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    <title>Memoirs of a Moorings</title>
    
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    <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:weblog-526321</id>
    <updated>2009-11-09T22:05:35-08:00</updated>
    <subtitle>The NON-Superwoman Chronicles</subtitle>
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    <link rel="license" type="text/html" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/" /><logo>http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/fb_pwrd.gif</logo><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/MemoirsOfAMoorings" type="application/atom+xml" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>MemoirsOfAMoorings</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry>
        <title>Yep. He's the God Who Sees</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MemoirsOfAMoorings/~3/fjGtub5yvj4/he-says-to-himself-god-has-forgotten-he-covers-his-face-and-never-sees-psalm-1011shayne-playing-peek-a-boothinking-he.html" />
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a66ce3ba970b</id>
        <published>2009-11-09T22:05:35-08:00</published>
        <updated>2009-11-09T22:05:35-08:00</updated>
        <summary>"He says to himself, "God has forgotten; he covers his face and never sees." Psalm 10:11 (Shayne playing peek-a-boo..thinking he can't be seen. Photo by T. Gardner..best daycare provider in the world!) Sometimes you just gotta close your eyes and...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Christian Walk" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"He says to himself, "God has forgotten; he covers his face and never sees." Psalm 10:11&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20128756e3853970c-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo" border="0" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20128756e3853970c image-full " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20128756e3853970c-800wi" title="Photo"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11px; "&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10px; "&gt;(Shayne playing peek-a-boo..thinking he can't be seen. Photo by T. Gardner..best daycare provider in the world!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sometimes you just gotta close your eyes and look through eyes of faith.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Especially when God's given you a promise and what you have looks nothing like what God promised. Makes me think of Hagar. The maidservant of Sarai, who was shunned after becoming pregnant by Abram. Shunned by the very woman who caused all the madness. So she fled the meanness and the mayhem. (Read the backstory &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis%2016&amp;amp;version=NLT" target="_blank"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And she fled to a spring in the desert of all places. I love how God works. In her brokenness, He provided a bright spot. In her dry place, He provided a spring in the desert and that's where He spoke to her. A promise. "Thereafter, Hagar used another name to refer to the Lord, who had spoken to her. She said, “You are the God who sees me.” She also said, “Have I truly seen the One who sees me?” So that well was named Beer-lahai-roi (which means “well of the Living One who sees me”). It can still be found between Kadesh and Bered." Genesis 16:13-14.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;God saw Hagar. He saw her rejection. He saw her confusion. But none of that took away the promise that He held in His hand. Sometimes we confuse the desert with a forsaken promise. But God sees the desert as the springwell of promises. A place where promises pour forth like fresh water. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We get it twisted. Yet God never does.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;God sees me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;God sees you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And if we stop running long enough, we'll see the springs in our own deserts.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=fjGtub5yvj4:NXmHSyOGNQI:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=fjGtub5yvj4:NXmHSyOGNQI:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
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    <feedburner:origLink>http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/11/he-says-to-himself-god-has-forgotten-he-covers-his-face-and-never-sees-psalm-1011shayne-playing-peek-a-boothinking-he.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Listen More Slowly</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MemoirsOfAMoorings/~3/zUxXVzogjkk/people-ought-to-listen-more-slowly-jean-spark-ducey-ive-been-a-writer-for-as-far-back-as-i-can-remember-its-the-only-car.html" />
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a64c426d970b</id>
        <published>2009-11-02T14:41:12-08:00</published>
        <updated>2009-11-02T14:41:13-08:00</updated>
        <summary>"People ought to listen more slowly." ~ Jean Spark Ducey I've had a love affair with words for as far back as I can remember. A career working with the written word was the only one that I dreamed of...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Christian Walk" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;font class="sqq"&gt;"People ought to listen more slowly." ~ Jean Spark Ducey&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;font class="sqq"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a6a1c4fd970c-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Newest 034" border="0" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a6a1c4fd970c image-full " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a6a1c4fd970c-800wi" title="Newest 034"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've had a love affair with words for as far back as I can remember. A career working with the written word was the only one that I dreamed of as a child--well that and being a ballerina--but that was short-lived. (I could &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;pull in stomach, make sure my shoulders were straight but tucking my bottom under was always a challenge. Do they realize how hard that is for black girls? Okay&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, I digress.) Translating my thoughts into words is like breathing. Like Snoopy, sometimes the thoughts come so fast and furious I can hardly type them out. Or sometimes, I'm scrambling for a piece of paper, the back of a receipt anything to capture the steady stream of thoughts that pour forth from like my head running water. I've had this cartoon strip cut out for decades and posted on my bulletin board to remind me that sometimes the words just don't come and that's okay.