<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122</id><updated>2024-08-29T18:36:15.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>simply genius</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-1380852156057818365</id><published>2011-06-15T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T13:52:39.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confrontation...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz19kcxjrGyGtu0CmepvnZD8PK1Eq5qyUL69oABlG0-XzLyy8IHnk7LTDgDkJtf4ljCf9F4Rp_00lxZvLjkns36OV0yMzooKyXD3HG7_bgerOujrZDEZ80D2zg_UsZVGmIJTSySY_DZ60/s1600/parking_lot.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618552295636798210&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz19kcxjrGyGtu0CmepvnZD8PK1Eq5qyUL69oABlG0-XzLyy8IHnk7LTDgDkJtf4ljCf9F4Rp_00lxZvLjkns36OV0yMzooKyXD3HG7_bgerOujrZDEZ80D2zg_UsZVGmIJTSySY_DZ60/s320/parking_lot.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dear receding-hair line, ponytail-guy,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I came out of Wal-Mart and noticed you had decided to park 1 1/2 feet over the yellow line, I was irritated. When I realized there wasn&#39;t even enough space to fit my hips between our two vehicles, I was pissed. When you came out of Wal-Mart and noticed me patiently waiting to ream your ass and arrogantly made the quip about how it is difficult getting your big truck in these tiny parking spaces, I thought I might blow a gasket. Your lucky I got the chance to confront you to your face. Had I wrote you a nice love letter about how much I appreciated your gesture, it might have gone something like:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Dear Asshole,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thanks for deciding I didn’t need to buckle my screaming child in his car seat today. I’m sure he will very much appreciate that. It’s not my fault your driving a truck, three sizes too big for you. I’m fairly positive that $5 footlong that you just had to have, does not need to be toted around in anything more than a mid-sized sedan. You should probably look into getting a vehicle that fits your driving abilities.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thanks,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bitter.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/1380852156057818365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/06/confrontation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/1380852156057818365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/1380852156057818365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/06/confrontation.html' title='Confrontation...'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz19kcxjrGyGtu0CmepvnZD8PK1Eq5qyUL69oABlG0-XzLyy8IHnk7LTDgDkJtf4ljCf9F4Rp_00lxZvLjkns36OV0yMzooKyXD3HG7_bgerOujrZDEZ80D2zg_UsZVGmIJTSySY_DZ60/s72-c/parking_lot.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-7526542255719238513</id><published>2011-06-02T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T21:26:17.428-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who am I to be brilliant?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qz3ISWDsdwawpPxgDk5XteWW8ZlnLawbFL735HdpQM5wyVs3eJsRWZX4TtiYBeCpPGmRF3qXWssIvVkkNlnjK7NAJJYYu0DhP5r5RbKTjrbflFZRlgUBUxZInjONNBcCV9RJg0G0_pA/s1600/197534_552258862728_107703823_31839438_6925134_n.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613844791851573346&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qz3ISWDsdwawpPxgDk5XteWW8ZlnLawbFL735HdpQM5wyVs3eJsRWZX4TtiYBeCpPGmRF3qXWssIvVkkNlnjK7NAJJYYu0DhP5r5RbKTjrbflFZRlgUBUxZInjONNBcCV9RJg0G0_pA/s320/197534_552258862728_107703823_31839438_6925134_n.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone fantastic uplifted me with a brilliant quote today, so naturally I thought I would share-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&quot;Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, &#39;Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?&#39; Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won&#39;t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It&#39;s not just in some of us; it&#39;s in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others&quot; -Maryanne Williamson.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, don&#39;t you feel better after reading that? I did. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/7526542255719238513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/06/who-am-i-to-be-brilliant.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/7526542255719238513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/7526542255719238513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/06/who-am-i-to-be-brilliant.html' title='Who am I to be brilliant?'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_qz3ISWDsdwawpPxgDk5XteWW8ZlnLawbFL735HdpQM5wyVs3eJsRWZX4TtiYBeCpPGmRF3qXWssIvVkkNlnjK7NAJJYYu0DhP5r5RbKTjrbflFZRlgUBUxZInjONNBcCV9RJg0G0_pA/s72-c/197534_552258862728_107703823_31839438_6925134_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-6444174508555873405</id><published>2011-05-27T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-27T08:02:56.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>20 Questions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWV_TsjpEyL6j7vN0L-wk8jnukPvPAXCPvVFt7QV_Q3bxNdc0kA0sZoq62VvW85mTVhCDcNKFYsozLJtpUFxDQDww2UCWx56ZYDk4XExlh3iYIyGTeV453spWMKhUsWIuyG3bhUEsYzw/s1600/226377_568335539938_107703823_31911885_7087482_n.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611411471739687458&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWV_TsjpEyL6j7vN0L-wk8jnukPvPAXCPvVFt7QV_Q3bxNdc0kA0sZoq62VvW85mTVhCDcNKFYsozLJtpUFxDQDww2UCWx56ZYDk4XExlh3iYIyGTeV453spWMKhUsWIuyG3bhUEsYzw/s320/226377_568335539938_107703823_31911885_7087482_n.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel like we all need a good laugh, since most of our previous days have been filled with plenty of sorrow. So here is my attempt to return a smile or maybe even a chuckle to your day.&lt;br /&gt;Addi is getting older. With increased age, comes increased awareness of your surroundings (oh, and increased questions). This morning Addi finally asked me about pregnancy, babies, bellies and such. I felt I was deferring all questions quite well, until....&quot;mom how do babies get in your belly...?&quot; Uhm, (insert panic, insert nervous giggles, insert something that might make a bit of sense)...&quot;well, see God puts a baby in your belly.&quot; That seemed to-the-point and I thought it was the perfect answer. Then she asked &quot;mom, but how does Jesus put the baby in your belly, I don&#39;t think it fits...?&quot; My fabulously, quick-witted answer &quot;MAGIC!&quot; Damn, smooth...not so much...magic, what kind of answer was that? Epic parenting fail! Addi responded with &quot;oh, ok...so Jesus puts a baby in your belly with magic...so he just waives his magic wand and....&quot; I could just see the wheels turning in her head. Poor child is going to grow up wondering while all of the photographic depictions of Christ have left out his...&#39;magic wand&#39;.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/6444174508555873405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-feel-like-we-all-need-good-laugh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6444174508555873405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6444174508555873405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-feel-like-we-all-need-good-laugh.html' title='20 Questions'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeWV_TsjpEyL6j7vN0L-wk8jnukPvPAXCPvVFt7QV_Q3bxNdc0kA0sZoq62VvW85mTVhCDcNKFYsozLJtpUFxDQDww2UCWx56ZYDk4XExlh3iYIyGTeV453spWMKhUsWIuyG3bhUEsYzw/s72-c/226377_568335539938_107703823_31911885_7087482_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-6060894086606044412</id><published>2011-02-27T07:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T08:48:39.