556/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=3221990164205411556&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/3221990164205411556?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/3221990164205411556?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2012/01/be-positive.html" title="Be positive!" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcGQ304eip7ImA9WhRVEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-2503823622136010703</id><published>2012-01-08T19:52:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-08T19:53:42.332-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-08T19:53:42.332-06:00</app:edited><title>Life is fragile</title><content type="html">Life is fragile. My friend Lisa had us over for dinner less than a week ago. Thursday night her and her family with 4 little kids were siting in our famy room chatting and laughing. The very next morning she got a phone call from her doctor that will change her life forever. An MRI showed a large tumor in her brain. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I've known people with brain tumors including my own mom, but it has bever hit so hard as this time. Lisa is so young and healthy! She has 4 kids under age five. This solidified that this could happen to anyone. Including me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It also helps me to appreciate modern medicine. Just 2 days after the diagnosis she has had surgery to have the tumor removed. We have prayed and fasted, and realize that our fate ultimately lies in God's hands, but prayer is very powerful. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-2503823622136010703?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/2503823622136010703/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=2503823622136010703&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2503823622136010703?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2503823622136010703?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2012/01/life-is-fragile.html" title="Life is fragile" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIMQXs6eyp7ImA9WhRWF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-8275155302538082093</id><published>2012-01-04T14:23:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T14:23:00.513-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-04T14:23:00.513-06:00</app:edited><title>Midway, UT</title><content type="html">Being without internet has put a damper on my ability to blog, but after the itch to blog for a few days, I decided to investigate alternative methods of posting. As the proud new owner of Joe's old jailbroken iphone, I can access the internet by phone. Typing is a little bit tricky, but doable.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We survived the ridiculously long drive, and even the first few days of unpacking. We have been amazed by emormous size of our new ward, and felt welcomed into Midway by the Calderwoods as well as the principle of the school who gave us a tour on his vacation day. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The kids started as Wranglers at Mideay elementary yesterday, and seem to be adjusting very well quickly. One of the strangest adjustments for me is having Ginger home with me in the morning. Both in Holland as well as in Texas she attended full day kindergarten, but many Utah schools still do half day, including Midway. This will be a good opportunity to spend some one-on-one time with her, to try and catch up on her reading skills. She was reading very well in Holland, which&lt;br /&gt;
means she is having a hard time switching to English. She is super smart though, so I'm not too worried about it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Midway itself is lovely. Unfortunately there is no snow yet, and it's very warm for this time of year, but we're gearing up for some snow time, and all the fun things that go along with it such as sledding, snowboarding and general snowplay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The apartment..... well.... It's an apartment.....  We are living in the basement of a fairly large house. There is adequate space (except for the lack of a garage or shop), but when we got here it was filthy. I don't care if the landlord tells me he shampood the carpets 4 times, when there is still a layer of dust and dog hairs along all the edges. It just makes it difficult to unpack and get settled when you first have to clean everything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I' so excited to be here, abd know we'll be here for many years. I can't wait to make new friends and get involved in the community. The hunt for a purchase home is on, and I guess I have time to get ready for this babuly to come too now  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-8275155302538082093?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/8275155302538082093/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=8275155302538082093&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/8275155302538082093?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/8275155302538082093?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2012/01/midway-ut.html" title="Midway, UT" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4FRn86cSp7ImA9WhRWEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-1078060985689901154</id><published>2011-12-27T19:37:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T19:48:37.119-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-27T19:48:37.119-06:00</app:edited><title>Packing</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We had a great Christmas, and right after that we jumped straight into packing for our move. Our things were stored all over the place: 4 different locations. Monday morning we picked up the U-haul (who knew they are so expensive?) and headed for the storage unit. It was actually quite pain-free to move the stuff from the unit to the truck, since everything was already packed up. Next we headed to Katie Morphis' house, who had our king bed frame, bookshelf, and my new table. This table is amazing! It goes from seating 4, to seating at least 16. Our next stop, my friend Tracey's house, who had the antique trunk and Joe's mountain bike. We were feeling pretty good about our accomplishments by 5pm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We took the night off, and headed to downtown Dallas for a last Benac pow-wow. 7 out of 9 kids were in town. There was plenty of yummy food, a fun wagon ride through Highland Park, swimming, and of course lots of fun cousin conversations.&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LiGDUSLv_O4/Tvp1MboaBTI/AAAAAAAAEA4/m-4znkBMBOI/s400/6579014137_d6572f9d8d_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690989935572157746" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rmK3xvjFWbM/Tvp1MbciNNI/AAAAAAAAEBE/Bxo4NUaIyGY/s400/6579018557_5596c238b6_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690989935522362578" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Today, we had to get back to work. Joe was thinking we wouldn't have much to do, but after a full 10 hour day of working, realized that packing up stuff from all over the house takes a lot of time. Plus, we had to pack all the nooks and crannies of the moving truck in order to fit everything. I'm glad we opted to get the 20' truck! All of our belongings except the harp and a few of Joe's tools are in the moving truck, and I can't help but be a little nervous about it getting stolen. Did I say ALL of our stuff is in there? That would NOT be good to have it stolen! Maybe Joe can disable something, so if someone tries to take the whole truck, it just won't start. Hopefully we can get an early start tomorrow morning, as we have about 12 hours of driving to do to Albuquerque. With only 1 cell phone, I hope we won't lose each other. I plan to drive a little bit ahead of Joe, since I'll have the dog who needs longer breaks, and of course I'll need more potty breaks too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-1078060985689901154?