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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608</id><updated>2012-02-24T01:19:25.231-03:30</updated><category term="calendar" /><category term="plans" /><category term="movies" /><category term="books" /><category term="not a family" /><category term="shopping" /><category term="pros and cons" /><category term="shower" /><category term="mishaps" /><category term="Rusty" /><category term="platitudes" /><category term="things that save Mom's sanity" /><category term="summer" /><category term="thumbs 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type="text">Momster Tales</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</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/MomsterTales" /><feedburner:info uri="momstertales" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:browserFriendly></feedburner:browserFriendly><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-2379082369801767129</id><published>2011-11-22T13:40:00.001-03:30</published><updated>2011-11-22T14:07:46.771-03:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="decorations" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="winter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mittens" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="craft" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family time" /><title type="text">Merry Mittens</title><content type="html">Don't you hate how bare your house looks after you take down your Christmas decorations? That's what I had in mind when I came up with this craft - festive mittens that can stay up all winter long. It's super easy to do, and all my kids enjoyed putting it together. Yes, even the teen had a blast decorating her mitten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What you need:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;felt in different colours&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;glue&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;pen or marker&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;mini clothes pins (can be found at craft store)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;scissors&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;decorations for your mittens (sequins, felt or paper scraps, glitter, etc.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;string&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPOiEK5bjLY/TsvYpH5vEnI/AAAAAAAAAGc/yANuxNKdNwA/s1600/IMG_1828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPOiEK5bjLY/TsvYpH5vEnI/AAAAAAAAAGc/yANuxNKdNwA/s320/IMG_1828.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;You can use the template below to trace a mitten shape onto the felt. It can be pasted into Word and&amp;nbsp;re-sized. Mine was about 1/4 of the page.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-poKgZ5cnQIU/TsvZrk4mHFI/AAAAAAAAAG8/XE2vh7oyfXQ/s1600/mitten.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-poKgZ5cnQIU/TsvZrk4mHFI/AAAAAAAAAG8/XE2vh7oyfXQ/s320/mitten.gif" width="254" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Once you have traced and cut your mitten, it should look something like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GaLLDg4CHbk/TsvZUyR1RtI/AAAAAAAAAGk/IPGlpZEMOKg/s1600/IMG_1829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GaLLDg4CHbk/TsvZUyR1RtI/AAAAAAAAAGk/IPGlpZEMOKg/s320/IMG_1829.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Next, decorate your mitten any way you like. I used a snowflake pattern for mine. The kids used sequins, glitter glue, felt scraps and fabric markers. You can also buy adhesive felt shapes at the craft store which are great for this kind of project.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D4Y_n0KAX_o/TsvZfosYx6I/AAAAAAAAAGs/5CXMW5L4ho8/s1600/IMG_1830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D4Y_n0KAX_o/TsvZfosYx6I/AAAAAAAAAGs/5CXMW5L4ho8/s320/IMG_1830.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;When your mittens are decorated, pin them onto the string with the mini clothes pins. I used a hemp string because I like the natural look, but you can use yarn, or ribbon or whatever you want. And that's it. Add as many mittens as you like to make the garland as long as you want and hang it up indoors over a door or window - somewhere it can be seen and admired.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BZJGjEZo000/TsvZrCGoikI/AAAAAAAAAG0/MGdRuFDKxdc/s1600/IMG_1832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BZJGjEZo000/TsvZrCGoikI/AAAAAAAAAG0/MGdRuFDKxdc/s320/IMG_1832.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;While I was getting the things ready for this craft, I thought of some other ideas for felt mittens:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make smaller mittens and glue a magnet to the back. Display on fridge or magnetic board.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make two matching mittens and attach to the ends of a string. Display over doorknobs or coat hooks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Attach a string and use as a Christmas tree decoration.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sew two mittens together and stuff with potpourri. Attach a string and hang.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-2379082369801767129?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/2379082369801767129/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=2379082369801767129&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/2379082369801767129" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/2379082369801767129" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/11/merry-mittens.html" title="Merry Mittens" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EPOiEK5bjLY/TsvYpH5vEnI/AAAAAAAAAGc/yANuxNKdNwA/s72-c/IMG_1828.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-1113987674189706010</id><published>2011-11-20T08:15:00.001-03:30</published><updated>2011-11-20T08:49:20.634-03:30</updated><title type="text">Goodbye, Dear Friend</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ka4Nk92GvY/TsjuFwnb7yI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Z8D3OWg8T54/s1600/jinker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ka4Nk92GvY/TsjuFwnb7yI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Z8D3OWg8T54/s200/jinker.jpg" width="189" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I know I said I would post on a regular basis, and I have a lot I want to post about, but a sad event has taken the wind out of my sails. Two weeks ago we lost our good buddy, Bo, a beautiful little mongrel who loved nothing better than to play outside with the kids on cool evenings, then curl up with them for story time before bed. He was quiet and gentle, and we all miss him dearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We miss the soggy teddy bears left in the hallway, the dog biscuit crumbs on the couch, and the happy waggy tail that met us whenever we came home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids are taking his loss especially hard. Why did he have to go? And they wondered, like little ones do, what will happen to Bo now that he is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zWwt_wsrVbQ/TsjviWWZrCI/AAAAAAAAAGU/IB6GEY1D7Wc/s1600/dogheaven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zWwt_wsrVbQ/TsjviWWZrCI/AAAAAAAAAGU/IB6GEY1D7Wc/s200/dogheaven.jpg" width="136" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I explained the best I could that Bo was sick, and that his body was tired and it was time for him to leave. It's okay to be sad, but we should remember Bo and talk about all the fun we had with him. This lead to a discussion about all the things that Bo loved, and what he would do in dog heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend introduced me to a wonderful book -&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Dog-Heaven-Cynthia-Rylant/dp/0590417010#_"&gt;Dog Heaven&lt;/a&gt; by Cynthia Rylant. In the past week, the kids have read it again and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;"When dogs go to Heaven, they don't need wings, because God knows that dogs love running best."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus starts this colourful book about all the things dogs can do in Dog Heaven. There are biscuits as far as the eye can see, geese to tease, and soft clouds to curl up on. Every dog has a home, and they can stay as long as they want. They will greet old friends when they arrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope so, I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote class="tr_bq"&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-1113987674189706010?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/1113987674189706010/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=1113987674189706010&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/1113987674189706010" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/1113987674189706010" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/11/goodbye-dear-friend.html" title="Goodbye, Dear Friend" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ka4Nk92GvY/TsjuFwnb7yI/AAAAAAAAAGE/Z8D3OWg8T54/s72-c/jinker.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-5243431487892452689</id><published>2011-11-02T12:44:00.001-02:30</published><updated>2011-11-02T12:50:15.306-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shower" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="planning" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="WTF?" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="advice" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby" /><title type="text">Shower? More like Deluge</title><content type="html">Ever get yourself into a situation that seems harmless at first, then spirals out of control? Yeah, I had one of those this week. But hey, it gave me something to blog about. How's that for ripping the silver lining right out of that cloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My situation started about six weeks ago. I found out some very good friends of ours are expecting. The Mommy-to-be's mother called me and asked if I would help host a baby shower. Sure, I'd love to help. Another friend, we'll call her Josie, would also be helping. She would get in contact with me to let me know the date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward a couple of weeks. They'd picked the date, it would be October 29th. Could I find a venue and book it? Sure, I said, and even though it was Halloween weekend, and a lot of places were booked for parties, I managed to find a good place - close to Mommy-to-be's house, and near a grocery store in case we needed extra supplies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tOJOOgMK08Y/TrFb4jLJ7DI/AAAAAAAAAF4/AocS0tmx9CQ/s1600/babystork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tOJOOgMK08Y/TrFb4jLJ7DI/AAAAAAAAAF4/AocS0tmx9CQ/s1600/babystork.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Soon I got an email from Josie outlining all the things Mommy-to-be did not want at her shower. This included games she thought were tacky, food she didn't like, and decorations she didn't want. I replied and said no problem, but did either of them have any suggestions as to what we should have? No, whatever I went with would be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the gentle whirlpool into which I had been sucked was starting to pull me in deeper. I could see it coming, but I couldn't get out. Swim, little Momster, swim!