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strength</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;I have attempted over and over again to write a serious blog. A single blog that didn&#39;t include a joke or a sarcastic remark, but I can&#39;t find it in myself to come up with something meaningful and w&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;itty&lt;/span&gt;. So that leads me to two conclusions: one, &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;I&#39;m&lt;/span&gt; not that kind of writer or two, &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;I&#39;m&lt;/span&gt; just that disconnected.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Easy to disconnect.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#cc6600;&quot;&gt;Women are stereotypically emotional, slow to react creatures, that base judgements on feelings rather than facts.&lt;/span&gt; We are supposed to cry when we are hurt, mad or dissatisfied with life. What if I don&#39;t cry? What if I don&#39;t care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask me a year ago and I would&#39;ve said this was a &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;positive&lt;/span&gt; characteristic that I have grown to develop. Ask me today and I will tell you that it&#39;s a form of disconnection with life. There are two types of people that never hurt: one, dead people and two, people that are waist deep in denial and afraid to be hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding myself further withdrawn, relying only on myself, afraid to ask anyone for help. Trying everyday to deal with the association between help and dependency. What type of person wants to admit they are dependent upon others? Not I, &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;I&#39;m&lt;/span&gt; too strong to ask anyone for help or admit I am afraid. Right? Afraid to rely upon someone else and be disappointed. Afraid to admit I can&#39;t conquer the world by myself. Afraid I might not have all of the answers. Afraid someone might see how weak I really am. Afraid someone is better than I. Afraid the people I am said to rely on, will be the same people who can hurt me the most. Afraid to be vulnerable and share a meaningful connection with anyone. &lt;span style=&quot;color:#cc6600;&quot;&gt;Afraid I am a beautiful, stereotypically emotional, slow to react creature, that bases judgements on feelings rather than facts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly but surely, I am coming around to the fact that I don&#39;t need to disassociate from life to be strong. Some of the strongest people I know are so candid and completely transparent. Admitting weaknesses and moving forward. Now I need to do the same. I need to realize that my apparent weaknesses might just be my greatest strengths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Not so easy to reconnect.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/6060894086606044412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/02/strength.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6060894086606044412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6060894086606044412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/02/strength.html' title='Strength'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-6483958390626223521</id><published>2011-02-23T16:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T16:25:47.169-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christina Perri - Jar of Hearts Official Video</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe height=&quot;295&quot; src=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/embed/8v_4O44sfjM?fs=1&quot; frameborder=&quot;0&quot; width=&quot;480&quot; allowfullscreen=&quot;&quot;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/6483958390626223521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/02/christina-perri-jar-of-hearts-official.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6483958390626223521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6483958390626223521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2011/02/christina-perri-jar-of-hearts-official.html' title='Christina Perri - Jar of Hearts Official Video'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://img.youtube.com/vi/8v_4O44sfjM/default.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-3624717789263476460</id><published>2010-12-11T13:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T13:07:51.558-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quarters</title><content type='html'>So as I was walking up to put a quarter in a cart at Aldi&#39;s an older lady stopped me and told me not to worry about the quarter, that another lady had given her the cart and to just keep passing it around. (Small act of kindness, or large act of kindness if your like me and have a purse that seems to be 2 ft deep and the quarters seem to make their way to the bottom.) So to keep it going I took the cart, but put my quarter in another cart, so that one more person wouldn&#39;t have to shell out a quarter. So we load up our groceries and I went and put the &#39;kindness&#39; cart back in the slot. I kept the quarter in, just like the lady had asked me to do. Right as I was walking off the hispanic lady that was behind me put up her cart, got her quarter and took the quarter out of the &#39;kindness&#39; cart... Karma...it&#39;s a...you know what!&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. That&#39;s life.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/3624717789263476460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/12/quarters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3624717789263476460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3624717789263476460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/12/quarters.html' title='Quarters'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-5874108041966494178</id><published>2010-11-28T17:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T18:07:22.032-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuse me and my multiple topics...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1Qn5PS2tF2bUHDs3n0pQ7HupAKdAjZF49OJyIaToyJgOZ9Qd9ka6PP5t2zeIQNsBXo_-52X1NCq1x2TR2QgrtsOfzLS5XgVxbuSIAZ7cY3jEIxpIwKNejLJtv6id7g5_W11CzsguRFE/s1600/IMG_5000.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544787274517266866&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1Qn5PS2tF2bUHDs3n0pQ7HupAKdAjZF49OJyIaToyJgOZ9Qd9ka6PP5t2zeIQNsBXo_-52X1NCq1x2TR2QgrtsOfzLS5XgVxbuSIAZ7cY3jEIxpIwKNejLJtv6id7g5_W11CzsguRFE/s320/IMG_5000.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Haven&#39;t had much time to write lately, so &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;I&#39;ve&lt;/span&gt; just been keeping little ideas of topics in my head...&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;. Here we go!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today (Sunday) was our last official day of Thanksgiving! Whew! Nothing like spreading your massive caloric intake over a period of 4 days. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day one I was thankful for food and lots of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day two I was thankful for days off and seeing family (oh and leftovers).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day three I was thankful for &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;nap times&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day four (today) I am thankful for the 3% spandex in my jeans. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Ahhh&lt;/span&gt;...the holiday of &#39;thanks.&#39;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;Separate&lt;/span&gt; topic:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So last Monday I went back to work, after almost 11 months off...crazy! I was so ready to go back, but it was bittersweet! Day two of work and Addi was throwing an all out, on the floor, kicking and screaming, crying until drool pooled on the linoleum, throw her body in front of the door, fit. It was horrible. I called home a couple minutes after leaving to see how she was handling my leave, and she forgot I was gone...hence my new journey being bittersweet. I don&#39;t get a &#39;&#39;MOMMY!