<?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" gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMHRX8-cCp7ImA9WxNUF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354</id><updated>2009-11-08T21:07:14.158-05:00</updated><title>Mom-101</title><subtitle type="html">I don't know what I'm doing either</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>663</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><logo>http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g240/lizcoolmompicks/mom10118x70.jpg</logo><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Mom-101" type="application/atom+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8NQn4-eSp7ImA9WxNUFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-2941441446238656033</id><published>2009-11-06T13:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T13:08:13.051-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-06T13:08:13.051-05:00</app:edited><title>The Yankees Parade: The view from a New Yorker</title><summary>

Let's just say you can't beat the view, the snacks are free, and the temperature is downright balmy.</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/2941441446238656033/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=2941441446238656033" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/2941441446238656033?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/2941441446238656033?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/11/yankees-parade-view-from-new-yorker.html" title="The Yankees Parade: The view from a New Yorker" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/SvRl0I1mJDI/AAAAAAAAAeE/n4vmDvkqCN4/s72-c/yankees+parade.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQHR3s-eip7ImA9WxNUE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-2232027530234293609</id><published>2009-11-04T07:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T09:18:56.552-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-04T09:18:56.552-05:00</app:edited><title>Happy happy joy joy</title><summary>I was really honored that yesterday, Gretchen Rubin, amazing author and happiness evangelist included me in her series of Happiness Project interviews.

(You can also find it on Slate, which...wow. Kinda nice.)

It seems like happiness is making a comeback. Or maybe because I'm interested in it, the happiness stuff is just finding me. This past spring, Meagan Francis launched The Happiest Mom to </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/2232027530234293609/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=2232027530234293609" title="36 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/2232027530234293609?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/2232027530234293609?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/11/happy-happy-joy-joy.html" title="Happy happy joy joy" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">36</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEDSHk-fip7ImA9WxNUEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-5867440204701852064</id><published>2009-11-03T08:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T08:24:39.756-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-03T08:24:39.756-05:00</app:edited><title>Eulogy for a poop joke</title><summary>Thalia came home last week informing us that Poop is now a bad word. Or so say her preschool teachers.

RIP the poop joke. Its passing is sad and untimely, but not altogether unexpected. 

What can I say, we had a good run while we can, what with Thalia's President Poopyhead baby shirt, and Nate teaching her songs in which he substitutes the word Poop for pretty much anything. We try are trying </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/5867440204701852064/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=5867440204701852064" title="30 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5867440204701852064?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5867440204701852064?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/11/eulogy-for-poop-joke.html" title="Eulogy for a poop joke" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/SvAsE3ufkCI/AAAAAAAAAd8/7nWH5AEKcc0/s72-c/poop+tombstone.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">30</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcGRXY5fip7ImA9WxNUEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-4296766131765380442</id><published>2009-11-02T10:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T10:00:24.826-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-11-02T10:00:24.826-05:00</app:edited><title>Coming to terms with the princess thing</title><summary>Okay so I admit it. We're snotty. We didn't want our kids to be your ordinary, run of the mill Disney fairy princesses, with the sparkles and the scratchy tulle and the strap-on wings that flew here directly from Dongguan Province (like magic!) and landed in the local Target.

Nate decided they should be Renaissance princesses. Mommy the feminist gave in. And with the help of some dresses we </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/4296766131765380442/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=4296766131765380442" title="31 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/4296766131765380442?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/4296766131765380442?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/11/coming-to-terms-with-princess-thing.html" title="Coming to terms with the princess thing" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/Su7yI7zrS_I/AAAAAAAAAd0/-p5xUwT6MEE/s72-c/DSC03509.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">31</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QGQHkzfCp7ImA9WxNVF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-5760924241016014623</id><published>2009-10-28T10:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T10:15:21.784-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-28T10:15:21.784-04:00</app:edited><title>Mawiage. Mawiage is what bwings us togethew today.</title><summary>Yesterday Thalia raced through the door after school, far happier than she was when she came home last week. (And by the way, your advice and consolation in comments meant the world. Thank you. I'm happy to say she's recovered quite nicely and has a shiny new friendship bracelet to show for it, courtesy of last year's teacher.)