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story short, over the next week I put together party games and got the props ready, and I contacted Josie on several occasions so that we could go shopping for decorations and food. She couldn't make it on any of those days. I ended up going on my own. I knew that Mommy-to-be was planning a Sesame Street theme for the baby's room, so I ordered some cupcakes at the bakery near the venue that were decorated like Sesame Street characters. I asked Josie to pick them up on her way to the shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the day arrived and Mommy-to-be's mother and I showed up early to decorate. We had everything ready to go when the guests arrived. Josie showed up 30 minutes late - with no cupcakes. She forgot. I ran next door and got the cupcakes, as well as some extra cheese and crackers that Mommy-to-be thought we might need. Everything else went perfectly. All that printing, cutting, shopping, cooking and decorating came together nicely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the night, Mommy-to-be got up to make a little speech. She said how happy they were to share this joyous occasion with friends, thanked everyone for the gifts, and thanked her good friend Josie for all the work she did on the shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've got to be *M#F@! kidding me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is my question: How inappropriate would it be for me to send Josie a bill for half the shower expenses? Cast your vote in the poll on the left and help me resolve this situation in a way that is either socially graceful or will ensure that I will never be asked to do this again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-5243431487892452689?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/5243431487892452689/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=5243431487892452689&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/5243431487892452689" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/5243431487892452689" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/11/shower-more-like-deluge.html" title="Shower? More like Deluge" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tOJOOgMK08Y/TrFb4jLJ7DI/AAAAAAAAAF4/AocS0tmx9CQ/s72-c/babystork.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-9092849462709968230</id><published>2011-10-21T09:09:00.001-02:30</published><updated>2011-10-21T09:09:49.206-02:30</updated><title type="text">Monster Treat Bags</title><content type="html">Here's a great little craft for even the least crafty of us, and fun for parents and kids to do together. These treat bags are good for Halloween parties (or any party) or for the special little halloweenies that come trick or treating. My demo monster is pretty basic, but you can get as fancy as you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QujPCCEAx8k/TqFXSS9rBgI/AAAAAAAAAFU/yAYVRU7owqs/s1600/IMG_1787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QujPCCEAx8k/TqFXSS9rBgI/AAAAAAAAAFU/yAYVRU7owqs/s320/IMG_1787.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What you need:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Paper lunch bags&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;cellophane (or a heavy plastic food wrap)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Large googly eyes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;tape&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Small sharp scissors&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;glue&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;pencil&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lay the lunch bag out flat on the table and draw a monster mouth shape near the bottom. Make sure you leave some room at the edges (about 3/4 of an inch). Cut out the mouth with your scissors. Be careful not to cut the sides of the bag. It doesn't matter if the edges are ragged, this is a monster mouth after all.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once the mouth is open, cut a piece of cellophane big enough to cover the hole. Now you have to tape the cellophane inside the bag. This is the tricky part. Make sure all the edges are securely fastened so that the plastic doesn't come away from the mouth. One piece of tape on each side should do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_DC1PHfhDr4/TqFXempiFmI/AAAAAAAAAFc/DjuW-swwlR4/s1600/IMG_1792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_DC1PHfhDr4/TqFXempiFmI/AAAAAAAAAFc/DjuW-swwlR4/s320/IMG_1792.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next come the eyes. You can add as many eyes as you want. If you have different sizes it's fun to mix it up. This is something the kids like to help with. Just don't stick the eyes too close to the top. You want to leave room to fold and close the bag.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Lqi_Lympv6s/TqFXskuFKtI/AAAAAAAAAFk/FpAqpMwTXgY/s1600/IMG_1794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Lqi_Lympv6s/TqFXskuFKtI/AAAAAAAAAFk/FpAqpMwTXgY/s320/IMG_1794.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The kids can also decorate the bag any way they want. Use crayons, markers, bits of paper, or get fancy with glitter and sequins. Whatever you like. When the monster is finished, fill it with treats. Fold down the top and secure with tape, or you can use a hole punch and tie the bag together with yarn or raffia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7cW_jIioHTI/TqFX5lBLZPI/AAAAAAAAAFs/VeFLx7gLZ6U/s1600/IMG_1796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7cW_jIioHTI/TqFX5lBLZPI/AAAAAAAAAFs/VeFLx7gLZ6U/s320/IMG_1796.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not only do the kids have a fun treat bag, but they get a preview of the treats inside. You can do mini versions of these with paper candy bags.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just in case you don't want to fill them up with sugar, here are some ideas for non-candy treats:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;small packs of crayons&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;mini stampers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;stickers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;juice boxes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;glow sticks&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-9092849462709968230?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/9092849462709968230/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=9092849462709968230&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/9092849462709968230" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/9092849462709968230" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/10/monster-treat-bags.html" title="Monster Treat Bags" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QujPCCEAx8k/TqFXSS9rBgI/AAAAAAAAAFU/yAYVRU7owqs/s72-c/IMG_1787.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-2298345740609895454</id><published>2011-10-18T08:49:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-10-18T08:49:20.475-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school pictures" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="photos" /><title type="text">School Picture Day</title><content type="html">Today is picture day at school for my youngest kids. Also known as the day that mom and dad shell out big bucks for mug shots. That was the last few batches looked like - Jr. facing straight into the camera with a blank expression against a lovely bright rainbow background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UQLjPwgwR7s/Tp1fQqzRzvI/AAAAAAAAAFM/RwAol6wP_UE/s1600/photog.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UQLjPwgwR7s/Tp1fQqzRzvI/AAAAAAAAAFM/RwAol6wP_UE/s1600/photog.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It reminds me very much of the elementary school photos of yore. Mom would get my brother and I all cleaned up. She would have my hair done just right, have my brother's red curls tamed as well as she could. We wore uniforms back then, so what could go wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, let's see. There was the photo of me with my hair all sticking up on end, the tidy ponytail from that morning a sideways shrub on the side of my head. I had pulled my sweater off over my head. Who has time for zippers when you're six? Then there's the year I fell on the playground and had a nice fat lip for my photo. That was a keeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the masterpiece belongs to my brother. I wish I had a copy to show you. I think it was his first grade photo. His hair is a mess, the collar of his uniform shirt is all twisted and sticking up on one side. He has chocolate milk all over his mouth and spilled down the front of his shirt. To finish the effect, he has a glazed&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;duh&lt;/i&gt; look on his face. Best. Photo. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the high school it's a different story. Those photos all turn out lovely. How could they not with the touch-ups, and fancy backgrounds and soft focus. They are really good photos, and my oldest daughter is usually really happy with them. I don't know. I sort of miss the days when her school pictures had messy hair and toothless smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-2298345740609895454?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/2298345740609895454/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=2298345740609895454&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/2298345740609895454" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/2298345740609895454" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/10/school-picture-day.html" title="School Picture Day" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UQLjPwgwR7s/Tp1fQqzRzvI/AAAAAAAAAFM/RwAol6wP_UE/s72-c/photog.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-7156446337202580809</id><published>2011-10-14T09:32:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-10-14T09:32:04.904-02:30</updated><title type="text">Return of the BLOG</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eCEcgyQNDy8/Tpgj5Vir1SI/AAAAAAAAAFE/7Wxce2yrwYA/s1600/theblob.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eCEcgyQNDy8/Tpgj5Vir1SI/AAAAAAAAAFE/7Wxce2yrwYA/s200/theblob.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This morning my five year old came to me, wide eyed, after her ten year old brother told her about the scary movie he watched last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really! What was it?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wiggled her fingers and said in her spookiest voice: "The Blog."*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After some technical difficulties, I'm finally back and better than ever. Okay, that last part is a fib. I'm actually less than ever. Let me explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When this blog was first conceived, there were three Momsters coming up with the ideas and stories. By the time the blog went live, we were down to two. Now, there is one lonely Momster holding down the fort. That would be me. So while I am hoping to post on a regular basis, it may not be as regular as it once was. And no more procrastinating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The return of the Momster Blog comes at a good time. The best time of year. Autumn. Halloween. Apples and pumpkin spice. All the good stuff. I'm not generally a crafty person, but I've got some cute Halloween ideas to share. I'll get on that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right after my coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* &lt;i&gt;We watched the 1958 version of The Blob with our son. A good movie for older kids who want to be a little scared, but not too much. Although, I think &lt;/i&gt;The Blog&lt;i&gt; has some frightening possibilities as well.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-7156446337202580809?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/7156446337202580809/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=7156446337202580809&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/7156446337202580809" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/7156446337202580809" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/10/return-of-blog.html" title="Return of the BLOG" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eCEcgyQNDy8/Tpgj5Vir1SI/AAAAAAAAAFE/7Wxce2yrwYA/s72-c/theblob.