&quot; when I walk through the door like daddy does...still haven&#39;t figured out why that is...I think he trained them to greet him like that. I need to work on my training! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I&#39;m happy I went back to work. I needed the break! Sound funny? A stay at home mom went back to work for a &#39;break.&#39; Yep, that&#39;s how difficult being a s.a.h.m. really is. There are some moms out there that might be cut out for it, but that mother is not I. I love my kids to death and I wouldn&#39;t trade them for the world, but I needed the break so that I still had some sanity when I reached the tender age of 24. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_5&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;Separate&lt;/span&gt; topic:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas...it took me about a week, but I got back with her. I want a new set of professional make up brushes and I want the &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_6&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;DVD&lt;/span&gt; players that go on the back of car head-rests. Flawless make-up and a 45 minute road trip that didn&#39;t include screaming...who wouldn&#39;t call those the best presents ever? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_7&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;Separate&lt;/span&gt; topic:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Derrick: Babe, did you re-name the t.v. guide, because it &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_8&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;say&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; family favorites?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yes, I changed it from &#39;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_9&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;dshiznit&lt;/span&gt;&#39; to &#39;family.&#39;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Derrick: When did you do this?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: The day after you named it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_10&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;Separate&lt;/span&gt; topic:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saw my little brothers Christmas list, well...saw the page long list that included only video games...there is another page to come &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_11&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;I&#39;m&lt;/span&gt; sure that will include a mile long list of weaponry. Will likes to dream big. &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_12&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;That&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; one of his fabulous qualities. I swear that boy can always make me laugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_13&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;Separate&lt;/span&gt; topic:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Will&#39;s hand writing for his Christmas list, looks strangely like Lauren&#39;s writing. My writing looks similar to my moms...I wonder if there is a direct &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_14&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;correlation&lt;/span&gt; between the person that teaches you a lot about writing and the way you chose to write. Surely handwriting &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_15&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;technique&lt;/span&gt; is not a genetic predisposition? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_16&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;That&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; all...&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/5874108041966494178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/11/excuse-me-and-my-multiple-topics.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/5874108041966494178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/5874108041966494178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/11/excuse-me-and-my-multiple-topics.html' title='Excuse me and my multiple topics...'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1Qn5PS2tF2bUHDs3n0pQ7HupAKdAjZF49OJyIaToyJgOZ9Qd9ka6PP5t2zeIQNsBXo_-52X1NCq1x2TR2QgrtsOfzLS5XgVxbuSIAZ7cY3jEIxpIwKNejLJtv6id7g5_W11CzsguRFE/s72-c/IMG_5000.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-2158647437291249955</id><published>2010-11-09T07:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-09T07:55:13.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>silence...shooting range...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpdOEPKp_ybvCfHYj7_Ffsy5YS46zZ4xclDPHBKwP2UQnoyU40p7es_fu6FsfRPHysn551pCkoV4m0dwYQfFZwhdpIjtCyFvNk6UqXpxzoN4Bb0nzsBe6_SxApuAiySYMYGM1LSYRTS0/s1600/IMG_4869.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537578632322108882&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpdOEPKp_ybvCfHYj7_Ffsy5YS46zZ4xclDPHBKwP2UQnoyU40p7es_fu6FsfRPHysn551pCkoV4m0dwYQfFZwhdpIjtCyFvNk6UqXpxzoN4Bb0nzsBe6_SxApuAiySYMYGM1LSYRTS0/s320/IMG_4869.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The shooting range is a simply designed place, for simple-minded individuals, that like doing simple things. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things you will never see at the shooting range:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;vivid clothing...neutral is always the color of choice...don&#39;t really know why.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a 4 cylinder vehicle&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;an actual conversation&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a loud female&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;small screaming children&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;expensive shoes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;a man that pretends to care &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wish it was socially acceptable to constantly walk around with ear plugs in. The only time I wear ear plugs, is when I go down to the shooting range. Every single time I wear them, I realize how wonderful they are. I&#39;m thinking about implementing them in my daily routine. I would still be able to hear if one of the chilren scream, but it would drown out most whiny noise. Just a thought.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The shooting range is a funny place. Funny because it is so simple. Everyone is expected to wear ear plugs, so there is no need for small chat or conversation in general. You don&#39;t feel the need to conjure up interesting talking points with the individual shooting next to you, in fact the only time you do talk to someone is to ask if you can go hang your targets, or if someone needs to borrow something from your shooting bag (duct tape, pins, grease, rag...things of that nature)...(and if someone has a question about my gun). That&#39;s it. That&#39;s the only time I have to talk to someone. I find this glorious. I know you all think I have a lot to say, but in reality I don&#39;t. I enjoy the comfort of not having to say anything. When Derrick and I go on a long drive it is almost complete silence. I get to listen to the radio and I don&#39;t have to pretend to listen to him talking. He understands. Or at least I think he does. Either way, there is something to be said about a comfortable silence...IT IS FANTASTIC! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/2158647437291249955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/11/silenceshooting-range.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/2158647437291249955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/2158647437291249955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/11/silenceshooting-range.html' title='silence...shooting range...'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpdOEPKp_ybvCfHYj7_Ffsy5YS46zZ4xclDPHBKwP2UQnoyU40p7es_fu6FsfRPHysn551pCkoV4m0dwYQfFZwhdpIjtCyFvNk6UqXpxzoN4Bb0nzsBe6_SxApuAiySYMYGM1LSYRTS0/s72-c/IMG_4869.