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lately my words have been sitting quiet in my head like shy butterflies. Lots to say, but I'm feeling like God is telling me to hush a little and listen. As people, we are so often prone to running here and there listening to other people's opinions about our lives and what they think we should do...when God is standing to the side waiting for us to come to Him and get the real answer. The one that outshines them all.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I'm not going to run from this season of listening. Instead I'm going to take heed to those gentle nudges to turn off the TV and the mp3 player and simply sit in God's presence and listen. Instead of reading a whole chapter, I can sit and meditate with a verse and really hear what God is trying to say. He's talking all the time. It's just a matter of how quiet are we to hear His still small voice.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm taking some time to listen more slowly. Wanna join me?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=zUxXVzogjkk:2N0tsufOx1c:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=zUxXVzogjkk:2N0tsufOx1c:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


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    <entry>
        <title>Lunch Box Love</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a6433362970c</id>
        <published>2009-10-15T22:38:59-07:00</published>
        <updated>2009-10-15T22:38:59-07:00</updated>
        <summary>This morning I scribbled this note on a napkin and stuck it in my kindergartner's lunch--not thinking much of it. I got word from his Sis. T, the boys daycare provider, that when he got in after school he said...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;This morning I scribbled this note on a napkin and stuck it in my kindergartner's lunch--not thinking much of it.&lt;/p&gt;&#xD;
&#xD;
&lt;p&gt;I got word from his Sis. T, the boys daycare provider, that when he got in after school he said that the napkin note "was very sweet of mommy." She also let me know he said that seeing the note made him think of me. Awwww... &lt;/p&gt;&#xD;
&#xD;
&lt;p&gt;This afternoon as I was cleaning his lunch box out I saw the note still there--used--but still there. Who knew that a few scribbles on a napkin would touch both of our hearts. &lt;br&gt;&#xD;
&lt;!-- (DWIM) attachments start here --&gt;&lt;br&gt;&#xD;
&lt;a style="display: inline;" href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a643331b970c-pi"&gt;&lt;img class="asset  asset-image at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a643331b970c" alt="Lunch Box Love" src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a643331b970c-580wi"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=Jr7fjG3Wsi0:N_Q73-xjvUQ:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=Jr7fjG3Wsi0:N_Q73-xjvUQ:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


    <feedburner:origLink>http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/10/lunch-box-love-1.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Like Playdoh in the Master's Hand</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a5cf3d13970b</id>
        <published>2009-10-08T15:55:43-07:00</published>
        <updated>2009-10-08T15:55:43-07:00</updated>
        <summary>"And yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand." Isaiah 64:8 Lately, I've been feeling very unpliable in the Master's Hand. Unbending. Unyielding. It's a...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Christian Walk" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;"And yet, O L&lt;span style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;ord&lt;/span&gt;, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand." Isaiah 64:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a6261544970c-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Flickr_play_doh" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a6261544970c " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a6261544970c-500wi"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lately, I've been feeling very unpliable in the Master's Hand.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Unbending.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Unyielding. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's a most uncomfortable place to be...especially when you know you need to just loosen up, let go and let God do the molding.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Romans 8:29-30 says in The Message version of the Bible: &lt;em&gt;"God knew what He was doing from the very beginning. He decided from the&#xD;
outset to &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SHAPE &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;the lives of those who love Him along the same lines as&#xD;
the life of his Son. The Son stands first in the line of humanity He&#xD;