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/1078060985689901154/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=1078060985689901154&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1078060985689901154?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1078060985689901154?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/12/packing.html" title="Packing" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LiGDUSLv_O4/Tvp1MboaBTI/AAAAAAAAEA4/m-4znkBMBOI/s72-c/6579014137_d6572f9d8d_o.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkUFQXw9cCp7ImA9WhRXF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-4104200182759344979</id><published>2011-12-24T09:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T09:23:30.268-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-24T09:23:30.268-06:00</app:edited><title>Projects</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We decided to go with the security. And it feels great! Joe starts as the facility manager at the University of Utah on January 3rd. We also found a basement to rent in Midway. It's a typical rental house with hideous bathroom and all, but since it will be temporary I'm not too worried about it. The best things is that Midway only has 1 elementary school, so even if we move across town, the kids won't have to start all over making new friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BLir8iEAh-8/TvXuR__ywUI/AAAAAAAAEAs/OUx61rshNhs/s400/photo-25.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689715697256677698" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d1LvBfC_PMk/TvXuJYUdf-I/AAAAAAAAEAY/8KMMPCdatSs/s400/photo-23.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5689715549166993378" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The past week has been a week of projects. I started sewing cloth diapers, and just as I was getting into the thick of it, I bought a bunch of furniture from a barn. It must have been sitting there for years. I bought Katie Morphises dining room table which can expand to about 15 feet, but which didn't come with any chairs. So as I was looking on Craigslist, I found this barn. The dining chairs aren't exactly my style, but for $5 a piece, beggars can't be choosers. The past few days have been spent scrubbing, fixing, and painting furniture. It's been a real blessing to have access to Earl's shop with all the needed supplies, and access to Joe's skills. After the projects are getting done, I plan to do a sort of tutorial/step-by-step  post.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course it's also almost Christmas. Everyone has been making gifts for each other, and going shopping. It's really fun now that the kids are old enough to actually think about what the other person might want, and then make something. Several of the kids have spent quality time with their grandpa in his woodshop. Others with their grandma and mom in the sewing room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-4104200182759344979?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/4104200182759344979/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=4104200182759344979&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/4104200182759344979?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/4104200182759344979?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/12/projects.html" title="Projects" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BLir8iEAh-8/TvXuR__ywUI/AAAAAAAAEAs/OUx61rshNhs/s72-c/photo-25.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0AMRno6eCp7ImA9WhRQGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-5283062065319054729</id><published>2011-12-14T07:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T07:36:27.410-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-14T07:36:27.410-06:00</app:edited><title>Not perfect yet...</title><content type="html">&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);   line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;The best thing has happened and we've pretty much got 2 job offers (we don't know how good yet). HOWEVER.... now the hard part is deciding which option is the best for our family&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);   line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Option 1: University facilities manager.&lt;br /&gt;positives: stability, great benefits&lt;br /&gt;negatives: stay in Facilities field, limited opportunity for salary raise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Option 2: Consultant company&lt;br /&gt;positives: potential to make a lot of money, Joe loves consulting and would love to make a career switch, work from home 2-3 days a week&lt;br /&gt;negatives: risk making very little money the first year, high working hours (60),  no benefits whatsoever,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's what we have to figure out in a nutshell. It's so difficult! The normal Jessica wants to just go with UofU and have that security. But I also realize that IF Joe is successful with the consulting, he'll be much happier there in the long run.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-5283062065319054729?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/5283062065319054729/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=5283062065319054729&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/5283062065319054729?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/5283062065319054729?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/12/not-perfect-yet.html" title="Not perfect yet..." /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8MQnc9eip7ImA9WhRQFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-1804658723296474252</id><published>2011-12-11T16:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T16:51:23.962-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-11T16:51:23.962-06:00</app:edited><title>In my perfect world</title><content type="html">In my perfect world the following 3 weeks look as following:&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wednesday Joe gets 2 job offers. We pick the best one for our family.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Next weekend Joe goes back up to Midway to look at a few rental properties. We find a great house, through networking with our friends, and rent it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;December 19th Joe flies back to Texas and spends a week of vacation with me and the kids.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We celebrate Christmas in Texas.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A few days after Christmas we load up a moving truck, and drive to Utah.