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-4172025728677921419</id><published>2010-10-25T12:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T12:45:14.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Randoms.</title><content type='html'>Random things I have had to say today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) It&#39;s &#39;&#39;row, row, row your boat&quot; not &quot;row, row, row your butt.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;2.) Get your dirty feet out of the cookies.&lt;br /&gt;3.) Don&#39;t put your finger in your brothers nose, it bothers him.&lt;br /&gt;4.) No you can&#39;t wake up, you never went to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;5.) No your eating &#39;crab&#39; not &#39;crap.&#39;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/4172025728677921419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/randoms.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/4172025728677921419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/4172025728677921419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/randoms.html' title='Randoms.'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-3775695712159183085</id><published>2010-10-24T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T23:25:03.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parenthood...and housewives.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3g1BgVADCpLI6CNRSXVYSFvMe5bMDKOTuFWfYrdYUU66IzurAZOoaCh_gh35HfCcqqr41fLk2ElcsgdYyNPGXKS05ldxObaJ1GvDuVWQRVdlmxNxxTFn89v61fzLWmvAqZ0y5eT11TwA/s1600/IMG_4520.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531865806921213250&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3g1BgVADCpLI6CNRSXVYSFvMe5bMDKOTuFWfYrdYUU66IzurAZOoaCh_gh35HfCcqqr41fLk2ElcsgdYyNPGXKS05ldxObaJ1GvDuVWQRVdlmxNxxTFn89v61fzLWmvAqZ0y5eT11TwA/s320/IMG_4520.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think when your child turns 3, you finally become a parent. It sounds silly doesn&#39;t it? When your child is an infant you are their &#39;care-taker,&#39; but you really aren&#39;t their parent. When your child is old enough to argue about choice of sock color, oreos vs. pancakes for breakfast, why somersaults next to the fireplace sound like a good idea, or why they feel the need to make you carry their 35 lb body around Wal-Mart, that is the point when I believe you become a parent. At that very point in time, when you are standing in the kitchen arguing with some one less than a quarter your age and half your size, is the point when the term &#39;parent&#39; can effectively be used to describe yourself. When you feel yourself about ready to pull your hair out, because &#39;pink socks don&#39;t go with black cowboy boots,&#39; or when your head is going to explode, because you&#39;ve broken up your 5th fight over cheez-its during the day...pat yourself on the back. Congratulations, you&#39;ve made it to &#39;parenthood.&#39; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Completely separate topic...Derrick told me today that i&#39;m a great mother, wife, sister, daughter, etc...but i&#39;m not a great &#39;housewife.&#39; Duh. I&#39;m not great at cleaning. I&#39;m not even going to sit here and say i&#39;m good at it. I do it to get it done. I hate it and I think playing with my kids is much more important. That being said, I looked up &#39;housewife&#39; in wikipedia (I know you all think i&#39;m crazy) just to see what kind of insight it offered... I pulled a fun paragraph out, to defend my point-of-view.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&#39;&#39;Similarly, there is considerable variation in the stay-at-home mom&#39;s attitude towards domestic work not related to caring for children. Some may embrace a traditional role of housewife, cooking and cleaning in addition to caring for children. Others see their primary role as that of child-care providers, supporting their children&#39;s physical, intellectual, and emotional development while sharing or outsourcing other aspects of home care.&#39;&#39;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, what wikipedia is trying to tell me is that I am not the only stay at home mother who doesn&#39;t like to clean. Thank you again wikipedia. All i&#39;m saying is that I can pick up teddy grahams until the cows come home, but eventually they find their way back into the living room and on the couch, and in the clothes hamper, and in bed, and in the underwear drawer, and in the linen closet, and even on top of the t.v. Teddy grahams just have a funny way of knowing where they aren&#39;t supposed to go. I think if I didn&#39;t have children, my house would be spotless or at least it wouldn&#39;t have a dusting of cinnamon sugar everywhere you turn. Again, this is the price you pay for those little giggles and silly dance parties. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/3775695712159183085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/parenthoodand-housewives.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3775695712159183085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3775695712159183085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/parenthoodand-housewives.html' title='Parenthood...and housewives.'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3g1BgVADCpLI6CNRSXVYSFvMe5bMDKOTuFWfYrdYUU66IzurAZOoaCh_gh35HfCcqqr41fLk2ElcsgdYyNPGXKS05ldxObaJ1GvDuVWQRVdlmxNxxTFn89v61fzLWmvAqZ0y5eT11TwA/s72-c/IMG_4520.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-1512723741574541019</id><published>2010-10-20T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T10:53:20.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good News/Bad News/No News?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6XxYppuPkx1qLs7J8FAnXI6aw_nkS-S_lKR-RVgL8k4GiIdZXDgiEhXGfyk2gGqGQIXO3B4PU7ABclJw4Bk1Ty9G1P0Xhq1iA_Q6UpiK0IvSPJjm74cMpbby2h4wb0ylP1X0Cdj8-0s/s1600/DeadSanta1.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530187756115423778&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6XxYppuPkx1qLs7J8FAnXI6aw_nkS-S_lKR-RVgL8k4GiIdZXDgiEhXGfyk2gGqGQIXO3B4PU7ABclJw4Bk1Ty9G1P0Xhq1iA_Q6UpiK0IvSPJjm74cMpbby2h4wb0ylP1X0Cdj8-0s/s320/DeadSanta1.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, just got back from the pulmonologist. She informed me I don&#39;t have sleep apnea or narcolepsy...duh. She did however say from my sleep study I seem to be clinically sleep deprived. Really? I have two toddlers, I routinely wake up 2-7 times a night to take care of them and YOU are informing ME that I&#39;m sleep deprived. Get outta here...No way?! Silly doctor. She is such a sweet woman, but she is in her mid/late 30&#39;s and is single without children. She just doesn&#39;t understand... She informed me that I needed to get more sleep, start taking routine daily naps, watch my caffeine intake, and she put me on a medicine to help me feel less sleepy during the day. I hate to tell her, but Derrick wakes up at 5 am to go to work. I can&#39;t honestly make him wake up with the kids all night long and then head off for work at the crack of dawn. On his days off he does get up with the kids, but I can&#39;t sleep when he is up with them. I&#39;m constantly wondering if he is doing everything right. Lord knows he is, but I&#39;m apparently just that anal when it comes to the kids. The naps just aren&#39;t going to happen. I can&#39;t lay down in the middle of the day and be expected to wake back up in a decent mood only 45 minutes later. That&#39;s crazy talk. I drink almost no caffeine everyday, so that instruction is not going to be hard. We will just have to see how this medicine works out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It&#39;s just funny to me how much work kids are. Mothers literally hand over their bodies to their children the day they become pregnant. You find yourself sleeping when your children sleep, eating when your children eat, working when your children are playing. All of those silly books tell you to get your children on a routine, but I&#39;m fairly sure I just put myself on my children&#39;s routine. I&#39;m sure that most mothers have done the same.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To my doctor...