"L said he wants to marry me!" she exclaimed, describing one of the </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/5760924241016014623/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=5760924241016014623" title="45 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5760924241016014623?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5760924241016014623?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/mawiage-mawiage-is-what-bwings-us.html" title="Mawiage. Mawiage is what bwings us togethew today." /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">45</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYBQ3k9fCp7ImA9WxNVFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-2718052441552807612</id><published>2009-10-26T10:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T10:42:32.764-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-26T10:42:32.764-04:00</app:edited><title>The Slutty Halloween Costume Test</title><summary>Let's be honest, it takes a whole lot of creativity to avoid the societal (or Ricky's) pressure to be a slutty nurse, slutty fairy, slutty cop, slutty flapper, or slutty Freddy Krueger on Halloween.

You only think I'm joking.



Because when I think sexy, I think serial killer. Rowr.

My non-blogging friend Jennifer (there are a few left) just had a hilarious facebook thread about the </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/2718052441552807612/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=2718052441552807612" title="39 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/2718052441552807612?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/2718052441552807612?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/slutty-halloween-costume-test.html" title="The Slutty Halloween Costume Test" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/SuWub5H3WJI/AAAAAAAAAds/mKdzdwke2bI/s72-c/8302886364-2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">39</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUCRXw6eip7ImA9WxNVE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-4219964205562674642</id><published>2009-10-23T10:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T17:44:24.212-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-23T17:44:24.212-04:00</app:edited><title>The heartbreakers of pre-k</title><summary>
Last night Thalia came home from school, not her usual happy self.

"What happened in school today?" I asked.

"Well, today we made friendship bracelets. But no one made me one."

Evidently the kids all created bracelets for anyone they wanted - a kid in the class, a sibling, a parent. But while many bracelets were exchanged, she was left bare-wristed. 

After she explained the situation, she </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/4219964205562674642/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=4219964205562674642" title="41 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/4219964205562674642?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/4219964205562674642?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/heartbreakers-of-pre-k.html" title="The heartbreakers of pre-k" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/SuIjFC-4MNI/AAAAAAAAAdk/vB2Zr5z6txI/s72-c/il_430xN.97079759.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">41</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYFQXs9fyp7ImA9WxNVEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-3495967058833710204</id><published>2009-10-21T09:01:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T16:48:30.567-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-21T16:48:30.567-04:00</app:edited><title>Because trust me, you don't want to see me naked, Chicago</title><summary>Yesterday I checked into the Hard Rock Hotel Chicago for the Marketing 2 Moms conference, went up to my beautiful room, plopped down my stuff and headed into the bathroom. The bathroom with the ginormous picture window facing all of downtown.

I tweeted:  




And in a stroke of social media mastery, within minutes, the Hard Rock Hotel tweeted back:




Which directed me to a most awesome </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/3495967058833710204/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=3495967058833710204" title="37 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3495967058833710204?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3495967058833710204?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/because-trust-me-you-dont-want-to-see.html" title="Because trust me, you don't want to see me naked, Chicago" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/St8Bx9QM8TI/AAAAAAAAAdU/PyQvVCaTlRA/s72-c/pee+tweet.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">37</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQDQng6eSp7ImA9WxNWGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-4041808850128457185</id><published>2009-10-19T09:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T09:52:53.611-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-19T09:52:53.611-04:00</app:edited><title>On balloon boy, blogging, and who's least likely to scar their children for life</title><summary>This morning I did a live interview for the NPR show, The Takeaway, about La Famille Balloon Boy (My favorite family. No, really. ) and reality TV show families in general.