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-8793661757103754945</id><published>2011-09-14T09:11:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-09-14T09:11:56.586-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="paper cuts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="back to school" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="paper" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school" /><title type="text">Paper Trail</title><content type="html">Hello friends, remember me? I'm sorry it's been a while, but you see I've been busy trying to dig my way out from under the mountains of paper that are the back-to-school notes. I'm a little tired from the sorting, and a little cranky from the paper cuts, but my living room is starting to look less like a land fill and more like a stationary store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GAlrgGekNLM/TnCSgBLTpuI/AAAAAAAAAFA/5-QzxTySrWU/s1600/paper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GAlrgGekNLM/TnCSgBLTpuI/AAAAAAAAAFA/5-QzxTySrWU/s1600/paper.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Let's see now, I've got this pile here that is for elementary school newsletters (I got the "welcome back" newsletter not once, but three times). This heap over here is from the high school. They request our cooperation in saving paper by signing up for email updates. It took them five pages to say this. I have signed these forms for three years now and I have not yet received one email newsletter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This stack over here is for registration forms. Careful, it topples easily. It took eight volunteers to get me out from under that pile on Monday. Health forms, school registration, after school permission slips, drama club, choir, running club, basketball,&amp;nbsp;canoeing&amp;nbsp;permission form - it's all stacked right here. I'd move them, but it's hard to do with these bandages on my fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These papers spread on my desk are the student handbooks and school policy updates. You can push those aside and have a seat. Careful there. That dark smudge? Oh no, that's not from the paper cuts. That's Merlot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just about done with all the&amp;nbsp;signatures. I have writer's cramp and a huge blue smudge on my hand that's either ink or a bruise. I'm not sure yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'd better get back to the sorting. I hope your back to school&amp;nbsp;transition&amp;nbsp;is going smoothly. Happy reading!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-8793661757103754945?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/8793661757103754945/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=8793661757103754945&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/8793661757103754945" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/8793661757103754945" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/09/paper-trail.html" title="Paper Trail" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GAlrgGekNLM/TnCSgBLTpuI/AAAAAAAAAFA/5-QzxTySrWU/s72-c/paper.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-423574768670093385</id><published>2011-09-08T09:11:00.001-02:30</published><updated>2011-09-08T09:13:25.322-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reading book recommendation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="education" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parents" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fun" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="farm animals" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title type="text">Book Recommendation: Pigs to the Rescue</title><content type="html">They say you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, but that's exactly what I did when I ordered &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pigs-Rescue-John-Himmelman/dp/0805086838"&gt;Pigs to the Rescue&lt;/a&gt;. It looked hilarious, something silly the kids would enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PFv3UwIxr94/TminEyl5JKI/AAAAAAAAAE8/z493pAFqmqg/s1600/pigsrescue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PFv3UwIxr94/TminEyl5JKI/AAAAAAAAAE8/z493pAFqmqg/s1600/pigsrescue.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Greenstalk family have&amp;nbsp;their&amp;nbsp;share of problems, from a broken down tractor to a kite in a tree. Luckily, they have some very helpful pigs. Did I say luckily? Well, maybe not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The illustrations in this book add to the hilarity, and the kids love looking for the sneaky snouts and tails that show the pigs are nearby and ready to help. And face it, you've always wanted to shout &lt;i&gt;Pigs to the Rescue!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the second book in John Himmelman's "to the rescue" series, falling between &lt;i&gt;Chickens to the Rescue&lt;/i&gt; and&lt;i&gt; Cows to the Rescue, &lt;/i&gt;though the books stand well on their own. Pigs to the Rescue is recommended for pre-school to grade two, but this is a fun book the whole family will enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-423574768670093385?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/423574768670093385/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=423574768670093385&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/423574768670093385" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/423574768670093385" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/09/book-recommendation-pigs-to-rescue.html" title="Book Recommendation: Pigs to the Rescue" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PFv3UwIxr94/TminEyl5JKI/AAAAAAAAAE8/z493pAFqmqg/s72-c/pigsrescue.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-7580090292452346471</id><published>2011-09-07T10:52:00.002-02:30</published><updated>2011-09-07T10:53:27.608-02:30</updated><title type="text">Back To School</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nRH4oIMFr84/TmdwBLjtSVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ecG5-RDpAbs/s1600/back_to_school.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nRH4oIMFr84/TmdwBLjtSVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ecG5-RDpAbs/s320/back_to_school.gif" width="231" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Early rise, lunches packed, book bags ready, clothes laid out, kids dressed, washed, and out the door to start a new year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a milestone year for us with one child starting first grade (first year of full days), one in the last year of elementary and one in the last year of high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have to open the windows. It must be dusty in here. My throat seems scratchy and there's something in my eye. Sniff...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's eerily quiet around here. The dog and cat are both sound asleep, well deserved after a summer of playing and hiding respectively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not quite sure what to do with myself today. Organize the cutlery? Polish the doorknobs?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-7580090292452346471?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/7580090292452346471/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=7580090292452346471&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/7580090292452346471" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/7580090292452346471" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/09/early-rise-lunches-packed-book-bags.html" title="Back To School" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nRH4oIMFr84/TmdwBLjtSVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ecG5-RDpAbs/s72-c/back_to_school.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-6265669129003623871</id><published>2011-09-01T10:54:00.002-02:30</published><updated>2011-09-01T10:59:26.875-02:30</updated><title type="text">Fred Penner Coming to Mile One</title><content type="html">&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;The Association of Childcare Administrators are putting off a children's carnival this fall. I don't have all the details yet, but one piece of news has me very excited:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fred Penner!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RHaHaSxSD2Q/Tl-G28gdCaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/-rjk1fCHohA/s1600/Fred-Penner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RHaHaSxSD2Q/Tl-G28gdCaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/-rjk1fCHohA/s200/Fred-Penner.jpg" width="196" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;As part of the Family Fun Fest, Fred Penner will be appearing at Mile One. The date is October 1st, and tickets go on sale tomorrow (Friday, September 2). Tickets are 28.25 + surcharge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Fred Penner was the last word in children's entertainment back when I was a wee lass. Who didn't love The Cat Came Back, Sandwiches, Word Bird, and that super cool hideout he had in the woods?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Other activities will include crafts, juggling, dancing and more. I'll add more details about the Family Fun Fest as they become available.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Momster&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;PS: Anyone remember this?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/3cjgNARNeqk/0.jpg"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3cjgNARNeqk&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" /&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266"  src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3cjgNARNeqk&amp;fs=1&amp;source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-6265669129003623871?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/6265669129003623871/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=6265669129003623871&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/6265669129003623871" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/6265669129003623871" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/09/fred-penner-coming-to-mile-one.html" title="Fred Penner Coming to Mile One" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RHaHaSxSD2Q/Tl-G28gdCaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/-rjk1fCHohA/s72-c/Fred-Penner.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-5765034050611237151</id><published>2011-08-24T08:21:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-08-24T08:21:41.401-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="explaining a gay relative" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="friends" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="children" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="questions" /><title type="text">How Do You Explain That?</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I ran into an old friend this week. She was with her three children, all under ten, beautiful little steps of stairs. She and her husband were very good friends of ours, and we spent a lot of time together before children came along and our social lives disappeared. Over the years I often wondered why we never kept in touch.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;While her kids wandered a short distance away, she told me she had tried to track us down on Facebook with no luck. She did manage to find some of our relatives. That’s when she asked the question she was so obviously itching to ask from the start, whispered behind her hand in a way made famous by paperback spies: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zz9zj13e_2E/TlQXFGBVdQI/AAAAAAAAAEs/Eke3ieJ24OQ/s1600/Explain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="195" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zz9zj13e_2E/TlQXFGBVdQI/AAAAAAAAAEs/Eke3ieJ24OQ/s200/Explain.