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear Sweet Dr. Annie Nawab,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Your wonderful, don&#39;t get me wrong, but I think your a little delusional. Mothers don&#39;t get to sleep when they want to sleep, we don&#39;t get to eat when we want to eat, we do nothing on our own regard. That is what makes us mothers. I will bring my children in for my 3 month follow-up with you, and you can kindly try to explain to them why mommy needs sleep. If you could convey to them that sleep loss causes things such as: weight gain, irritability, memory loss, or increased blood pressure, I would greatly appreciate it. I think those things will really hit home with a 3 year old and a 1 year old. Maybe you could tell them a story about how Santa got too stressed out, lost a lot of sleep, forgot about Christmas, found out he was gaining weight from diabetes and got so irritated that his blood pressure shot through the roof and he suffered a heart attack and keeled over and died. If you think that&#39;s a little too rough, you can change it up a bit, but I really think that will do the trick. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Best Regards,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Magen Balmas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/1512723741574541019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/good-newsbad-newsno-news.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/1512723741574541019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/1512723741574541019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/good-newsbad-newsno-news.html' title='Good News/Bad News/No News?'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6XxYppuPkx1qLs7J8FAnXI6aw_nkS-S_lKR-RVgL8k4GiIdZXDgiEhXGfyk2gGqGQIXO3B4PU7ABclJw4Bk1Ty9G1P0Xhq1iA_Q6UpiK0IvSPJjm74cMpbby2h4wb0ylP1X0Cdj8-0s/s72-c/DeadSanta1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-6469088027737232711</id><published>2010-10-13T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T08:51:23.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boobies!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvcWWTHbvt-7uKDmD9qnncONyt7nYeZuysBnWtED-4iTLfIi0rOMAj1FDsfbkF3P6tM_LkMB-yeCIIz9fBr4OVHaiWyDWdeWyfj_DsgBf9zG94RWach8IL6yZF-cmHzIgDlRcs4C_8vo/s1600/ribbon.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 191px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527558137817628706&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvcWWTHbvt-7uKDmD9qnncONyt7nYeZuysBnWtED-4iTLfIi0rOMAj1FDsfbkF3P6tM_LkMB-yeCIIz9fBr4OVHaiWyDWdeWyfj_DsgBf9zG94RWach8IL6yZF-cmHzIgDlRcs4C_8vo/s320/ribbon.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ladies, ladies, ladies...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is breast cancer awareness month. Everyone needs to start doing their self exams. Are you saying, &quot;well i&#39;m too young.&quot; If you are, shut up. Your not too young. Check your boobies! lmao. I only bring this up, because about 2 weeks ago I found a lump in my breast. After diagnostic mammo and ultrasound, the lump was classified as benign. I met with a surgeon yesterday and he gave me the option of follow-up visits every 3 months to better ascertain how fast the lump is growing and changing, or surgery to have the lump removed. I chose option number one...I need to add volume to my breasts, not take it away. haha. I am very lucky! It could&#39;ve been worse. I never did my self exams and the lump measures 1 cm x 3cm...that&#39;s a decent size lump...see how careless I sound now? So ladies, please start doing your self exams. 1 in 8 women will get breast cancer, those odds are not very promising.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://breastcancer.about.com/od/risk/tp/bse_illustrated.htm&quot;&gt;http://breastcancer.about.com/od/risk/tp/bse_illustrated.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/6469088027737232711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/boobies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6469088027737232711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6469088027737232711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/boobies.html' title='Boobies!'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMvcWWTHbvt-7uKDmD9qnncONyt7nYeZuysBnWtED-4iTLfIi0rOMAj1FDsfbkF3P6tM_LkMB-yeCIIz9fBr4OVHaiWyDWdeWyfj_DsgBf9zG94RWach8IL6yZF-cmHzIgDlRcs4C_8vo/s72-c/ribbon.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-9024837719973878404</id><published>2010-10-11T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T14:08:08.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One, Two.......THREE?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGiU4lVVEFmd_w4GYa4ytf0Xe-sszKg3pYGEVRT_1lcIMO2ScnanujGY8D0ELQW6hQ1-7SDpgjUssSc8X2zg8wf_ibWeCtZhVwu4F6n2DO0E42l8R9gkSs-XNMk9XPuv_5tFyCJvvn2g/s1600/IMG_3527.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526895077813015986&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGiU4lVVEFmd_w4GYa4ytf0Xe-sszKg3pYGEVRT_1lcIMO2ScnanujGY8D0ELQW6hQ1-7SDpgjUssSc8X2zg8wf_ibWeCtZhVwu4F6n2DO0E42l8R9gkSs-XNMk9XPuv_5tFyCJvvn2g/s320/IMG_3527.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, Addi will be 3 next Monday... There is something about 3 that is scary. Maybe, it&#39;s the fact that she will be 2 years away from &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;kindergarten&lt;/span&gt; or maybe &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;I&#39;m&lt;/span&gt; finally coming to the conclusion that she isn&#39;t a baby anymore. I never thought I would be like this. You know, so emotionally distraught about my &#39;baby&#39; growing up. I had a couple biology courses before I became pregnant, so I understood that she would age like any other human being, but I just wasn&#39;t prepared. She is turning into a little girl. A small child with her own ideals and aspirations. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Addi is really very funny. She is a pint-sized, emotionally uncontrollable, clumsy, aggressive, little lady that is either eerily quiet or unnervingly loud. She is me, in a much smaller package. Addi&#39;s favorite shape is a circle, her favorite color is red, her favorite number is 3 (go figure), and her favorite word is &#39;no&#39; (&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, so I made that part up, but she says it so much that it might as well be her favorite word). She is the most &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;argumentative&lt;/span&gt; child I have ever met, and she always prefers to complete tasks by herself (unless of course, the task is cleaning her room). She is a goofball with a very silly laugh and the best jokes around. She is coming into her own, but I don&#39;t know if I am ready to let her grow up yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It&#39;s funny how well-rounded children are by the age of 3. They know exactly what they want and how to get it. They know what they stand for, and are completely unashamed of anything that pertains to &#39;them.&#39; What happens throughout the rest of our lives that disrupts this &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;unapologetic&lt;/span&gt;, all-knowing idea of ourselves?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If only we could all be as confident in ourselves now, as we were at the age of 3. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/9024837719973878404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/one-twothree.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/9024837719973878404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/9024837719973878404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/one-twothree.html' title='One, Two.......THREE?!'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGiU4lVVEFmd_w4GYa4ytf0Xe-sszKg3pYGEVRT_1lcIMO2ScnanujGY8D0ELQW6hQ1-7SDpgjUssSc8X2zg8wf_ibWeCtZhVwu4F6n2DO0E42l8R9gkSs-XNMk9XPuv_5tFyCJvvn2g/s72-c/IMG_3527.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-6949294796319877942</id><published>2010-10-07T14:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T14:42:06.