Let me tell you, there is something both awesome and totally terrifying about sitting 2 feet from a pro like John Hockenberry while he's grilling you. Emmy voters? Fine choice. The man is masterful. As is his co-host Celeste </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/4041808850128457185/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=4041808850128457185" title="44 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/4041808850128457185?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/4041808850128457185?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/on-balloon-boy-blogging-and-whos-least.html" title="On balloon boy, blogging, and who's least likely to scar their children for life" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">44</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UAQnc8eyp7ImA9WxNWF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-3696189816551963910</id><published>2009-10-16T19:19:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T19:20:43.973-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-16T19:20:43.973-04:00</app:edited><title>Dear Balloon Boy Family, You F*cking Suck</title><summary>I watched yesterday, riveted.I watched that balloon floating away and imagined the worst.I cried.I was furious with those who made cynical jokes on Twitter, who doubted, who speculated fraud.I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I put myself on the line for you.I shushed my children while I followed the plight of your own.And I think it's pretty clear now that you faked it.You faked the </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/3696189816551963910/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=3696189816551963910" title="49 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3696189816551963910?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3696189816551963910?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/dear-balloon-boy-family-you-fcking-suck.html" title="Dear Balloon Boy Family, You F*cking Suck" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">49</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AESH08fSp7ImA9WxNWFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-5980742358656193445</id><published>2009-10-13T12:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T12:35:09.375-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-13T12:35:09.375-04:00</app:edited><title>Espana, baby</title><summary>I am jet-lagged, happy, delighted, inspired, humbled, exhausted, and home from Barcelona.Or Barf-e-low-va, as Sage is calling it.Port de BarfelovaThank you to all of you who sent amazing advice, good wishes, and excursion ideas. As for those of you reminding me how to order a cerveza in Spanish--as it turns out, they speak Catalan in Barcelona, which is a combination of Spanish, French, and I </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/5980742358656193445/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=5980742358656193445" title="32 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5980742358656193445?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5980742358656193445?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/espana-baby.html" title="Espana, baby" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">32</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUGRH85cCp7ImA9WxNXGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-5031285390228744416</id><published>2009-10-07T07:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T07:50:25.128-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-07T07:50:25.128-04:00</app:edited><title>Some things I will miss about New York and one I won't</title><summary>Barcelona is so close I can taste the chocolate dipped churros. And other things. That I may be forced to eat.(And suddenly I'm panicking that I'm going to be in the kinds of restaurants where I'll have have to smile while eating the rabbit intestines dipped in sea urchin. Worse - I may find out I like it, and then what will I have to complain about in life?)Here are a few things I will miss </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/5031285390228744416/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=5031285390228744416" title="29 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5031285390228744416?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5031285390228744416?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/some-things-i-will-miss-about-new-york.html" title="Some things I will miss about New York and one I won't" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">29</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MAQX44cSp7ImA9WxNXFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-5981365394930623255</id><published>2009-10-04T07:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T07:24:00.039-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-04T07:24:00.039-04:00</app:edited><title>National Outstanding Blogger Awareness Day (NOBAD)</title><summary>I feel like there is more niceness needed around these here parts right now.Between the #nestlefamily twitter debate and internet trolls and and Glenn Beck and various other bits of insanity, I want to continue to be the annoying glass-half-full kind of a gal that makes cynics (and Nate) absolutely crazy. And so I want you to know about some exceptionally cool people who deserve a little </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/5981365394930623255/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=5981365394930623255" title="84 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5981365394930623255?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5981365394930623255?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/national-outstanding-blogger-awareness.html" title="National Outstanding Blogger Awareness Day (NOBAD)" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">84</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QARXs-eyp7ImA9WxNXFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-1356700678698377667</id><published>2009-10-03T09:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T13:35:44.553-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-03T13:35:44.553-04:00</app:edited><title>The story of mommy and daddy (or, the most boring bedtime story ever told)</title><summary>Do you want to hear the story of how daddy and I met? I asked the kids, at a loss for another plotline in the bedtime story about Teddy the Bear and Flower the unicorn who went to the Fancy Foods Show."Yes!"Okay, because it's our anniversary next week. Which means that's the day that we first went out together. And we'll be in Spain to celebrate. So let me tell you about what happened seven years</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/1356700678698377667/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=1356700678698377667" title="24 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/1356700678698377667?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/1356700678698377667?