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;“Is Hubby’s brother gay?”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Yes. He is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;It was her next question that caught me totally off guard.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;“How do you explain that?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I haven’t seen this woman in five years and this is where she wants to take this conversation? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Before I could answer, she went on with a monologue about how she couldn’t imagine trying to explain anything like that to her kids. When something “like that” came on TV she would rush to change the channel. She was trying to raise her kids with old fashioned morals and values, but it was hard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I took the hit to my values and morals and absorbed it like a pro. Perhaps she was expecting a sob story of family shame and denial, of how we were all so disappointed. I answered her question as simply as I could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;How do we explain that?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;We don’t. It just is.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Our kids don’t ask us why their uncles are together. To them it is no different than their other uncles and aunts, grandma and grandpa, mom and dad. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;It just is.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;And thank God for that. Thank God that my children will grow up believing that same sex relationships are equal, and that, as far as gender is concerned,&amp;nbsp;there is no right or wrong when it comes to love.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;It just is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;And if they ever do ask, that's the explanation. Plain and simple. And without a hint of scandal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;So we said our good-byes. I gave my regards to her family, and she told me to send her an email or look her up on Facebook. Then I watched her walk away with her three precious children.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;won’t be in touch. I remember now why we lost contact to begin with. I’m doing her a favour really. Her children would surely notice our lack of values and morals, and I wouldn’t want her to have to explain anything. I pray&amp;nbsp;that her children will never have to explain things to her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-5765034050611237151?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/5765034050611237151/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=5765034050611237151&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/5765034050611237151" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/5765034050611237151" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-do-you-explain-that.html" title="How Do You Explain That?" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zz9zj13e_2E/TlQXFGBVdQI/AAAAAAAAAEs/Eke3ieJ24OQ/s72-c/Explain.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-6318019069059842127</id><published>2011-08-23T13:21:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-08-23T13:21:09.568-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="education" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="children's books" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Pandas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reading" /><title type="text">Book Recommendation: Tracks of a Panda</title><content type="html">My youngest daughter has a wonderful fairy godmother who believes that books are the best gift (and I agree). The latest gift was a book called &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Tracks-Panda-Nick-Dowson/dp/0763631469"&gt;Tracks of a Panda&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt; by Nick Dowson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p_DIZTwNJwo/TlPJHSBd4NI/AAAAAAAAAEo/kVF4x2ko72w/s1600/tracks+panda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p_DIZTwNJwo/TlPJHSBd4NI/AAAAAAAAAEo/kVF4x2ko72w/s1600/tracks+panda.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The story follows a Mommy Giant Panda in her quest to find food and protect her new baby. Each page is beautifully and delicately illustrated by Yu Rong. My little one also enjoyed the facts about Giant Pandas that are included&amp;nbsp;beside the story. The text is simple but poetic, and is a joy to read aloud. A perfecting blending of fiction and non-fiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any child that is interested in animals will enjoy this book, especially children in the 1st - 3rd grade range. I highly recommend it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-6318019069059842127?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/6318019069059842127/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=6318019069059842127&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/6318019069059842127" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/6318019069059842127" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/08/book-recommendation-tracks-of-panda.html" title="Book Recommendation: Tracks of a Panda" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p_DIZTwNJwo/TlPJHSBd4NI/AAAAAAAAAEo/kVF4x2ko72w/s72-c/tracks+panda.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-3797332165467778605</id><published>2011-08-22T13:46:00.001-02:30</published><updated>2011-08-22T14:05:06.600-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="momories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vacation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="momster tales" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="summer" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="first kiss" /><title type="text">Momster Memory - First Kiss</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;All this talk of vacations, and having just returned from my own family trip, has stirred up some interesting memories. We had a lot of great family getaways when I was a kid, but the most memorable of all of these was the year I had my first kiss.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Our family vacation that year was a road trip to PEI. It was the year before seventh grade so I was smack dab in the middle of that awkward tween stage. I didn’t have braces, but I was growing out a bad perm. It had been a pretty rotten trip for me. Long drive, long ferry ride, annoying younger brother. You get the idea. I stepped in an ant nest during a picnic and my ankles were covered in bites. I got car sick for the first time in my life. There was sand in my hair.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My swimsuit had disappeared somewhere along the way and my mom took me to the nearby tourist mart to get another one. It was a horrible red and white striped one piece that made me look like a barber pole. Unfortunately, the white stripes on the suit became see-through when I hit the water. Fortunately, I had some sort of allergic reaction to the suit and broke out in hives. You may think this was unfortunate as well, but it got me out of wearing the hideous thing. I ended up just lounging at the side of the pool, watching the other kids.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnW4pAD2_c0/TlJ-oNK7RhI/AAAAAAAAAEk/nFuEug2Lz0U/s1600/swing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="199" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnW4pAD2_c0/TlJ-oNK7RhI/AAAAAAAAAEk/nFuEug2Lz0U/s200/swing.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;He was going to grade nine that year. He was tanned and handsome and looked just fine tossing the younger kids around in the water. He was the son of some of my parent’s friends, and much to my delight, we ended up getting tossed together (not literally, like the other kids). To the parents, it was a convenient babysitting situation. To me it was fate.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt; We were watching the younger kids one evening while all the parents went to dinner. There were seven of us crowded into one cabin. After a couple of hours of bed jumping and wrestling, the boys were finally asleep and I stepped out back for some fresh air and peace. It was a beautiful night, the sky full of stars. He came outside to push me on the swing. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;And then it happened. His lips were kind of hard, and I could feel the peach fuzz on his face. My heart was pounding, probably more from sheer terror than anything else. It lasted about three seconds. And that was it. My first kiss.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They say you never forget your first. It’s always special. And I still think about it now and then when the sky is full of stars. Or when I break out in hives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-3797332165467778605?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/3797332165467778605/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=3797332165467778605&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/3797332165467778605" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/3797332165467778605" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/08/momster-memory-first-kiss.html" title="Momster Memory - First Kiss" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qnW4pAD2_c0/TlJ-oNK7RhI/AAAAAAAAAEk/nFuEug2Lz0U/s72-c/swing.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-1197077536236163020</id><published>2011-08-21T11:56:00.001-02:30</published><updated>2011-08-21T12:14:07.590-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fail" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="momster tales" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="school" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lunches" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="recipes" /><title type="text">The Book of Lunchbox Fails</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The first day of school is only 2.5 weeks away, and my inboxes are overflowing with back to school tips. The best of these are the lunchbox recipes. With three picky eaters, I’ll take all the help I can get.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hnbRoj6Vh48/TlEVFc5cxOI/AAAAAAAAAEg/EhB-P0mr7Kk/s1600/nopeanuts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hnbRoj6Vh48/TlEVFc5cxOI/AAAAAAAAAEg/EhB-P0mr7Kk/s200/nopeanuts.jpg" width="189" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Now every year there is at least one recipe in each bunch that includes peanut butter. This surprises me. Is there a school on the planet that still allows peanut butter? I thought the stuff was only to be handled by hazmat teams. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;No matter, I skip the peanut butter crunchies and peanut brittle and focus on the other suggestions. But this year I got a&amp;nbsp;booklet with &lt;em&gt;5 lunch box ideas your kids will love.&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;Each one of them contained an ingredient guaranteed to send my kids to the principal’s office by way of the decontamination area.