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotionally drained!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingOec_Pwsrh3B9p0y3QIY6EAUhDtoue_m7wpUsUEoWnyP6xygZVXPak9m7wnt-pA_hBtUUvj-rn-jjsD1qRl_wkNePLDvEZAA38bUqFw_YKEK7jkMyvszDU0bD3HmEL_crY_aXEOTx34/s1600/IMG_3569.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525422375819304386&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingOec_Pwsrh3B9p0y3QIY6EAUhDtoue_m7wpUsUEoWnyP6xygZVXPak9m7wnt-pA_hBtUUvj-rn-jjsD1qRl_wkNePLDvEZAA38bUqFw_YKEK7jkMyvszDU0bD3HmEL_crY_aXEOTx34/s320/IMG_3569.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Both of the kids are sick. They&#39;ve been sick for over a week now. If you don&#39;t have kids, or your child has never been sick (which is unlikely), let me tell you it is so frustrating. I can&#39;t even describe how frustrating it can be, but I will try. It would be like waking up late and your only clean pair of jeans don&#39;t really fit, because you&#39;re bloated. So you squeeze into those jeans, then stumble to the living room and stub your toe on the couch, because you couldn&#39;t see your foot underneath your new muffin-top. When your finally dressed, you run out of the house late, and forget to grab your keys and lock yourself out of your house. So you call a locksmith, pay $35 to unlock your door. You grab your keys, jump into your car only to find that your car is on empty. Run to the gas station and your debit card has a giant scratch down the magnetic strip and now it&#39;s not working. The bank isn&#39;t open on Sunday&#39;s, so what are you going to now. Your thinking I would run home and have a meltdown, right?! Well it&#39;s just not that easy when you have kids. You contemplate locking them in their bedrooms, but the neighbors would hear them screaming to get out. That would make future neighbor-to-neighbor conversations a bit awkward. lol. Oh, but seriously i&#39;m drained. Damn near empty. You can&#39;t really discipline sick children like you would healthy children, because you understand that they are sick and they can&#39;t communicate what is wrong with them. It&#39;s difficult. So for every mom that has lived through seasonal colds, the flu, teething, and every other ailment known to pediatricians, I tip my hat to you. It&#39;s definately not easy being emotionally defeated by someone half your size, but you have managed to cope and better days are ahead...&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/6949294796319877942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/emotionally-drained.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6949294796319877942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/6949294796319877942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/emotionally-drained.html' title='Emotionally drained!'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingOec_Pwsrh3B9p0y3QIY6EAUhDtoue_m7wpUsUEoWnyP6xygZVXPak9m7wnt-pA_hBtUUvj-rn-jjsD1qRl_wkNePLDvEZAA38bUqFw_YKEK7jkMyvszDU0bD3HmEL_crY_aXEOTx34/s72-c/IMG_3569.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-315267427748562402</id><published>2010-10-05T07:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T07:23:14.154-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Names</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkg_SJdsQmPUEmup7BuEgx-wqKtldxpdYqz_zCrhcYjP5YD6qSbKSmHPOMDlxhczj3_VmMx2X66tR0FHQrvhs65SX-aLA-Jw1FYH0171dgEOMEeNwSxn2ArQaNbi6Lppokb4J6wO8tjAY/s1600/IMG_3195.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524567235978927314&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkg_SJdsQmPUEmup7BuEgx-wqKtldxpdYqz_zCrhcYjP5YD6qSbKSmHPOMDlxhczj3_VmMx2X66tR0FHQrvhs65SX-aLA-Jw1FYH0171dgEOMEeNwSxn2ArQaNbi6Lppokb4J6wO8tjAY/s320/IMG_3195.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I believe in researching your childs name before their birth...that being said, I should&#39;ve let Derrick know about that before he named Conner. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Derrick (origin Germanic)-meaning, ruler of the people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Magen (origin Hebrew)-meaning, shield.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Addison (origin Old English)-meaning, (son) of Adam. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Conner (origin Irish)-meaning, hound-lover.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lmao. Moral of story...do appropriate research. I wanted to name him Liam, but that suggestion was quickly vetoed. Oh well, it could always be worse.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/315267427748562402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/names.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/315267427748562402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/315267427748562402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/10/names.html' title='Names'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkg_SJdsQmPUEmup7BuEgx-wqKtldxpdYqz_zCrhcYjP5YD6qSbKSmHPOMDlxhczj3_VmMx2X66tR0FHQrvhs65SX-aLA-Jw1FYH0171dgEOMEeNwSxn2ArQaNbi6Lppokb4J6wO8tjAY/s72-c/IMG_3195.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-585990007711359850</id><published>2010-09-20T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T19:24:54.322-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Unknown...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0usEM1Mv2MlB2tvMseh-aEIPZ1gCaQdV51LInCH9csxy2X9nvtijP5W6y61mbpJzSSa4K-C730pigAswYdeooiRehW2UAp9HogozsfJLm289b38-fF05qtQEEZdnumBix1T-VpNt1t5g/s1600/IMG_7889.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519186703609612994&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0usEM1Mv2MlB2tvMseh-aEIPZ1gCaQdV51LInCH9csxy2X9nvtijP5W6y61mbpJzSSa4K-C730pigAswYdeooiRehW2UAp9HogozsfJLm289b38-fF05qtQEEZdnumBix1T-VpNt1t5g/s320/IMG_7889.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;With the fall season approaching and the horror movies starting to overwhelm the box office, I feel that I must inform you all that I hate ALL scary things about halloween. Seriously! I do not like being scared, and that is the entire point of halloween. Why does this sound like a good idea to anyone? &quot;Hey lets devote an entire month to scaring the crap out of people, just because.&quot; I just don&#39;t understand. Every single year Derrick asks me to go to a &#39;haunted maze&#39; or &#39;haunted house&#39; with him. EVERY single time I have absolutely refused. I hate surprises, of any kind (good or bad)...so the thought of having someone chasing me through a corn maze with a chainsaw just doesn&#39;t sound like good, clean fun. Go figure. I get that it is just regular people in cheap plastic masks with chainsaws going &#39;&#39;boo,&#39;&#39; but I just can&#39;t get used to the idea. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was serious when I said I don&#39;t like surprises. One of the greatest things about my marriage, is that I have my husband figured out. I know when he has something up his sleeve, and most of the time whatever he has planned, I have thought about first. So in reality, it&#39;s not really that surprising. Some might think that&#39;s boring, but to a control freak, it is very comforting. I have always been this way. I can remember when I was younger and my sister and I would be chasing one another through our old house, causing way too much trouble. I would stand on the toilet and wait for her to come running through the bathroom and jump down and scare the crap out of her, but when she did the same thing to me I would become irate. Lol. Ahhh, the good ol&#39; days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I&#39;m KIND OF contemplating breaking out of my comfort zone and doing something different this year. Maybe a corn maze, or haunted house. Who knows? Maybe I will go to a horror movie and not stare at the floor the entire time. Of all the things in life that could scare me, these all seem kind of miniscule. Maybe I won&#39;t break out of my comfort zone...maybe I will just kind of slowly drift out of my comfort zone. Scary movie anyone?&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/585990007711359850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/unknown.