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/10/story-of-mommy-and-daddy.html" title="The story of mommy and daddy (or, the most boring bedtime story ever told)" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">24</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4GQ349eCp7ImA9WxNXE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-8156234065964932737</id><published>2009-09-28T20:03:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T20:45:22.060-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-30T20:45:22.060-04:00</app:edited><title>Saving Women's Lives -and- Blurry Shots of Supermodels</title><summary>Last week,  I squeezed my Spanx-sheathed arse into a size 6 Armani dress from 10 years ago (postpartum triumph!) and prayed that no one would notice the length was all wrong. I was headed to the 4th  Important Dinner for Women at Cipriani 42nd Street."I think I am the only one here wearing shorts," Helena Christiansen said, pointing to her trendariffic outfit, as we made our way to our tables </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/8156234065964932737/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=8156234065964932737" title="39 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/8156234065964932737?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/8156234065964932737?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/saving-womens-lives-and-blurry-shots-of.html" title="Saving Women's Lives -and- Blurry Shots of Supermodels" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">39</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEACQHk_eSp7ImA9WxNXEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-8016125050484946908</id><published>2009-09-27T12:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T14:39:21.741-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-27T14:39:21.741-04:00</app:edited><title>Dance of My Sugarplum Fairy</title><summary>After more than a year of donning 2T tutus in the living room, cranking up the classical on demand channel or the Prima Princessa ballet DVD and thinking that would somehow suffice for my whirling, twirling, leaping little girl, we gave in. Yesterday we took Thalia to her first real ballet class.It was the most singularly poetic scene you can imagine - a dozen little four year-old girls in pink, </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/8016125050484946908/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=8016125050484946908" title="32 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/8016125050484946908?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/8016125050484946908?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/dance-of-my-sugarplum-fairy.html" title="Dance of My Sugarplum Fairy" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">32</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAFR349cSp7ImA9WxNQFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-1576734612064595825</id><published>2009-09-22T12:25:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T12:41:56.069-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-22T12:41:56.069-04:00</app:edited><title>Wanted: People to laugh at the funny parts.</title><summary>Oh my gosh, what with the first day of school and the begging for El Bulli dinner reservations that the Queen of England couldn't get, get and the cleaning up of cat poop six hundred times a day, I almost compleeeetely forgot to beg you to come to a show.Yes, a show. You like shows don't you? Of course you do!This one is called Expressing Motherhood and there are going to be all kinds of funny </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/1576734612064595825/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=1576734612064595825" title="13 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/1576734612064595825?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/1576734612064595825?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/wanted-people-to-laugh-at-funny-parts.html" title="Wanted: People to laugh at the funny parts." /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">13</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQDRnsycCp7ImA9WxNQFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-8068212766344823069</id><published>2009-09-21T07:40:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T07:42:57.598-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-21T07:42:57.598-04:00</app:edited><title>First Day Blues</title><summary>"Now hold my hand..." Thalia beckoned as we walked out the door to meet her new teacher and new classmates on Wednesday. "You have to hold my hand. That's what you do.""Well okay!" I said, proud to entwine my fingers in hers all while wondering how long it would be before she swatted me away in embarrassment.The answer? Six steps.Just outside our front door, we ran into a new classmate of hers </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/8068212766344823069/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=8068212766344823069" title="29 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/8068212766344823069?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/8068212766344823069?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/first-day-blues.html" title="First Day Blues" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/SrdjNKkfdzI/AAAAAAAAAdE/bt5FvefsON8/s72-c/DSC00258.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">29</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4ASXkzfSp7ImA9WxNXE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-9019624690760952613</id><published>2009-09-19T16:25:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T15:12:28.785-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-30T15:12:28.785-04:00</app:edited><title>OMG OMG OMG. In other words, the OMG post.</title><summary>This week, I went to this event called Swagapalooza--which, hello, moms would be reeeeeamed for if they ever dreamed of throwing such an event. But we won't go into that right now.It was actually not a swag whore thing --the swag bags were definitely secondary to the event itself--but rather a digital influencer experiment (how very 2009). Think the Shark Tank meets Donny Deutsch meets the Gong </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/9019624690760952613/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=9019624690760952613" title="67 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/9019624690760952613?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/9019624690760952613?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/omg-omg-omg-in-other-words-omg-post.html" title="OMG OMG OMG. In other words, the OMG post." /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">67</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQMR3wyeip7ImA9WxNQEEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-3180862650088910888</id><published>2009-09-15T11:07:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T20:53:06.292-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-15T20:53:06.292-04:00</app:edited><title>Dora the Explorer fragrance for children and other reasons the apocalypse is nigh</title><summary>I try not to rag on the bad pitches I get at Cool Mom Picks. Really I do. Although last night, I did have a grand old time dishing with the totally cool editors of The Giggle Guide about the Worst Product for Kids Ever.