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Here are the offending suggestions:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Tuna and Veggie Sammies&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pro:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Tuna is fish, and fish is brain food &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Fail:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Tuna is fish and fish is forbidden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Sesame Seed Chicken Strips&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pro:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Healthier than the cafeteria strips, and easy to make ahead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fail:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Did you say sesame seeds. Yep, they’re on the list.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Egg Salad on whole grain crackers&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pro:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Again, easy to make ahead and have ready for lunch the next day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Fail:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Eggs are high on the list, a big no-no at this school.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Peanut Butter Banana Rolls&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pro:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Peanut butter and a banana rolled into a tortilla. What’s not to love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Fail:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Peanut butter and bananas are both on the forbidden list, so this one is a double whammy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Fresh Fruit Skewers&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pro:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Fun, healthy, and easy to make.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fail:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; The recipe contains watermelon and kiwi. Another double whammy, but at least this one can be replaced with less fatal foods, like grapes or other kinds of melon.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;In all, these lunch box tips were a bust, but I might tinker with them&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;to create versions that don't come with a side of anaphylaxis for some poor child. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;How about you? Do you have any lunchbox favourites for your kids? Are your schools strict when it comes to appropriate lunches?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/4928592981851923608-1197077536236163020?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/1197077536236163020/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=1197077536236163020&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/1197077536236163020" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/1197077536236163020" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/08/book-of-lunchbox-fails.html" title="The Book of Lunchbox Fails" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hnbRoj6Vh48/TlEVFc5cxOI/AAAAAAAAAEg/EhB-P0mr7Kk/s72-c/nopeanuts.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-6962913064847856492</id><published>2011-08-18T14:54:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-08-18T14:54:58.338-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="travel" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vacation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="not a family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="five" /><title type="text">Five is Not a Family</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’m a firm believer that every experience should be a learning experience. When you stop learning you stop growing, right? So what I learned on my vacation was this: Five is not a family. It might be a clan, or a gaggle, or a mob, or a boy band, but it is most definitely not a family.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kg0u3l1ZEXo/Tk1J4VKgJ1I/AAAAAAAAAEc/wrgSJrvxAcU/s1600/stickfamily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="165" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kg0u3l1ZEXo/Tk1J4VKgJ1I/AAAAAAAAAEc/wrgSJrvxAcU/s400/stickfamily.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now anyone out there with more than two kids probably already knows what I’m talking about. You go to a motel/hotel/campsite that advertises a family rate. Excellent. Come right in dear sir and madam and your one, two, three…oh dear. I’m sorry. The family rate only applies to families of four. You’ll have to pay extra. You’ll also have to pay for a cot as the room only has two double beds. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Off to the restaurant. How many? Five? Oh my. Well, you’ll have to wait an extra thirty minutes for us to push two tables together. There must be an extra chair around somewhere. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Only two can sit together on amusement park rides. Two plus two is four (too bad). &amp;nbsp;No groups greater than four on the mini golf course (drat). The waterpark has a family rate (yay!) but it only includes four towels (boo!). It became a running gag during our vacation, and by the fifth day our son joked that we should vote someone out of the family just to keep things simple.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;In the end we decided to keep everyone and put up with the inconvenience of being a herd rather than a family. More is merrier, even if it does cost extra.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-6962913064847856492?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/6962913064847856492/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=6962913064847856492&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/6962913064847856492" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/6962913064847856492" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/08/five-is-not-family.html" title="Five is Not a Family" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kg0u3l1ZEXo/Tk1J4VKgJ1I/AAAAAAAAAEc/wrgSJrvxAcU/s72-c/stickfamily.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><georss:featurename>Division No. 1, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada</georss:featurename><georss:point>47.30903441513908 -52.80029334375001</georss:point><georss:box>45.57149241513908 -54.010529343750015 49.04657641513908 -51.59005734375001</georss:box></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-2741044379819925579</id><published>2011-08-17T11:30:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-08-17T11:30:35.064-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="wet wipes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="car trip" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vacation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dogs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="outings" /><title type="text">Car Trip Must Have</title><content type="html">I've been off the grid for a little bit. 'Tis the season of vacation and we were car tripping across the&amp;nbsp;maritimes, camping and having a grand old time with the family. A lot of work and preparation, but it's worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is a very precise formula when packing for a long car trip. There is much debate about what should be included, but there is one thing that my car never leaves home without - &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;wet wipes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FuMBrPqa6Os/TkvIllo3AsI/AAAAAAAAAEU/J3wAjjFdUbU/s1600/RedCar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="163" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FuMBrPqa6Os/TkvIllo3AsI/AAAAAAAAAEU/J3wAjjFdUbU/s320/RedCar.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have two packages of wet wipes on hand at all times, one in the glove box and one in the pocket of the back seat. There's also a small pack in my purse. They're good for everything. Kid gets chocolate all over hands and face - wet wipes! Teen spills Dr. Pepper all over the seat - wet wipes! Dog upchucks in the back - wet wipes! Mom has a meltdown on exit 82 - wet wipes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I might forget to bring toothbrushes, pajamas, or earplugs on the trip, but I will never forget wet wipes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What's your never forget car item?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-2741044379819925579?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/2741044379819925579/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=2741044379819925579&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/2741044379819925579" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/2741044379819925579" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/08/car-trip-must-have.html" title="Car Trip Must Have" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FuMBrPqa6Os/TkvIllo3AsI/AAAAAAAAAEU/J3wAjjFdUbU/s72-c/RedCar.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-411969427501439583</id><published>2011-07-27T10:00:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-07-27T10:00:48.199-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humour" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nauseous" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="travel" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="plans" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sickness" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nauseated" /><title type="text">Down for the Count</title><content type="html">Ahh, that Robbie Burns. He knew what he was talking about when he spoke of the schemes of mice and men. Does anyone ever have their plans go exactly right? Anyone? Show of hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many simple and spectacular ways a family's scheduled events can go asunder, but nothing beats a stomach bug for efficiency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c4FPh4e5VBQ/TjACeo09s2I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/tcW1PIgXhMw/s1600/bug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c4FPh4e5VBQ/TjACeo09s2I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/tcW1PIgXhMw/s110/bug.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;* Warning! Stop reading here if you:&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; - are emetophobic&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; - are faint of heart&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; - have a low "ick" tolerance&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; - are not at least this tall&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We planned for a nice long weekend visiting the in-laws around the bay. The weather forecast was good, and we had visions of hikes and kayaks dancing in our heads. By Wednesday evening we had everything packed and ready to hit the road very early the next morning so we could be there by noon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our littlest one woke crying on Wednesday night, mere hours before we planned to leave. She didn't know what was wrong, but climbed into bed with mama and daddy to make it all better. Probably just a bad dream, we thought, until the leaned over the side of the bed and upchucked everything she ate in the past week. So we cleaned, and comforted, and got a bucket for the bedside just in time for her to yell "MOM! HOLD MY HAIR!" which I continued to do for the next six hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By morning she was bright as a button again, so although we were hours behind schedule, we pushed ahead with our plans. We arrived just before dark. We lost a day, but we'd make do with the time we had left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vf4hr2S3fgw/TjACCTGlLzI/AAAAAAAAAEM/GsevzqY7er4/s150/quarantine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vf4hr2S3fgw/TjACCTGlLzI/AAAAAAAAAEM/GsevzqY7er4/s200/quarantine.