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We celebrate New Year's Eve in our new rental home.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;January 3rd the kids start their new school in Midway, and Joe starts his new job.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can visualize all of these great things happening!! Until the job offers come in, all we can do is wait and hope and pray. Pray with us!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-1804658723296474252?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/1804658723296474252/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=1804658723296474252&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1804658723296474252?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1804658723296474252?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/12/in-my-perfect-world.html" title="In my perfect world" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IEQHg7fSp7ImA9WhRQE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-2200999587586367450</id><published>2011-12-08T12:01:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T12:38:21.605-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-08T12:38:21.605-06:00</app:edited><title>Cloth diapers</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Really? cloth diapers (CD)? What image does that bring to your mind? Maybe the pre-fold and plastic covers your grandma used? Well, cloth diapers have come a long way since then, and I'm super excited to switch from disposables to cloth (with my other 3 kids I only used disposables).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i8TkLph-kv4/TuEDCCt2eNI/AAAAAAAAD_4/CDn6BZRO_bc/s400/clothdiapers.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683827538342082770" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first time I was really introduced to CD in their new shape, is a few years back when my friend Renee used them. The diapers looked so cute, and the process didn't seem too difficult. As I was perusing a &lt;a href="http://www.younghouselove.com/2010/08/the-much-requested-cloth-diaper-post/"&gt;home renovation blog&lt;/a&gt; the other day, she had a few posts about why she chose to use cloth. This put the idea back into my head, and I started researching.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I do research, it's hard to stop! Of course I initially found a few good brands of CD, but then quickly suffered from sticker shock. $250 for 12 diapers? Sure, that might save you money over disposables, but still! I think of myself as a pretty crafty seamstress, so my very next step was to look for good CD patterns. And of course which materials are best suited for CD. And where to buy those materials. Needless to say it was past midnight before I could tear myself from the computer, which was only after I bought all the supplies to get started. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the end I spent about $170 for the pattern, snaps, fabric, and elastic. This will make about 27 diapers. So instead of paying $21 per diaper, it comes to just a little over $6. I can live with $6 per diaper! Especially because the pattern in for a one-size diaper which should fit this baby (and any more to come) from 10-35lbs. It would probably take less than 6 months to spend $170 on disposables!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's what I bought&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pattern: &lt;a href="http://pamperedcheeks.com/ospattern.php?sbm2"&gt;One-size Cheekies&lt;/a&gt;  $13&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Waterproof outerlayer: &lt;a href="http://www.WAHMSUPPLY.COM/PUL-Fabric_c14.htm"&gt;PUL fabric&lt;/a&gt; $7.50/yd - 6 yards total in 3 different colors&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wicking innerlayer:&lt;a href="http://www.wahmsupply.com/White-Alova-Aloba-Suede-By-the-Yard-201.htm"&gt; Alova Suede&lt;/a&gt; $5.50/yd - 6 yards total&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Absorbent soakers: &lt;a href="http://www.wahmsupply.com/White-Micro-Fiber-Terry-By-the-Yard-203.htm"&gt;Microfiber terry&lt;/a&gt;: $9.95/yd - 2 yards total (they ran out of stock, or I would have bought 4 yards). Another option is to buy Microfiber cloths in the automotive department of a big box store. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kamsnaps.com/Pliers-for-Plastic-Snaps/Pliers-for-Plastic-Snaps-p308.html"&gt;Pliers&lt;/a&gt; for plastic snaps $22.95 --Buy one, get second for $2-- I will try to sell the second pair on Ebay and recoup some of that money&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;300 &lt;a href="http://www.kamsnaps.com/Plastic-Snaps/Standard-Long-Prong-Snaps/GLOSSY-Size-20-KAM-Plastic-Snaps-p197.html"&gt;Snaps&lt;/a&gt;: 3 different colors to match the PUL colors: $5/100 snaps&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Elastic: &lt;a href="http://www.wahmsupply.com/Braided-Elastic-3-8-White-By-the-Yard-248.htm"&gt;3/8" braided elastic&lt;/a&gt; $0.38/yd - 10 yards total (this is a guess, since I haven't actually received the pattern yet)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only additional supply I anticipate needing is thread, which I have tons of already. And of course a lot of time, which shouldn't be an issue either. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The hardest part of ordering online, is the waiting. You can't just bring it all home, and start immediately. Which is what I usually do when starting a new project. Maybe the waiting will be good for me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-2200999587586367450?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/2200999587586367450/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=2200999587586367450&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2200999587586367450?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2200999587586367450?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/12/cloth-diapers.html" title="Cloth diapers" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i8TkLph-kv4/TuEDCCt2eNI/AAAAAAAAD_4/CDn6BZRO_bc/s72-c/clothdiapers.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUCRncyfip7ImA9WhRQE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-8245718191917690342</id><published>2011-12-08T11:50:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T12:01:07.996-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-08T12:01:07.996-06:00</app:edited><title>Life altering decisions</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Weeks just fly by, and then I realize it's been forever since I blogged. Which seems impossible with the amount of time I spend on the computer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Joe is still in Utah, and interviewing for jobs. He had an interview with a consulting company that went well and he is very excited about. This is a big career switch, so there are a lot of uncertainties, but it also has a lot of potential. Then he is also interviewing with the University of Utah for a position that is more in-line with his pre-MBA career. We'll see how that one goes today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the same time as job searching, he bought himself a Jeep. And of course like all the Jeeps Joe has ever owned, this one needed some extensive