restored. We see the original and intended &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SHAPE &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;of our lives there in Him."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For those of us who are born again, we are being shaped into the very image of Jesus. &lt;br&gt;No easy feat or us to endure.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We, who were born into sin, are being shaped into the image of the One who knew no sin.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What?!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Easy stuff for God. Hard for us because we tend to think our cleaned up, baptized, sanctified selves are just fine. What further work could possibly need to be done? That &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+12:2&amp;amp;version=NIV"&gt;pattern &lt;/a&gt;of the world, that cloth that we were cut from, needs to be worked out of us. Because we weren't designed according to the pattern of &lt;em&gt;this &lt;/em&gt;world.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think back to my 5-year-old's fascination with Playdoh a couple of years back. He'd poke it, prod it, flatten it, slam it with his hand--all with the hopes that it would be shaped into the image in his mind's eye. And when he couldn't get it quite right, he'd hand it over to me where I'd further poke and prod until finally it met approval from both of us. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In just the same way, God has an image He's forming us into. He knows what the finished product is to look like. How much it needs to be bent and shaped. We are the ones who are clueless. So all the prodding and reshaping can seem like torture....maybe even sometimes like God doesn't care.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But, oh! How much He cares. So much so that He won't let our unyieldingness hinder Him from shaping every silhouette of our lives.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My prayer of late is that I stop being so stiff in God's hand and so hard-hearted towards what He's trying to do in me. In the end, I'm sure I'll be surprised at the masterpiece that He'll unfold after all the shaping and re-shaping takes place.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=LWvDVf7LqMk:fkXATyFRVFk:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=LWvDVf7LqMk:fkXATyFRVFk:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


    <feedburner:origLink>http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/10/like-playdoh-in-the-masters-hand.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Last Week's Bento Box Lunches ~ Sept 30-Oct 2</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MemoirsOfAMoorings/~3/R3ZLdVroN7E/last-weeks-bento-box-lunches-sept-30oct-2.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/10/last-weeks-bento-box-lunches-sept-30oct-2.html" thr:count="0" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a5ce6676970b</id>
        <published>2009-10-08T10:44:38-07:00</published>
        <updated>2009-10-08T10:44:38-07:00</updated>
        <summary>Life is getting by me.......these are last week's lunches and I have been running late all week so no pictures of this week's lunch. Sad thing too because they were good lunches that he actually ate. These lunches pictured were...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Bento lunch" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;p&gt;Life is getting by me.......these are last week's lunches and I have been running late all week so no pictures of this week's lunch. Sad thing too because they were good lunches that he actually ate. These lunches pictured were pretty much a bust because he said they weren't warm enough. So I ended up buying him a thermos and another microwaveable container where you heat up the food, cover it and it stays warm. I tried it myself and it worked. I'll try to post photos of them soon.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;For this lunch below, he ate all the fruit and some of the stuffed muffin. But the carrots and pizza were untouched. Who would pass up pizza? Such a picky kid this child is!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5ce6480970b-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Bento lunches 002" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5ce6480970b " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5ce6480970b-500wi"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This lunch went over pretty well...the only thing he didn't eat were the Cheez-It crackers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5ce65e7970b-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Bento lunches 004" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5ce65e7970b " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5ce65e7970b-500wi"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=R3ZLdVroN7E:s7zSivZpDs0:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=R3ZLdVroN7E:s7zSivZpDs0:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


    <feedburner:origLink>http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/10/last-weeks-bento-box-lunches-sept-30oct-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>A Week of Bento Box Lunches ~ September 21-25, 2009</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MemoirsOfAMoorings/~3/QWMvbtacZbU/a-week-of-bento-box-lunches-september-2125-2009.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/a-week-of-bento-box-lunches-september-2125-2009.html" thr:count="2" thr:updated="2009-10-06T09:12:33-07:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a5a55620970b</id>
        <published>2009-09-28T12:01:10-07:00</published>
        <updated>2009-09-28T12:02:51-07:00</updated>