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;By the middle of day two, the boy was complaining of an upset tummy. An hour later we were scrubbing the bathroom floor and he was quarantined to the room at the end of the hall. I started the washing machine while Hubby went to the store for ginger ale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 8:00 I started to feel a little woozy. &lt;i&gt;It's been a long day&lt;/i&gt;, I thought. My head ached. &lt;i&gt;All that scrubbing&lt;/i&gt;, I said. &lt;i&gt;Did I feel nauseated&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;i&gt;or was it just in my head&lt;/i&gt;, I wondered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glurk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the weekend, the only ones left unscathed were Hubby and his dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I learned this weekend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Five year olds can throw up way more than you would think&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You might think the worst is over. It's not. Don't say it out loud.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If your flight is cancelled and you decide to wait in the airport closet, don't talk to the guy selling maple syrup (This may have been a dream).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;* Nauseated&lt;i&gt; means feeling sick. &lt;/i&gt;Nauseous&lt;i&gt; means sickening. If you tell me you are nauseous, I might laugh, and that wouldn't be nice.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-411969427501439583?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/411969427501439583/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=411969427501439583&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/411969427501439583" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/411969427501439583" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/07/down-for-count.html" title="Down for the Count" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c4FPh4e5VBQ/TjACeo09s2I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/tcW1PIgXhMw/s72-c/bug.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-7220311234046188929</id><published>2011-07-20T09:00:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-07-20T09:00:04.096-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Lester's Farm Market" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="farm" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="activities" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="things to do" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="farm animals" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="summer" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="flowers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baby animals" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="animals" /><title type="text">Lester's Farm Market</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Thought that Lesters farm was only for pumpkins? Think again my friends. Autumn is a great time to visit - the animals, corn maze, and pumpkin patch will keep the little ones entertained. But summer is also a great time to drop by. Here's a list of reasons why you should go right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nDG_aJJk9ak/TiXqJkiAzlI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Vvbt7OGS0P8/s160/strawberries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nDG_aJJk9ak/TiXqJkiAzlI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Vvbt7OGS0P8/s320/strawberries.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Reason #1 - Strawberries&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Juicy, sweet, and oh so good. There is nothing better than farm fresh strawberries. Put them on cereal, or on waffles, or smother them&amp;nbsp;in rich, creamy chocolate. Have a whole bowl of those with a glass of wine....what was I talking about? Oh yes, strawberries. The kids love them. Come mid-July you can even pick your own, which is always great fun.&amp;nbsp;Personally, I like to have that part done for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Reason #2 - The Greenhouses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2pP99Zm9C6k/TiXqu7JPDhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/RwYCS43hlvs/s160/IMG_1090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2pP99Zm9C6k/TiXqu7JPDhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/RwYCS43hlvs/s320/IMG_1090.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The greenhouses at Lester's farm are teeming with plants and flowers of all kinds. If you're looking for flowers for your garden, chances are you'll find it here. The flowering baskets are gorgeous. And there are all sorts of vegetable plants if you are that way inclined. The kids love to pick out flowers for our front garden. Choices are usually based on the ones with the weirdest names. It makes for a good reading exercise too. If they can read Astilbe or Helianthemum then come September &lt;strong&gt;Go Dog Go&lt;/strong&gt; should be a snap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IrAWcyjJd-s/TiXq7FhLutI/AAAAAAAAAEI/TYsjhWh73zs/s160/IMG_1103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IrAWcyjJd-s/TiXq7FhLutI/AAAAAAAAAEI/TYsjhWh73zs/s320/IMG_1103.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Reason #3 - Baby Animals&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The farm animals are always a big hit, but the baby animals are extra squeee worthy. Bunnies,&amp;nbsp;calves, kids (the goat kind), and lambs all clamber for attention and food. The baby goats are super cute because they looks like they should be evil, you know, with the whole cloven hoof thing, but the only evil thing is how cute they are. Just make sure the little ones wash their hands before they go inside for ice cream. Baby germs are just as gross as grown up germs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter your reasons, getting out to the farm is a great way to cure the mid-summer blahs, and prevent a full week of "MomI'mboredMomI'mboredMomI'mboredMomI'mbored..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: #0b5394;"&gt;Don't live around here?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out your local petting farms/zoos, or U-Pick farms for some summer fun. Another great choice is a local farmers market.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-7220311234046188929?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/7220311234046188929/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=7220311234046188929&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/7220311234046188929" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/7220311234046188929" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/07/lesters-farm-market.html" title="Lester's Farm Market" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nDG_aJJk9ak/TiXqJkiAzlI/AAAAAAAAAEA/Vvbt7OGS0P8/s72-c/strawberries.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-8417776534745814662</id><published>2011-07-18T11:50:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-07-18T11:50:27.076-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="storytelling" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lying" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fibs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="children" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="problem solving" /><title type="text">Storytelling or Lying?</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;“I’m going to have a new baby brother or sister.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;My husband and I nodded and listened as our daughter’s friend, Amy, explained that her mom would soon be going to the hospital to get the baby. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;When she left hubby asked “Is her mom pregnant?” I shrugged. She didn’t look like it, but it was possible. As time passed, however, it was obvious that the new baby was just a story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-llSnqyN1b9s/TiRAWnLvwhI/AAAAAAAAAD4/WWJt9HPywfY/s1600/storytelling.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-llSnqyN1b9s/TiRAWnLvwhI/AAAAAAAAAD4/WWJt9HPywfY/s320/storytelling.png" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;It didn’t take long to figure out that Amy had a habit of “telling stories”. That’s how her mom described it. “Amy is such a story teller.” The new baby was one of her favourites, but she had no shortage of tall tales. She had our neighbour’s child convinced that her thumb fell off and she had to get a new plastic one. One day she ran home crying because the kids refused to believe that her stuffed toy dog was real and only sleeping. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;These stories would be harmless if not for Amy’s insistence that they were absolutely true. Most children have very active imaginations at that age. It is important to let children create and make-believe. It is equally important to make sure they realize the difference between “pretending” and “lying”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;One morning, shortly after we got our new puppy, we met Amy and her mom, Linda, at the bus stop. Amy started in to tell us about the new puppy she was getting. Linda said nothing, but winked at me over her daughter’s head. It was obvious that Amy was spinning another one of her “stories” and I was to play along. This would have been a perfect opportunity for Linda to gently tell her daughter that making up stories is ok, as long as you don’t lead people to believe them to be true. It could be done in a way to spare the child the embarrassment of being caught in a lie. “That’s a good make-believe dog! If I were going to have a dog it would have brown spots all over and a fluffy tail.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Linda’s reluctance to address her daughter’s habit did not help her child. While her stories may have seemed harmless, they were detrimental to her relationships with other children. Kids don’t like to be fooled, and they won’t play along the way adults sometimes will. It was also difficult for Amy when the children didn’t believe her.&amp;nbsp;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Young imaginations are a beautiful thing, but sometimes kids need a little help reining them in. Telling stories is a wonderful talent to cultivate, and helping children develop a healthy imagination is fun, not only for kids, but for everyone.&amp;nbsp;&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/4928592981851923608-8417776534745814662?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/8417776534745814662/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=8417776534745814662&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/8417776534745814662" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/8417776534745814662" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/07/storytelling-or-lying.html" title="Storytelling or Lying?" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-llSnqyN1b9s/TiRAWnLvwhI/AAAAAAAAAD4/WWJt9HPywfY/s72-c/storytelling.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-4584792955139320084</id><published>2011-07-15T07:21:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-07-15T07:21:00.609-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parents" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dads" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shopping" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jeers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cheers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="supermarket" /><title type="text">Friday Cheer at the Supermarket</title><content type="html">I'm in a really good mood today so there is no jeer. We really don't need one for the supermarket edition do we? I mean we've all been there, or at least seen it: Kids screaming for candy, eating the grapes, dropping jars of &amp;nbsp;pickles on the floor, performing death defying stunts in the carts - and the parents standing by as if they were watching an infomercial. There's one at every market. No need to go into the gory details. But on the flip side:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_TjSS5Iy-M/Th2lO-2UxwI/AAAAAAAAAD0/T5FSc5vilNQ/s1600/thumbsup-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_TjSS5Iy-M/Th2lO-2UxwI/AAAAAAAAAD0/T5FSc5vilNQ/s1600/thumbsup-1.