work. Good thing he is so handy! When Angela put this photo on Facebook, it gave me flashbacks to the Boise days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UC2oHYZf4Q8/TuD53Vpd7HI/AAAAAAAAD_s/2nqVheAK6RU/s400/340735_10150431379903796_636253795_8351991_932388011_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683817458840759410" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;In the mean time the kids and I are settling into a routine at my in-laws house. The kids go to elementary school, and I try to take care of a few things while they do. The hardest thing I've dealt with is medicaid and WIC, but those are taken care of now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This coming month won't stay routine though, as it might include making a potentially career altering decisions, celebrate the Holidays, move across several states (hopefully not in snow), and settling into a new place. Although all of this is challenging, I'm excited about the prospect of finally settling into our own place, in our chosen location, before this baby comes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-8245718191917690342?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/8245718191917690342/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=8245718191917690342&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/8245718191917690342?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/8245718191917690342?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/12/life-altering-decisions.html" title="Life altering decisions" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UC2oHYZf4Q8/TuD53Vpd7HI/AAAAAAAAD_s/2nqVheAK6RU/s72-c/340735_10150431379903796_636253795_8351991_932388011_o.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8DQ304eSp7ImA9WhRRGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-1297986405702960349</id><published>2011-12-02T17:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T18:07:52.331-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-02T18:07:52.331-06:00</app:edited><title>Test your patience. I dare you!</title><content type="html">Anyone who has nothing to do, wants to be asked tons of questions, poked and prodded, and test their patience, should head to Parkland Hospital in Dallas and try to get a Rhogam shot. Sounds tempting? Maybe not after I walk you through such a day.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.45       &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Drive to Parkland in Rush hour traffic&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9.15                 check in without an appointment, settle into waiting room and read Twilight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10.15&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;   &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Register with a financial advisor and reapply for medicaid&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11.00&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Settle into waiting room, read some more Twilight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11.30&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Blood pressure check and urine sample&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11.35&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Settle back into waiting room, watch Charlie and the chocolate factory&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.10&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Assigned a room, and handed a paper gown to put on&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.15&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Told to put clothes back on&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.20&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Go over medical background with "Educator" who said some strange things that &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;would scare any pregnant lady who didn't know any better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of the things that came out of his mouth:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Be careful when you walk, if you fall your baby could die"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Don't eat any fish or seafood while pregnant. Autistic kids have mercury in their brain, and we don't know for sure how much mercury is in sea food. Just don't eat any while you're pregnant"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Drink 8 cups a day, but only a sip at a time. If you drink too fast, you can throw up"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He also gave me plenty of scaring literature, which included a ridiculous list of "don't eat" foods. I've never met anybody who harmed their baby by eating soft cheeses or hot dogs!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's so much I could say about how wrong these statements were, but instead I just nodded my head, and said okay. This was also I would have to head back home to be there in time for the kids to get back after school, and I still hadn't even seen a nurse. Luckily Earl was home, so I could stay and finish the process.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.00pm &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;back to the waiting room, watch Toy Story&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.40pm&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sent back to the nurses room, and told to put on a paper gown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.45&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;pm&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Examination by nurse. And then I mean, all the possible examinations you could &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;possibly get. In Holland the midwife measured my belly and asked if I was feeling &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;okay. Not here!  Good thing I don't have an aversion to needles and probes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.35pm&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;To the lab to donate 7 vials of blood. Every test under the sun will probably be &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;run.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.45pm&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The awaited moment has arrived: the Rhogam shot gets administered, and I feel &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;somewhat like I'm getting a horse shot&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.00pm&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Drive back home through rush hour traffic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And they want me to come back next week to do more tests! Diabetes, and then the week after that for another ultrasound. Have I mentioned I've already had 3 ultrasounds this pregnancy, and it's a low-risk pregnancy???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There were several instances when I considered leaving the building, driving home, calling a "normal" OB/GYN, and handing over a wad of cash, just to be put out of my misery. Instead I persevered to the end, and now feel totally deflated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-1297986405702960349?