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/585990007711359850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/585990007711359850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/unknown.html' title='The Unknown...'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0usEM1Mv2MlB2tvMseh-aEIPZ1gCaQdV51LInCH9csxy2X9nvtijP5W6y61mbpJzSSa4K-C730pigAswYdeooiRehW2UAp9HogozsfJLm289b38-fF05qtQEEZdnumBix1T-VpNt1t5g/s72-c/IMG_7889.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-2247280941029840534</id><published>2010-09-20T13:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T13:50:58.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Transparency.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eriXWebQu3mVP-Rx28oCe7ft_wejfAZwd_ILcGlP_X50nr5P_s-e4YPiwB0aSuZf8FfK4mMzTZurcKwYrvUD7fg21yL_XNvZ_EXK-X0iRURsVw1_K-KfP2V5orQCpYAOjTlVvYg67L8/s1600/IMG_2976.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519100948659828226&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eriXWebQu3mVP-Rx28oCe7ft_wejfAZwd_ILcGlP_X50nr5P_s-e4YPiwB0aSuZf8FfK4mMzTZurcKwYrvUD7fg21yL_XNvZ_EXK-X0iRURsVw1_K-KfP2V5orQCpYAOjTlVvYg67L8/s320/IMG_2976.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The kids just woke up from a 3 1/2 hour nap. This kind of nap is kind of like groundhog day. It happens approximately once a year, you never really know when it&#39;s coming until it&#39;s happening and you never quite know the outcome. Either way, it was great. The kids woke up very cheerful and it gave Derrick and I, a chance to lay in bed and watch Marley and Me again. We have seen the movie once before, and I thought it was good the first time around. When I watched it today, it was like watching it for the first time. For any of you that haven&#39;t seen it, or don&#39;t have children your probably thinking...&quot;what the movie about the crazy dog?&quot; The movie is much more than that. Specifically, the part of the movie when they find out that they are about to have a second child. I don&#39;t know what I didn&#39;t see the first time around, but today I felt like the movie was a script taken right out of my life. I found tears streaming down my face. Why? I&#39;m not exactly sure. I think they might have been tears of relief. I think we have trouble admitting when things become difficult. Let me rephrase that. &#39;&#39;I think I have trouble admitting when things become difficult.&#39;&#39; Jennifer Aniston has a line in the movie and she says &quot;no one ever tells you how hard it is. how hard marriage is. how hard parenting is. i feel like i have given up so much of what made me me, but this was a choice.&quot; This is so true. When you get married and have children, your life changes. Completely. I&#39;m not saying it&#39;s always bad, because it is not. The great things that marriage and children provide, far outweigh the difficulties. The only problem is, everyone is afraid to speak of the difficulties that they face on an everyday basis. Everyone is so busy trying to save-face, that they are afraid to open up and speak the truth. We all have the same arguments, we all have the same stresses, we all have the same irritants. That&#39;s part of life. We all just have to find ways to adjust so we can get out alive. Or cope...however you want to look at it. Saying I am human, I make mistakes, I am a shitty wife sometimes and by all means I could be a more patient mother, does not make me crazy. It makes me honest, both with myself and anyone who cares to find out. None of us are perfect. I am not Cinderella. My husband is not Prince Charming, but he is someone that has vowed to live with me and put up with my emotional, ever-changing self for the rest of his life. That makes him pretty phenomenal in my eyes. I think we all need a more realistic view on life. I can only be as great as I chose to be. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/2247280941029840534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/transparency.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/2247280941029840534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/2247280941029840534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/transparency.html' title='Transparency.'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9eriXWebQu3mVP-Rx28oCe7ft_wejfAZwd_ILcGlP_X50nr5P_s-e4YPiwB0aSuZf8FfK4mMzTZurcKwYrvUD7fg21yL_XNvZ_EXK-X0iRURsVw1_K-KfP2V5orQCpYAOjTlVvYg67L8/s72-c/IMG_2976.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-3822128771732076929</id><published>2010-09-15T16:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T16:55:42.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don&#39;t sweat the small stuff...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTHewmv1p1B07U3FgaqWb0ykeu79oCKuH3apRardMsxtFssE77G8qMLu5nNp1ltD89ONLup7eSyJ3R-sOIPsVw_qwl5QJDp9pFBYWYmXnfBP73aQJeOAV-GSgXLBpR6Z7dFoufD8z56EU/s1600/IMG_2817.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517292814378681186&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTHewmv1p1B07U3FgaqWb0ykeu79oCKuH3apRardMsxtFssE77G8qMLu5nNp1ltD89ONLup7eSyJ3R-sOIPsVw_qwl5QJDp9pFBYWYmXnfBP73aQJeOAV-GSgXLBpR6Z7dFoufD8z56EU/s320/IMG_2817.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Addi is entering into a new phase of independence. I can accept that. I am trying to foster this new trait as best as possible. I have recently started letting her use the bathroom and wash her hands by herself. She is not the greatest at either task, and usually there are messes to clean up after she is done. That just goes without saying when dealing with a 2 year old. She enjoys washing her hands, because it usually means 3-4 minutes of playing in the water and creating a sink full of bubbles. I get that fascination, if only I were 2, and bubbles still amused me...(sigh). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight Addi announced to the entire house (as usual) that she was going to go pee. She ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut. After about 10 minutes passed, I decided to go check on her. Right as I was getting ready to open the bathroom door, she comes out and asks me where the hand towels are. I lead her into the linen closet so she can choose a towel of her liking. I walk back over and open the bathroom door expecting to find a large mess, but there was no apparent destruction. Score one for me! Then I realize her sponge bob toothpaste is out and the cap is off and sitting on the top of the vanity. I peer around the corner to find blue toothpaste still dripping down her chin. I asked her what she had been doing. She informed me she had been &#39;&#39;washing her hands, that was all.&#39;&#39; I said &#39;&#39;hmmmm, well your toothpaste is out...do you know why that is?&#39;&#39; She replied with &quot;oh yeah, and I brushed my teeth. yep, I brushed my teeth and washed my hands.&quot; I then asked her &#39;&#39;why her toothbrush was dry, if she had been brushing her teeth?&#39;&#39; She looked up at me, with that sweet little twinkle in her eye and said &quot;oh, don&#39;t worry...I just used your toothbrush.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life lesson #437: Don&#39;t sweat the small stuff. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/3822128771732076929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/dont-sweat-small-stuff.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3822128771732076929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3822128771732076929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/dont-sweat-small-stuff.html' title='Don&#39;t sweat the small stuff...'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTHewmv1p1B07U3FgaqWb0ykeu79oCKuH3apRardMsxtFssE77G8qMLu5nNp1ltD89ONLup7eSyJ3R-sOIPsVw_qwl5QJDp9pFBYWYmXnfBP73aQJeOAV-GSgXLBpR6Z7dFoufD8z56EU/s72-c/IMG_2817.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-7530364668632551746</id><published>2010-09-13T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T13:07:13.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQoKobDqqKGiUjPoV7CVXAopy1qSw-Y-QiHp8FAFLAD2xEd-IgDn7Qq_hQw8QTYWo2gR2OTgUkv8eFgOzfi2B4kRpsgESotU-ly6MyLXGVhsF1ZTN0FRRcgHn411RtTgaS68NHjmzr1x0/s1600/IMG_2799.