(My vote: The disembodied hand in the crib. Shhh...don't tell anyone.)I know that most of these products, however misguided or patently horrible, are backed by a small entrepreneur</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/3180862650088910888/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=3180862650088910888" title="53 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3180862650088910888?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3180862650088910888?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/dora-explorer-fragrance-and-other.html" title="Dora the Explorer fragrance for children and other reasons the apocalypse is nigh" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/Sq-u9ftovcI/AAAAAAAAAc8/MJeMfY1Z-oI/s72-c/DOR12.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">53</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4EQH86eip7ImA9WxNRGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-8463542797898901521</id><published>2009-09-14T08:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T08:55:01.112-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-14T08:55:01.112-04:00</app:edited><title>What happens in Vegas goes right on the blog.</title><summary>The people of Vegas are not like you and me.This is a place where the skirts are smaller than some belts I own.And what would be considered a wardrobe malfunction anywhere else is, in fact, a deliberate style choice.This is a place where it's not unusual to see a sign reading THIS WAY TO THE BARRY MANILOW STORE.And people are actually following it.The hottest towel north of Havana.I'm here with </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/8463542797898901521/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=8463542797898901521" title="33 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/8463542797898901521?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/8463542797898901521?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/what-happens-in-vegas-goes-right-on.html" title="What happens in Vegas goes right on the blog." /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9CSnKb_LmKY/Sq47JCK7cCI/AAAAAAAAAc0/MZdbpSCiMVE/s72-c/29675992.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">33</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cNQn04eSp7ImA9WxNRFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-4884227429797636056</id><published>2009-09-10T08:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T10:24:53.331-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-11T10:24:53.331-04:00</app:edited><title>Buh-bye 40</title><summary>Today is my last day of 40. And I'm finding myself in that strange position I was exactly a decade ago, when 30 came to a screeching halt.I remember having looked forward to 30 for so long, to the maturity and authority I thought it would confer, to the great milestone that is THREE-OH that I plum forgot that the birthdays didn't stop there. When 31 somehow sneaked up on me in the cruelest, most </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/4884227429797636056/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=4884227429797636056" title="63 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/4884227429797636056?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/4884227429797636056?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/buh-bye-40.html" title="Buh-bye 40" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">63</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUHQn06cCp7ImA9WxNRFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-3315019921175289892</id><published>2009-09-08T21:20:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T07:37:13.318-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-09T07:37:13.318-04:00</app:edited><title>Blog With Integrity, the next chapter</title><summary>A few people have asked me lately what has come out of the Blog with Integrity effort.Here is what has come out of it: A renewal in my faith in humanity.I admit (mea culpa) I am often inclined to see the world in more black and white than it warrants. I have to work really hard to see lots of sides to stories, especially the ones that aren't readily apparent. I'd imagine that describes a lot of </summary><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3315019921175289892?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3315019921175289892?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/blog-with-integrity-next-chapter.html" title="Blog With Integrity, the next chapter" /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YMSXc4fyp7ImA9WxNREkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-5687399132522921187</id><published>2009-09-06T12:29:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T12:39:48.937-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-06T12:39:48.937-04:00</app:edited><title>M is for Mmmmmmm. Maybe.</title><summary>The other day, Thalia told daddy she now likes mushrooms. I'm not sure who was more excited, but I think it was Nate."Would you like to order some mushrooms on your scrambled eggs at the diner morning?" he asked her."OH, YES," she exclaimed. Nate flagged the waiter."You want them on top? On top of the eggs?""YES! Lots of mushrooms! I looooove them!"Wait a minute, I thought - my little picky eater</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/5687399132522921187/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=5687399132522921187" title="17 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5687399132522921187?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/5687399132522921187?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/m-is-for-mmmmmmm-maybe.html" title="M is for Mmmmmmm. Maybe." /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">17</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04NQXg7fyp7ImA9WxNSGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21732354.post-3220902272621489497</id><published>2009-09-01T20:25:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T20:39:50.607-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-01T20:39:50.607-04:00</app:edited><title>I see London, I see abject humiliation...</title><summary>"We had a little mishap this morning," my sitter told me.What kind of mishap?"Well, the stroller wasn't working," she said, "and I looked down to see what was happening and it was the wheel. Something was in the wheel. And so we bent down to try and fix it and I realized all tangled up on the wheel was...well...Yes?"It was your underwear."That's not embarrassing."Yes, it was a big mess. and it </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.mom-101.com/feeds/3220902272621489497/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21732354&amp;postID=3220902272621489497" title="56 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3220902272621489497?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21732354/posts/default/3220902272621489497?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.mom-101.com/2009/09/i-see-london-i-see-abject-humiliation.html" title="I see London, I see abject humiliation..." /><author><name>Mom101</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15468524489744839899</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02513838231066929506" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">56</thr:total></entry></feed>