        <summary>Last week got by me and I didn't get to blog so I'm not even sure what days go with what lunches. And there's one day that I totally forgot to take pictures of the lunch. Such is the life...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Bento lunch" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Last week got by me and I didn't get to blog so I'm not even sure what days go with what lunches. And there's one day that I totally forgot to take pictures of the lunch. Such is the life of a mom with a kid newly in kindergarten. I'm trying to catch a groove.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So this is my lunch. I packed it since my big boy ate in the cafeteria a few days last week.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chicken taquitos, grapes, strawberries and yogurt. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="asset asset-image"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5a5442e970b-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="asset asset-image"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5a5455e970b-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="1000 gifts 018" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5a5455e970b " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5a5455e970b-500wi"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&#xD;
&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;This lunch sadly did not go over well. Most of the quesadillas came back since he said they weren't warm enough. I gave him some chicken lunch meat rolled up. He ate one. All the fruit was gone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="asset asset-image"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5fbf08d970c-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="1000 gifts 021" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5fbf08d970c " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5fbf08d970c-500wi"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&#xD;
&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I was a little worried about this lunch and the mac and cheese staying warm enough. I'd bought two insulated bags for the bento boxes and tried them out. The mac and cheese was halfway gone. He said I put too much in there. The hawaiian bread roll was half eaten and the yogurt untouched. He said he was too full to eat it. But of course the fruit and fruit snacks were a hit. Oh yeah and on the bottom level of the blue bento box I packed a hot dog. It was gone. I ended up microwaving the mac and cheese and boiling the hot dog in the morning and packing it up hot in the insulated bag (I'll take pics of it this week if I remember.) He said they were warm enough. I'm thinking of packing lunch in the bag myself to see how warm it stays.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="asset asset-image"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5fbf3a1970c-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Bento lunch 003" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5fbf3a1970c " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5fbf3a1970c-500wi"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&#xD;
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=QWMvbtacZbU:7LFMaa5F-7c:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=QWMvbtacZbU:7LFMaa5F-7c:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


    <feedburner:origLink>http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/a-week-of-bento-box-lunches-september-2125-2009.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Simple Thanks: The One Thousand Gift List</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MemoirsOfAMoorings/~3/3aC1V8Sfn_w/simple-thanks-the-one-thousand-gift-list.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/simple-thanks-the-one-thousand-gift-list.html" thr:count="2" thr:updated="2009-09-29T15:43:27-07:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a5e906d3970c</id>
        <published>2009-09-23T11:53:43-07:00</published>
        <updated>2009-09-23T11:53:43-07:00</updated>
        <summary>"Be thankful for what you have; you'll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never, ever have enough." ~Oprah Winfrey 250. Warm weather well into September 251. Pudgy toddler arms around this momma's...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="One Thousand Gifts" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="asset asset-image"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Be thankful for what you have; you'll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never, ever have enough." ~Oprah Winfrey&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="asset asset-image"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5e904b6970c-pi" style="display: block;"&gt;&lt;img alt="1000 gifts 007" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5e904b6970c " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5e904b6970c-500wi" style="margin: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&#xD;
&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;250. Warm weather well into September&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;251. Pudgy toddler arms around this momma's neck &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;252. A 5 year old still holding my hand--if only for a second&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;253. My baby/big boy on bended knee at bedtime&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;254. Answering a zillion questions about God&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;255. Requests to listen to the story of David and Goliath on the Adventure Bible Audiobook over and over &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;256. &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+12:1&amp;amp;version=KJV"&gt;A mighty cloud of witnesses&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;257. Sunday's sermon reminding me that God loves me&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;258. Middle of the night checks on the boys; pulling up blankets and covering cold toes&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;259. Cookies and cream ice-cream on a sugar cone&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;260. Texting and LOL with an old friend&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;261. Homemade lunches&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;262. Afternoon coffee&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;263. &lt;a href="http://www.lifechurch.tv/message-archive/watch/habakkuk"&gt;This&lt;/a&gt; podcast series that inspired me to walk through the book of Habakkuk&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;264. Questioning...yet trusting God&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;265. Watching God cultivate &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+6:22&amp;amp;version=NIV"&gt;Noah's heart&lt;/a&gt; in me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=3aC1V8Sfn_w:zpL2elrYxB4:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=3aC1V8Sfn_w:zpL2elrYxB4:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