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cheers&lt;/b&gt;: To the mom and her little one at the local market. Small child sitting quietly and buckled into the cart. She wasn't crying, whining, or trying to wiggle free. Why? Because you made her part of the process. She helped choose the type of cereal, cookies, jam, helped pick the fruit and veggies. When I got close enough I could see a genius touch - a shopping list that had not only the words, but pictures of the items. The little one happily did her big girl job of reading the list with help from the visual aids. Smart move on the part of mommy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Do you have a shopping do or don't to share? We'd love to hear it.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-4584792955139320084?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/4584792955139320084/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=4584792955139320084&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/4584792955139320084" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/4584792955139320084" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/07/friday-cheer-at-supermarket.html" title="Friday Cheer at the Supermarket" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_TjSS5Iy-M/Th2lO-2UxwI/AAAAAAAAAD0/T5FSc5vilNQ/s72-c/thumbsup-1.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-8868664455314521583</id><published>2011-07-13T10:05:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-07-13T10:05:39.500-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="outdoors" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fun" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="summer" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="picnic" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="food" /><title type="text">Picnics</title><content type="html">After almost two weeks of computer troubles, I'm finally back online. It couldn't have happened at a better time though. We finally got the weather we've been waiting for. Beautiful and sunny and warm. Perfect weather for outdoor fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XZLTKGLidzI/Th2OpfhGXGI/AAAAAAAAADs/xaCNAn2eYyo/s1600/Picnic+Basket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="170" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XZLTKGLidzI/Th2OpfhGXGI/AAAAAAAAADs/xaCNAn2eYyo/s200/Picnic+Basket.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;One of our favourite things to do on a warm summer day is pack up some grub and head out for a picnic. There is a knack to knowing just what to pack for a picnic, and after a few years of trial and error, we have it down to a science.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Food&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When packing for a picnic, it's important to keep in mind ease of serving and eating the food, as well as food safety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few of our favourite picnic spots require a long walk from the car to the picnic grounds. We don't want to lug any more items than absolutely necessary. We try to keep it down to one cooler that can hold all the food. Potato salad is considered a picnic staple, but because it requires extra dishes and doesn't do well in the heat, we keep it off our picnic menu. The following is a&amp;nbsp;typical momster&amp;nbsp;picnic:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Baked ham and apple sandwiches on oatmeal molasses bread&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pasta salad with&amp;nbsp;Italian&amp;nbsp;dressing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chocolate chip cookies or rice krispie squares&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lemonade (served from large mason jars)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Snacks such as goldfish crackers, cherries, watermelon, etc.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Food is packed&amp;nbsp;among&amp;nbsp;layers of ice packs to make sure everything stays cool and fresh. I will also throw in some frozen juice pouches which do double duty as extra ice packs and nice cold drinks once they start to melt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fun&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once again, we don't want to carry unnecessary items to our picnic place, so we try to keep our extra supplies to one bag or basket. Sunscreen and bug spray are essential. Plates, cups, utensils, and napkins are all packed and kept to only what is necessary. This leaves room for some extra fun things to&amp;nbsp;help&amp;nbsp;make the day memorable for the kiddies. We usually pack something to play catch, a&amp;nbsp;Frisbee&amp;nbsp;or ball of some sort. I like to toss some surprises into the bag to take out during the afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bubble mix and wands&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jump ropes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bug/guppy/frog catching nets (we make sure all the critters are set free)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;For evening picnics we bring along glow sticks and sparklers for night time fun&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picnics are a great way to get the most out of summer family time. These are the times your kids will remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Do you have any picnic tips or recipes to share? We'd love to hear them.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-8868664455314521583?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/8868664455314521583/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=8868664455314521583&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/8868664455314521583" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/8868664455314521583" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/07/picnics.html" title="Picnics" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XZLTKGLidzI/Th2OpfhGXGI/AAAAAAAAADs/xaCNAn2eYyo/s72-c/Picnic+Basket.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-4323585396468036792</id><published>2011-07-04T08:56:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-07-04T08:56:33.979-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="teens" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="understanding" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bad day" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="platitudes" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="that mom" /><title type="text">A Bad Day is OK</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;"I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j1b_rTl_8p8/ThGjKYeUCwI/AAAAAAAAADo/C3eWVNtNwqI/s1600/cloud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="191" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j1b_rTl_8p8/ThGjKYeUCwI/AAAAAAAAADo/C3eWVNtNwqI/s200/cloud.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a favourite saying of my sister-in-law. She quotes it whenever her teenage son or daughter is moping about the house. She used it a few days ago when her sixteen year old son was in a grump because his bike chain broke and ruined his plans to join his friends. This day he was frustrated enough to have an answer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Mom, I get what you're saying, and I feel bad for the guy with no feet. But it also really sucks to have no shoes."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had to agree with my nephew.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Ahh, the carefree days of youth. No worries, no stress. Just fun, fun, fun. Right?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think we too easily forget what it's like to be a teen. They may not have the worries of a mortgage, or car payments, or a full time job, but their problems are real. We're all entitled to a bad day. Knowing someone else has it worse may encourage empathy, but it doesn't cancel out how your teen feels right now. A little understanding goes a lot further than platitudes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bad days happen to us all. Give your teen a break. And maybe a wide berth.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-4323585396468036792?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/4323585396468036792/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=4323585396468036792&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/4323585396468036792" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/4323585396468036792" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/07/bad-day-is-ok.html" title="A Bad Day is OK" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-j1b_rTl_8p8/ThGjKYeUCwI/AAAAAAAAADo/C3eWVNtNwqI/s72-c/cloud.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-8153365308342357087</id><published>2011-06-24T08:57:00.001-02:30</published><updated>2011-06-24T08:57:00.656-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parents" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="movies" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="jeers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cheers" /><title type="text">Cheers and Jeers: At the Movies</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The weather here in the Capital City has been the pits, so we've been looking for alternate ways to keep the kiddies occupied (and get out of the house ourselves). Seems like everyone is heading to the cinemas to avoid the rain and cold.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--OjxEvoTfuY/TgM0yGYMaWI/AAAAAAAAADY/LnhFjX0IPQI/s1600/thumbsup-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--OjxEvoTfuY/TgM0yGYMaWI/AAAAAAAAADY/LnhFjX0IPQI/s1600/thumbsup-1.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cheers&lt;/strong&gt; to the parents making movie night family night. You got your kids settled in nice and early, made sure they went to the washroom, and gave them their treats once they were comfortably seated. You kept them entertained until the movie started. When the movie was over you cleaned up your mess, everyone taking their own trash to the exit. You took the time to ask your kids what they liked best about the movie, and laughed together about your favourite parts. It was family movie night done right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HupcM_i6YL4/TgM02leIrII/AAAAAAAAADc/JVwsAtOr9ws/s1600/thumbsdown-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HupcM_i6YL4/TgM02leIrII/AAAAAAAAADc/JVwsAtOr9ws/s1600/thumbsdown-1.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jeers&lt;/strong&gt; to the parents who brought the four year old to the evening showing of &lt;em&gt;Pirates of the Caribbean&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp;The movie was much too long and much too late, not to mention inappropriate, for a small child.&amp;nbsp;At first she was merely bored and fidgety. You made no attempt to keep her in her seat, which was probably just as well. Soon she was frightened and started to cry, but still you stayed. Finally, she was tired and whining loudly that she wanted to go home. The movie was just about over when she nodded off in her seat. Next time, why not spend the extra money on a babysitter and rent an age appropriate movie so that your little one can have a fun evening of her own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Have a movie "do" or "do not" to share? We'd love to hear it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-8153365308342357087?