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/1297986405702960349/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=1297986405702960349&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1297986405702960349?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1297986405702960349?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/12/test-your-patience-i-dare-you.html" title="Test your patience. I dare you!" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0INQXg_fSp7ImA9WhRRGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-2406344771103796916</id><published>2011-12-01T22:43:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T22:53:10.645-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-01T22:53:10.645-06:00</app:edited><title>Medicaid</title><content type="html">Not having a job, also means no health insurance for us. Holland has a great health care system, where all adult get mandatory health insurance for €100/ month. Kids under the age of 18 are free. This is basic health care, and if you want supplemental coverage you pay slightly more. This €100 gets you 100% coverage. No co-pays or deductibles. You visit the doctor, and at the end of your appointment you just simply leave. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The US unfortunately has no such system. Even if your job subsidizes health insurance, it's normal to pay upwards of $380/month. This will only get you 80% coverage, and co-pays for each visit. If you are unfortunate enough not to have a job, or sufficient income for insurance, there is the option of medicaid. We now officially fall into this category, so I started the process of applying for medicaid. It brings back memories of my citizenship application. Lots of forms and copies of important documents need to be submitted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Having no insurance makes me nervous on many levels. First of all, if anything happens to the kids (like a broken arm) it could bankrupt us. Or even worse, if something goes wrong with the pregnancy, or there are complications, it's a sure path to bankrupty. Everything we've worked to build up can disappear in an instant. So even though I am hoping Joe will find a job with great health benefits soon, I have to be prepared for the worst case. So I apply for medicaid, and hope they understand our unique financial situation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Putting a driving force behind this, is the need for a Rhogam shot. I have the RH factor, which means I need a shot to ensure my body doesn't attack this baby or the next. It needs to happen around 28 weeks, which I currently am. Tomorrow I head to the Parkland hospital in downtown Dallas to see if they can help me there. I'm feeling a little apprehensive about it, since I'm worried they won't help me, and that it will take all day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-2406344771103796916?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/2406344771103796916/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=2406344771103796916&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2406344771103796916?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2406344771103796916?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/12/medicaid.html" title="Medicaid" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUGRXY6fip7ImA9WhRRGE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-4005813295423118290</id><published>2011-11-25T22:53:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T23:03:44.816-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-01T23:03:44.816-06:00</app:edited><title>Giving thanks</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I have many reasons to give thanks this year. It was great to see Joe's grandpa AC Ashurst after 6 years. Him and 2 of Joe's aunts flew out from Utah, and Josh drove from Louisiana. We had a wonderful feast with all the trimmings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jwfBCE8GQ98/Ttha9YYh0rI/AAAAAAAAD-w/9vbR0R0A3-8/s400/IMG_8539.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681390940491731634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We had 4 generations of Ashursts together&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ck0AWtgIr8/Ttha97Jcg3I/AAAAAAAAD-8/yRWpmM4moqQ/s400/IMG_8526.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681390949823710066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PS3Oe84iZek/Ttha-5OuXFI/AAAAAAAAD_I/6bagKQe57mU/s400/IMG_8529.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681390966488849490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The kids learned to play chess. Something I've never learned myself. It has just always seemed like a mysterious impossible thing to learn. Maybe if Winter and Sterling can learn, so can I??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U46uvOtm-Yw/Ttha_CpMQSI/AAAAAAAAD_U/KzS0gVOOo9A/s400/IMG_8507.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681390969015779618" /&gt;We ended the day with a bang with a party at the Benacs in Dallas. There's nothing like eating leftovers and catching up with a bunch of cousins&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ZbR8hE_Mcc/Ttha9RNP0UI/AAAAAAAAD-k/qB249aq4R-k/s400/6398767229_aed2a2d21d_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681390938565366082" /&gt;At 27 weeks, I'm just a few weeks ahead of Kelsey (Billy's wife)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BaFUUt94MZ8/TthbtMviT0I/AAAAAAAAD_g/-KK6jKcE4oo/s400/IMG00032-20111124-2102.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681391762000727874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-4005813295423118290?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/4005813295423118290/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=4005813295423118290&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/4005813295423118290?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/4005813295423118290?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/11/giving-thanks.html" title="Giving thanks" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jwfBCE8GQ98/Ttha9YYh0rI/AAAAAAAAD-w/9vbR0R0A3-8/s72-c/IMG_8539.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUDQXc-eSp7ImA9WhRREUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-6754828184536245202</id><published>2011-11-22T20:55:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-24T09:24:30.951-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-24T09:24:30.951-06:00</app:edited><title>Defected time machine</title><content type="html">The time machine I designed must be defected, because it took forever to be November 22nd. And I had to do all the work without skipping any! But we did make it, and the past weekend will always be a haze and slightly bad dream I will remember. Saturday was completely insane. We worked, and worked, and worked some more. And just when our bodies said no more, we still have lots more work to do. We took 3 trips to DI, had 3 different families pick up stuff, and also took a trip to the dump. We cleaned and sorted and packed, and after all that, ended up with 7 large, 50 lbs, suitcases, 4 carry-on bags (each about 40lbs), 4 stuffed backpacks that barely left the kids standing up straight, Coco's pet carrier, a roll of drawing, and my 20lbs laptop bag. At some points walking from gate to gate, I just closed my eyes, and thought positive thoughts about being able to survive. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyone who has been a teenager and pulled an all-nighter, knows what jet lag feels like. Your whole body aches, and it almost feels like an elephant is standing on your back. And worse, sleeping on the new schedule won't make you feel any better until several days after the switch. Sleeping is not an option, but the only thing you want to do. And that feeling lasts for days. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I'm soo relieved the worst part is over, and now we just need to settle into our temporary home. We started unpacking this morning, with the goal of making everything disappear before the arrival of Joe's grandpa from Utah who has never been to Texas. It almost sent me in a panic flashback mode to Saturday, but at least this time the quantity was limited to 11 bags. Even with all the sorting, 6 of the 11 bags ended up full in the attic. Those mostly contain items we will need in our own home, or things we'll want like the wii, DVDs, etc, but are not needed for the limited time we will be staying with the in-laws.  After hours of unpacking, sorting, and storing, the house looks almost as if we haven't even gotten here yet (with the exception of our closets of course), which makes me feel good about crashing here. Now if we can just keep it that way!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-6754828184536245202?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/6754828184536245202/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=6754828184536245202&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/6754828184536245202?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/6754828184536245202?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/11/defected-time-machine.html" title="Defected time machine" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YBRXo6eSp7ImA9WhRSFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-6128498915379680818</id><published>2011-11-18T09:38:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T09:45:54.411-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-18T09:45:54.411-06:00</app:edited><title>Time machine</title><content type="html">If I had a time machine, I'd travel to November 22nd. I'd skip the sorting, packing, weighing, cleaning, traveling, and wishing I had my own body for just 2 days. It seems like all of a sudden time has evaporated. Somehow we only have 1 full day to get everything done. It all has to be done by Saturday (tomorrow) night, because Sunday morning is church, the owners are coming for a walk-through right after, and we're spending the evening at my mom's house with her fiance Roger. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We're creating piles all over the house. This pile is for my dad, that one for Emma. There's a huge pile from a lady in the ward, which won't get picked up until after we leave. The brommer still needs to be sold, and I feel bad leaving a house full of boxes to be taken to a goodwill type store for my dad. All the beds and washer and dryer and couches and dining table also stay until after we leave (which is nice), so it's hard to get a good feel for the progress we're making. Right now it just looks like a tornado swept through the house...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today was the last day of school for the kids,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-6128498915379680818?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/6128498915379680818/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=6128498915379680818&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/6128498915379680818?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/6128498915379680818?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/11/time-machine.html" title="Time machine" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcCSXwyfCp7ImA9WhRSFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-3291433641018694047</id><published>2011-11-17T03:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T03:44:28.294-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-17T03:44:28.294-06:00</app:edited><title>Stay positive!</title><content type="html">Unfortunately our current reality is that our official net worth is less than $0, and our current immediate forecast is looking down. All things considering (the fact that one year of school cost us € XX), we are still in pretty good shape. But still. I don't feel comfortable with a negative net worth and no concrete way to change that yet.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never thought I'd ever have to care so much about the exchange rate of the euro. If it it goes down, our student loan could easily cost us thousands less. Or the opposite direction of course. We chose to get a loan, so when we got to the situation we're in now - end of school without a job - we'd have a cushion to live off. Of course we can't just say: Yeah... we have $ XX in the bank, lets have a party! Because we know that that money is offset by a $XX loan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Plus, we're moving to a new place, and need to buy 2 cars, insurance, (hopefully) move from Texas to Utah, and all those costs add up quickly. $ XX in debt can quickly multiply into $ XX in debt if we're not careful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I try to focus on the positives. We have more freedom than ever to move to our location of choice. We have a place to stay in the meantime --big thanks to my overgenerous in-laws!! Joe is a smart man, and now has an MBA to help him find a good job. We're all healthy. Plus we got to live in Europe for a year!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-3291433641018694047?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/3291433641018694047/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=3291433641018694047&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/3291433641018694047?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/3291433641018694047?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/11/stay-positive.html" title="Stay positive!" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcHSX0-fCp7ImA9WhRTGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-996471028952487735</id><published>2011-11-10T04:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T04:13:58.354-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-10T04:13:58.354-06:00</app:edited><title>25 Weeks</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;It's been a while since I posted an update on my pregnancy.&lt;div&gt;I'm now 25 weeks, and starting to wonder how in the heck I can go another 15 weeks without looking like a whale. Right now my belly is actually kind of cute, and I bet that any professional photo shoots of pregnant women is done around this time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CwW05gP6HBo/TruhpDv4YYI/AAAAAAAAD-Q/3a9C0_PbZes/s1600/IMG_8454.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CwW05gP6HBo/TruhpDv4YYI/AAAAAAAAD-Q/3a9C0_PbZes/s400/IMG_8454.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673305882356113794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;These past few weeks, and hopefully the next few weeks are the easiest of the pregnancy. My energy is (mostly) back, and the baby doesn't sit under my ribs 24 hours a day yet. I am surprised at how much movement I can already feel and see. The other day Joe was sitting next to me on the couch, and my belly was touching his upper arm. The baby kicked a few times, and without me asking Joe if he felt it, he actually looked over at me and gave me a look. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sleeping still doesn't created too much of a problem, except for the fact that I miss sleeping on my belly (which my chiropractor forbids anyways). Turning from left to right is getting more challenging, but doesn't wake me up yet. The biggest challenge I'm living with is wicked bad heartburn. Anything I eat can set it off. It's pretty much a given that I'll have heartburn after dinner every night, but even the middle of the day isn't exempt. None of the meds seem to do much good either. Overall I'm not complaining though, as I just LOVE to feel the baby inside of me, and the good complexion that has finally decided to grace my face. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-996471028952487735?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/996471028952487735/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=996471028952487735&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/996471028952487735?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/996471028952487735?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/11/25-weeks.html" title="25 Weeks" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CwW05gP6HBo/TruhpDv4YYI/AAAAAAAAD-Q/3a9C0_PbZes/s72-c/IMG_8454.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8AR3s-fSp7ImA9WhRTFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-7463256412257599546</id><published>2011-11-05T12:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-05T13:30:46.555-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-05T13:30:46.555-05:00</app:edited><title>One last day</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;One last day to site-see and do fun Dutch tourist stuff. That was today. Next weekend we visit my grandpa one last time, and the weekend after that we pack up all our stuff. And just like that our year in Europe will be over. We've visited all the really touristy attractions when visitors were in town, so we opted for a fun children's science museum in Amsterdam. I almost see the Nemo museum as a great indoor alternative to a playground. The kids might even learn something (although that's doubtful).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xxn9v7uhEx0/TrV9Q2ajlgI/AAAAAAAAD3o/wkHyu8EIU8w/s400/IMG_8398.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671577034181285378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RMUrcXmeLGg/TrV9QT7FioI/AAAAAAAAD3c/voFiqggE3f4/s400/IMG_8417.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671577024922487426" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1Pw2tiMahRE/TrV9PifV7bI/AAAAAAAAD3Q/5rSAj7QkFYg/s400/IMG_8423.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671577011652783538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /&gt;As we were checking out some old boats, this bus came driving up, and drove right into the water! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5fRylP6HmOE/TrV_FoFehUI/AAAAAAAAD4Y/dPAiO2DLVJA/s400/IMG_8407.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671579040379471170" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mwjqYgafV2k/TrV9RVpc42I/AAAAAAAAD30/-qgA_NN46Hc/s400/IMG_8408.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671577042565260130" /&gt;The Scheepsvaart museum has an amazing replica of an old ship. It had me imagining what it would be like to sail this baby on the open wide ocean.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KOc-v4NXn0U/TrV_EkuEAbI/AAAAAAAAD4M/PXCNNWRMYvQ/s400/IMG_1071.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671579022296089010" /&gt;Every time we visit Amsterdam, we get into the city the same way. Parking inside the city is about €5 per hour, so that's out of the question. Train tickets for 5 people also adds up. Instead the city has a genious system set up. If you park in one of the parking lots in the outskirts of town, you pay a flat fee of €8 for parking, which included a free public transport ticket for up to 5 people. Not too bad of a deal, as long as time isn't an issue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0IiCPOh372Y/TrV_Evkz7gI/AAAAAAAAD4A/MyJx7varJXU/s400/IMG_1047.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671579025210076674" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Our last visual on canals, bikes, and old houses in Amsterdam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bkh58aW7ayk/TrV9PWaUmuI/AAAAAAAAD3E/Anv9g3mOflw/s1600/IMG_8433.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bkh58aW7ayk/TrV9PWaUmuI/AAAAAAAAD3E/Anv9g3mOflw/s400/IMG_8433.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671577008410499810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-7463256412257599546?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/7463256412257599546/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=7463256412257599546&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/7463256412257599546?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/7463256412257599546?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/11/one-last-day.html" title="One last day" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xxn9v7uhEx0/TrV9Q2ajlgI/AAAAAAAAD3o/wkHyu8EIU8w/s72-c/IMG_8398.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0AHQ3c-eCp7ImA9WhRTEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-1131835242225767464</id><published>2011-11-02T05:22:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T05:28:52.950-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-02T05:28:52.950-05:00</app:edited><title>Craziness</title><content type="html">My life is craziness right now. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We move back to the USA in less than 3 weeks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I work for 2 more weeks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have to liquidate our whole household (again)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somehow we need to fit everything we want to bring into suitcases&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Many services have to be canceled (like phone, internet, insurance etc etc)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We still don't have a job, or any solid leads for that matter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm still 5 months pregnant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Both my mom and my dad are dating someone - my mom getting married in less than 3 months&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the current plan? I say current, because it is liable to change by the end of the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We go to Texas for Thanksgiving. A week or so after thanksgiving, Joe takes off to Utah and Colorado to network and job search, while the kids and I stay with Joe's parents to give the kids some stability. The kids will attend Andrews Elementary for the 3rd time, with no idea how long they will stay in the school. At least they'll know some kids already....   