    <feedburner:origLink>http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/simple-thanks-the-one-thousand-gift-list.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>This Week's Bento Box Lunches ~ September 14-17, 2009</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MemoirsOfAMoorings/~3/RLMA2uPEgB8/this-weeks-bento-box-lunches-september-1417-2009.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/this-weeks-bento-box-lunches-september-1417-2009.html" thr:count="1" thr:updated="2009-09-21T12:46:35-07:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a5d35708970c</id>
        <published>2009-09-17T21:25:13-07:00</published>
        <updated>2009-09-17T21:25:13-07:00</updated>
        <summary>Thinking I'll make my big boy's bento box lunches a regular feature since a certain friend of mine requested that they be spotlighted so she'll have some ideas. This is for you LaCrecia :-) I only had to make two...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Bento lunch" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thinking I'll make my big boy's bento box lunches a regular feature since a certain friend of mine requested that they be spotlighted so she'll have some ideas. This is for you LaCrecia :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I only had to make two lunches this week since the cafeteria was serving three of his favorite things this week: macaroni &amp;amp; cheese, quesadillas and pizza.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TUESDAY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Monday night I made stuffed muffins for the boys. I got a request to include one in lunch for the next day. This time I made them with chopped up rotissiere chicken, cheddar cheese and peas. I also included a hot dog, mandarin oranges, sliced apples, grapes, a pop tart and Capri Sun. This lunch was a hit.&lt;br&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5d34372970c-pi" style="display: block;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Bento 003" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5d34372970c " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5d34372970c-500wi" style="margin: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5d34bec970c-pi" style="display: block;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Bento 004" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5d34bec970c " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5d34bec970c-500wi" style="margin: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WEDNESDAY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Packed a sweet hawaiian bread roll, crispy chicken tenders, peas, sliced apples, oranges, Cheez-It crackers and a drink. The entire second level (chicken etc..) came back untouched. Turns out he didn't know it was there. Aaarrgh. So we will have to do a dry run the night before. He ended up eating it when he got home.&lt;/p&gt;&#xD;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a57cd169970b-pi" style="display: block;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Bento 005" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a57cd169970b " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a57cd169970b-500wi" style="margin: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5d3536a970c-pi" style="display: block;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Bento 010" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5d3536a970c " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5d3536a970c-500wi" style="margin: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;THURSDAY&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&#xD;
&lt;p&gt;Although Rhyan ate in the cafeteria today, I still packed him a snack because they get to eat a healthy snack at second recess. So this was his request, hawaiian bread, grapes and sliced apples. I included the strawberries even though he insisted he didn't like them. When I checked this afternoon, there wasn't a strawberry to be found. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm too tuckered out to include tomorrow's snack...maybe I'll add it on next week's post. Any ideas on what to tuck in these bento boxes? I'd love to hear them!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a57cdd2c970b-pi" style="display: block;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Bento 015" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a57cdd2c970b " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a57cdd2c970b-500wi" style="margin: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br&gt;&#xD;
&lt;/p&gt;&#xD;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=RLMA2uPEgB8:0JcptjmNdVE:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=RLMA2uPEgB8:0JcptjmNdVE:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


    <feedburner:origLink>http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/this-weeks-bento-box-lunches-september-1417-2009.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>I'm the Apple Of His Eye</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MemoirsOfAMoorings/~3/N88c9a4lHEw/im-the-apple-of-his-eye.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/im-the-apple-of-his-eye.html" thr:count="2" thr:updated="2009-09-14T20:56:28-07:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a56e408b970b</id>
        <published>2009-09-14T12:29:00-07:00</published>
        <updated>2009-09-14T12:29:00-07:00</updated>