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/8153365308342357087/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=8153365308342357087&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/8153365308342357087" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/8153365308342357087" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/06/cheers-and-jeers-at-movies.html" title="Cheers and Jeers: At the Movies" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--OjxEvoTfuY/TgM0yGYMaWI/AAAAAAAAADY/LnhFjX0IPQI/s72-c/thumbsup-1.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-4589537966108517156</id><published>2011-06-23T12:36:00.000-02:30</published><updated>2011-06-23T12:36:24.885-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pros and cons" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="education" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="parenting" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Homeschooling" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="learning" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="this mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="experience" /><title type="text">Why Homeschooling is Not For Me</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rEPYHY5qIXc/TgNQgQghPlI/AAAAAAAAADg/yhWitPlTY-I/s1600/bookstack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rEPYHY5qIXc/TgNQgQghPlI/AAAAAAAAADg/yhWitPlTY-I/s200/bookstack.jpg" width="171" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I was at an event a few nights ago and some of the women seated at my table were talking about resources for homeschooling parents. Until then, I hadn’t even realized that homeschooling was an option here in the province. So at the risk of looking like a Nosy Nellie, I horned in on the conversation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;It turned out three of the moms homeschooled their children. It was interesting to listen to their experiences, and I learned a few things that evening. Mainly that homeschooling is not for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Let me break it down:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"&gt;Organization.&lt;/b&gt; As I said when&amp;nbsp;we first started this blog, organization is not one of my strengths. In order to be a homeschooling parent, you’ve got to be ultra organized. Not only do you have to run the daily household nonsense, but you are totally responsible for your child’s formal education. This means hours of research, planning, and organizing. Some mornings I have a hard time just remembering to feed the dog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"&gt;School teaches more than curriculum&lt;/b&gt;. We’re lucky that we live in an area with excellent schools. The teachers are wonderful, and the quality and range of education is second to none. But there are things my kids learn at school that are not found in textbooks. They learn social skills. They learn to be independent. They learn responsibility and organization skills (and those I certainly can’t teach at home). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;One of the mothers that evening said she decided to homeschool because she wanted her child to have a more faith based education. Fair enough. For me, that is another reason not to home school. I went to a Catholic school in a very Catholic area. I knew all about my culture and faith, but knew nothing of others. I want my kids to learn about many cultures and religions. I was them to experience them through others with different beliefs and traditions. Granted, St. John’s is not the most diverse place, but it’s a heck of a lot more diverse than our house. And on the flip side of that, I think my kids have something to offer as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-woqKLV-oGco/TgNQvBV5KUI/AAAAAAAAADk/43_1RKnC0kA/s1600/schoolroadsign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-woqKLV-oGco/TgNQvBV5KUI/AAAAAAAAADk/43_1RKnC0kA/s250/schoolroadsign.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"&gt;Parent does not equal teacher. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;While the mothers I spoke with had some very good points, one of the moms said something that I did not agree with at all. Her opinion was, “I am the most qualified to teach my own kids.” Being their mother might mean you know your kids the best (and this is not always the case either), but it does not mean you are the most qualified to teach them. Do you hold degrees in math, history, science, social studies, English, and literature? In education? Maybe, but I’d guess not. I wouldn’t even attempt to teach my teenager chemistry or math. Heck, I wouldn’t attempt to teach my ten year old math. Even if you did have the knowledge base to teach all these subjects, there’s no guarantee that your methods are the best ones, even for your own children. My father was a brilliant man, and a very good teacher, but his style of explaining French and math just didn’t work for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I enjoy reading and discussing books with my kids, and helping them write stories and poems, but I want to do it as their mom, not as their teacher. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"&gt;I need time away from my kids. &lt;/b&gt;I’m a stay-at-home parent. 98% of my day involves doing things for other people. I need that 2% for myself, my own interests, my own sanity. I love my kids dearly, but those few hours each day when they are at school give me a chance to do other things; housework, errands, and yes, selfish “me” stuff too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"&gt;My kids need time away from me. &lt;/b&gt;Even more important than the above, my kids need space to grow and become their own people. I don’t want to be a helicopter mom, with my fingers in every aspect of their lives. The need to play, learn, and grow, without my interference. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;I believe a good education extends beyond the classroom, beyond books. The experiences they will have at school help to prepare them for the real world. Will they get bullied? Maybe. Will they make mistakes? Without a doubt. But the experience they&amp;nbsp;get from those mistakes&amp;nbsp;is a far better teacher than I could ever hope to be. C.S. Lewis said it best: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;“Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn.”&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think? Is homeschooling for you? Do you homeschool? Tell us your side of the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-4589537966108517156?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/4589537966108517156/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=4589537966108517156&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/4589537966108517156" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/4589537966108517156" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/06/why-homeschooling-is-not-for-me.html" title="Why Homeschooling is Not For Me" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rEPYHY5qIXc/TgNQgQghPlI/AAAAAAAAADg/yhWitPlTY-I/s72-c/bookstack.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4928592981851923608.post-4401605527350529465</id><published>2011-06-22T10:05:00.001-02:30</published><updated>2011-06-22T10:05:18.456-02:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mending" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sewing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Rusty" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Bad Dog" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dogs" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="toys" /><title type="text">The Creation of Frankenpuppy</title><content type="html">Rusty has been in our family for a long time. For ten years he was a bedtime favourite, well cared for and in very good shape for a puppy his age. He used to look something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aPwsXx0iqc4/Tft2ffxVlGI/AAAAAAAAACI/JwD9BOtow1g/s1600/rusty1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aPwsXx0iqc4/Tft2ffxVlGI/AAAAAAAAACI/JwD9BOtow1g/s200/rusty1.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then along came Bad Dog. Bad Dog has only been with us for a short time. For ten months she has been terrorizing the household, and especially the stuffed animals, with her dripping jaws of destruction. We all took precautions to prevent tragedy. Bedroom doors were kept closed, favourite toys were stored in hard to reach places. Then it happened. One day, Rusty was left alone and&amp;nbsp;vulnerable&amp;nbsp;on the arm of the couch. It all happened so fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spare you the gruesome photos of the aftermath. Rusty was in horrible shape. Seams were split, one ear was chewed completely in half. And his face. Oh, his poor little face. His snout was chewed to pieces, all the stuffing exposed. It was the stuff of nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, Rusty needed some major reconstructive surgery. Now, I'd mended a torn foot or two, replaced a few button eyes, but this...I didn't even know where to begin. But then the crying and the begging started. "I just can't sleep without Rusty" was enough to send me in search of some rust coloured thread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first stage of the surgery involved repairing the extensive damage to Rusty's snout. There really wasn't much left to work with. The edges were ragged and still stiff with dried slobber. I pieced it all back as best I could, and stitched some shape into his little face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bd_wmvu-0kI/Tft6NxHNbaI/AAAAAAAAACM/hVoh6uB6xDg/s1600/rusty.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bd_wmvu-0kI/Tft6NxHNbaI/AAAAAAAAACM/hVoh6uB6xDg/s320/rusty.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Then the second round began. I tidied all the little holes and lumpy spots, stitched up his side and fixed his ear. There wasn't much we could do there, the bottom half was gone, but at least there is no gaping hole.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;The hardest part was giving Rusty a new nose. He had a cute little button nose once. It was shiny and smooth. Then it was gobbled up with slobbery glee by Bad Dog. So now Rusty has a hand sewn nose. It's different, but he'll get used to it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9qc9ucNW2bQ/TgHgsV3bU7I/AAAAAAAAADU/twk8xCERJH0/s1600/rusty2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="279" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9qc9ucNW2bQ/TgHgsV3bU7I/AAAAAAAAADU/twk8xCERJH0/s320/rusty2.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Rusty, all mended and fresh and clean, resides on a the highest shelf in the safest bedroom. Bad Dog looks up at him, licking her chops. I wonder how much it would cost to put in a motion sensitive laser perimeter?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4928592981851923608-4401605527350529465?l=themomstertales.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/feeds/4401605527350529465/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4928592981851923608&amp;postID=4401605527350529465&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/4401605527350529465" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4928592981851923608/posts/default/4401605527350529465" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://themomstertales.blogspot.com/2011/06/creation-of-frankenpuppy.html" title="The Creation of Frankenpuppy" /><author><name>momstertales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11063026487571678627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="27" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_5Hd3ujdH4/TeUZ7AeGzzI/AAAAAAAAABE/vVD5sKmSiik/s220/momstericon.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aPwsXx0iqc4/Tft2ffxVlGI/AAAAAAAAACI/JwD9BOtow1g/s72-c/rusty1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>