Meanwhile, Joe looks for work, and I try not to get too stressed about the fact that I have NO idea how we will have health insurance. I must keep the faith that everything will work out. Somehow...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-1131835242225767464?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/1131835242225767464/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=1131835242225767464&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1131835242225767464?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/1131835242225767464?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/11/craziness.html" title="Craziness" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8DSHs_cCp7ImA9WhRTGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-2166111493583065556</id><published>2011-10-30T03:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T03:37:59.548-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-10T03:37:59.548-06:00</app:edited><title>Sunday with the Cornishes</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;As our days count down, we try to cram as much quality time in with friends and family. A cloudy Sunday afternoon is the perfect time to go on a hike through the woods and sand dunes with my cousin Talita and family.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We're gonna miss these guys!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JE-eL9batnk/TruaQJvNyiI/AAAAAAAAD94/V6BeAls9O-U/s400/IMG_1033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673297757885811234" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Fun fact: Talita's husband Camaron is also my chiropractor!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p5JqB-E-U9o/TruaP92j3BI/AAAAAAAAD9s/bTbrflXlMuA/s400/IMG_1034.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673297754695392274" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Poor little Coco has become a lady. She's going through her first heat, and just absolutely hated to wear her fancy diaper pants. This photo captured a rare moment of relaxation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-quxy_tbTZKU/TruaRFuX4rI/AAAAAAAAD-E/YClGtMne1QU/s1600/IMG_1027.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-quxy_tbTZKU/TruaRFuX4rI/AAAAAAAAD-E/YClGtMne1QU/s400/IMG_1027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673297773988405938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-2166111493583065556?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/2166111493583065556/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=2166111493583065556&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2166111493583065556?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/2166111493583065556?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/10/sunday-with-cornishes.html" title="Sunday with the Cornishes" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JE-eL9batnk/TruaQJvNyiI/AAAAAAAAD94/V6BeAls9O-U/s72-c/IMG_1033.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4ERHw-eSp7ImA9WhRTGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3072835605679367657.post-7056074087264847706</id><published>2011-10-29T03:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T03:38:25.251-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-10T03:38:25.251-06:00</app:edited><title>Poop and pumpkins</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Trying to keep an American tradition alive, we participated in a few Halloweenish activities. Winter and Sterling attend activity days with the American ward and had a pumpkin painting activity. Ginger got to carve her pumpkin with Joe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AsdVyQyRV10/TruVrZbPZqI/AAAAAAAAD9U/bVuzU2K6wT0/s400/IMG_8358.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673292728395327138" /&gt;It was very difficult to find suitable pumpkins for carving/decorating. I must have visited 6 different garden centers and grocery stores, to find these specially marked pumpkins for decoration. They even came with stickers marking where to cut, which is exactly how Ginger believed it should be carved and no different.&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ka63cqg4f8w/TruVqmNuk8I/AAAAAAAAD9I/_4mF29n2-5Y/s400/IMG_8362.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673292714648441794" /&gt;Our ward organized an amazing Halloween party. The kind of party I remember going to when I was a kid in Holland. I'm not sure why Americans don't go all out like this, perhaps because of the massive cleanup that is required.&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aom0OEm25lE/TruYwF9qgXI/AAAAAAAAD9g/Q64RB4FS05k/s400/IMG_8387.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673296107605229938" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ginger dressed up as a princess, with her new dress from India. It would have been funny to video the response she got from virtually every person passing her on the street.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LEUFQ-qIbpM/TruVqbkrngI/AAAAAAAAD88/YOnYzSkTroQ/s1600/IMG_8365.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LEUFQ-qIbpM/TruVqbkrngI/AAAAAAAAD88/YOnYzSkTroQ/s400/IMG_8365.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673292711791926786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sterling chose to be a zombie, and really enjoyed ripping up some of my old clothes to create his costume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0vEpn3ym2EM/TruVpTx-H1I/AAAAAAAAD80/jIx4ZvkuSLI/s1600/IMG_8370.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0vEpn3ym2EM/TruVpTx-H1I/AAAAAAAAD80/jIx4ZvkuSLI/s400/IMG_8370.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673292692520312658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Each room in the church had a different activity. The nursery housed a poop-disecting station. The kids had to dig through (fake) feces to find some egg larve (jelly beans)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5nMB_F86N_U/TruVozf9CmI/AAAAAAAAD8k/E3UPxmbBV_0/s1600/IMG_8377.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5nMB_F86N_U/TruVozf9CmI/AAAAAAAAD8k/E3UPxmbBV_0/s400/IMG_8377.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673292683854809698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;All in all it was a great success. The kids were a bit disappointed with the small quantity of candy they received, but I was relieved. No sugar-induced coma for just one year!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3072835605679367657-7056074087264847706?l=nonworkingmother.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/feeds/7056074087264847706/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3072835605679367657&amp;postID=7056074087264847706&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/7056074087264847706?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3072835605679367657/posts/default/7056074087264847706?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nonworkingmother.blogspot.com/2011/10/poop-and-pumpkins.html" title="Poop and pumpkins" /><author><name>Jessica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04954105277732966131</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jB3DjK4IwD4/Sp7tgU7dCuI/AAAAAAAAB7A/bKib2xRsSOM/S220/jessica.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AsdVyQyRV10/TruVrZbPZqI/AAAAAAAAD9U/bVuzU2K6wT0/s72-c/IMG_8358.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>