        <summary>"Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings" Psalm 17:8 This little dude here never ceases to amaze me. He's so multi-faceted. He's a boy's boy. A man's man. I don't think...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Christian Walk" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="The Boys" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;"Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings" Psalm 17:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a56e25af970b-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Sam" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a56e25af970b image-full " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a56e25af970b-800wi" title="Sam"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This little dude here never ceases to amaze me. He's so multi-faceted. He's a boy's boy. A man's man. I don't think I've ever seen him with a doll. But here he is displaying his nurturing side in a picture snapped at daycare. He's all about quick left punches, dinosaurs and playing with cars. But when I think about it, I shouldn't be surprised at this photo. Littlest has a soft touch and is known for being a bit of a momma's boy. In fact, being gentle (at the right moment) is something that comes quite naturally to both of our boys. So really..it's only fitting that he would take the time to gaze into this baby's eyes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Reminds me of how God is with us. He is in one instance, &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Deuteronomy+32:9-11&amp;amp;version=NIV"&gt;like a mother eagle&lt;/a&gt;, protecting her young under her wings. And in another moment, He is &lt;a href="http://" target="_blank" title="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+17:7-9&amp;amp;version=NIV"&gt;fighting on our behalf&lt;/a&gt; like the powerful warrior that He is.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;That's what I love about God. So much rolled into One. Limitless.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Yet through it all, He holds us up and He keeps His eye on us. I'm in awe of His love.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5c4dde2970c-pi" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Doll awe" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a5c4dde2970c image-full " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a5c4dde2970c-800wi" title="Doll awe"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=N88c9a4lHEw:ZOkk2Tj6_lo:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=N88c9a4lHEw:ZOkk2Tj6_lo:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


    <feedburner:origLink>http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/im-the-apple-of-his-eye.html</feedburner:origLink></entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Watching Him Grow Wings</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MemoirsOfAMoorings/~3/n3nDUNeQkl8/watching-him-grow-wings.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/2009/09/watching-him-grow-wings.html" thr:count="2" thr:updated="2009-09-16T13:58:44-07:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00d83452350969e20120a561ef63970b</id>
        <published>2009-09-10T13:49:27-07:00</published>
        <updated>2009-09-10T13:53:56-07:00</updated>
        <summary>"Labor Day is a glorious holiday because your child will be going back to school the next day. It would have been called Independence Day, but that name was already taken." ~Bill Dodds First day of school got me all...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>NON-Superwoman</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Mommy Matters" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="The Boys" />
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/memoirs_of_a_moorings/">&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px; font-family: Arial;"&gt;"Labor&#xD;
Day is a glorious holiday because your child will be going back to&#xD;
school the next day.  It would have been called Independence Day, but&#xD;
that name was already taken."  ~Bill Dodds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;First day of school got me all wound up and excited that I didn't pay attention to the settings on my camera so I ended up getting a bunch of over-exposed shots. Boo Mommy! Plus, all my big boy wanted to do was get out of the door. So all I really got was some fake smiles. Oh well. I have a bit of history.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a561e81e970b-pi" style="float: left;"&gt;&lt;img alt="First Day 018" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a561e81e970b " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a561e81e970b-500wi" style="margin: 0px 5px 5px 0px;"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt; My kid was not the one who was crying. No, he was the one at the front of the pack to get into the classroom, waving and yelling the teacher's name. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's a weird place to be--watching your child growing wings right before your very eyes. If I wasn't so proud, I probably would have cried.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But probably the best part of the whole day is that he and his best daycare/preschool buddy (who also happens to be the daycare provider's daughter) are in the same class and will be sitting side by side. While waiting in line, they were holding hands supporting each other. Too cute!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a561f294970b-pi" style="float: left;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Hands" class="at-xid-6a00d83452350969e20120a561f294970b " src="http://www.nonsuperwomanchronicles.com/.a/6a00d83452350969e20120a561f294970b-500wi" style="margin: 0px 5px 5px 0px;"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=n3nDUNeQkl8:0BqEiqEU3JY:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?a=n3nDUNeQkl8:0BqEiqEU3JY:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/MemoirsOfAMoorings?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content>


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