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516492080531537586&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQoKobDqqKGiUjPoV7CVXAopy1qSw-Y-QiHp8FAFLAD2xEd-IgDn7Qq_hQw8QTYWo2gR2OTgUkv8eFgOzfi2B4kRpsgESotU-ly6MyLXGVhsF1ZTN0FRRcgHn411RtTgaS68NHjmzr1x0/s320/IMG_2799.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;Enough of my writing. Now I will engage you with other brainy quotes. I posted some that I like, hope you enjoy them also.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/1294498/george-carlin/the-most-unfair-thing-about-life-is-the-way-it-ends&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What&#39;s that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you&#39;re too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you&#39;re young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and you finish off as an orgasm.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-George Carlin. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/868760/john-c-collins/there-is-often-less-danger-in-the-things-we-fear-than&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“There is often less danger in the things we fear than in the things we desire.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-John C. Collins&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/960409/oscar-wilde/how-can-a-woman-be-expected-to-be-happy-with-a-man&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Oscar Wilde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/643734/ralph-waldo-emerson/to-laugh-often-and-much-to-win-the-respect-of-intelligent&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children...to leave the world a better place...to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Ralph Waldo Emerson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/85140/bill-cosby/no-matter-how-calmly-you-try-to-referee-parenting&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“No matter how calmly you try to referee, parenting will eventually produce bizarre behavior, and I&#39;m not talking about the kids. Their behavior is always normal.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Bill Cosby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I&#39;d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Margaret Mitchell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/342749/thomas-l-odem-jr/if-the-essence-of-my-being-has-caused-a-smile-to-have&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“If the essence of my being has caused a smile to have appeared upon your face or a touch of joy within your heart.Then in living - I have made my mark.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Thomas L. Odem Jr.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/228032/yevgeny-yevtushenko/time-has-a-way-of-demonstrating-that-the-most-stubborn&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“Time has a way of demonstrating that the most stubborn are the most intelligent”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Yevgeny Yevtushenko&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/572496/greta-garbo/anyone-who-has-a-continuous-smile-on-his-face-conceals&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“Anyone who has a continuous smile on his face conceals a toughness that is almost frightening.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Greta Garbo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-John Lennon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;Fear less, hope more; eat less, chew more; whine less, breathe more; talk less, say more; hate less, love more; and all good things are yours. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Swedish Proverb &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Leo Aikman &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:arial;&quot;&gt;-Alfred Lord Tennyson&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/1122990/louis-nizer/still-i-know-of-no-higher-fortitude-than-stubbornness&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“Still, I know of no higher fortitude than stubbornness in the face of overwhelming odds”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;-Louis Nizer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.quotesdaddy.com/quote/57134/arthur-polotnik/you-write-to-communicate-to-the-hearts-and-minds-of&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;“You write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what&#39;s burning inside you. And we edit to let the fire show through the smoke.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;Arthur Polotnik&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;Interesting quotes. The last one brings up an interesting topic for myself. As I get older I find myself grossly needing independence, lacking the ability to effectively communicate, shying away from any unneeded confrontation, and guarding my unaccomplished hopes and dreams in the most stubborn way imaginable. I think this is part of growing up. I don&#39;t really know, since I have never grow-up before. Growing, evolving, and always adapting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/7530364668632551746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/enough-of-my-writing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/7530364668632551746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/7530364668632551746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/enough-of-my-writing.html' title=''/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQoKobDqqKGiUjPoV7CVXAopy1qSw-Y-QiHp8FAFLAD2xEd-IgDn7Qq_hQw8QTYWo2gR2OTgUkv8eFgOzfi2B4kRpsgESotU-ly6MyLXGVhsF1ZTN0FRRcgHn411RtTgaS68NHjmzr1x0/s72-c/IMG_2799.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-8622637171469348855</id><published>2010-09-10T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T07:35:25.289-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VrtUHy4kAZ443jAqCgraHRBjgk5a3nrhTztwwmb-w_QjAHTZTkwuqCV3RjDew4HpS13yTD78X_aFAn3N23l5ssrygEMNGKbGTTLnVOdwX01yuaDgZ40xNpkfNHRPVKb967f12dsenTQ/s1600/IMG_2598.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515293218493084610&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VrtUHy4kAZ443jAqCgraHRBjgk5a3nrhTztwwmb-w_QjAHTZTkwuqCV3RjDew4HpS13yTD78X_aFAn3N23l5ssrygEMNGKbGTTLnVOdwX01yuaDgZ40xNpkfNHRPVKb967f12dsenTQ/s320/IMG_2598.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Strange things happen when you have children. Well maybe not strange, I don&#39;t know what a good word for it would be. Before you have children, you live in this blissful, little self-involved world. A world in which you don&#39;t have to worry about what others will and will not like for dinner, or about what others think about the music your listening to on the radio, or about scheduling errands in- between nap times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I&#39;ve recently found myself missing adult conversation. A conversation that not only involves no cartoon characters, but is also uninterrupted. I can not tell you the last time I had an actual conversation with someone. Crazy, right?! My conversations usually start off &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, but two lines in my mind starts wondering...&#39;where is &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;Addi&lt;/span&gt;&#39; or &#39;gosh Conner&#39;s right eye looks really red, I wonder what that&#39;s about&#39;...then I try to meander back into the conversation, but by that time &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;I&#39;m&lt;/span&gt; completely lost and so I politely exchange &#39;good-bye&#39;s&#39; and chalk that one up to another incomplete conversation. You would never imagine that being a problem before you have children. I mean, it&#39;s basic...we learn to communicate starting at the age of one. I can&#39;t multi-task to save my life. Well maybe to save my life, but &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;that&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; another story. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It&#39;s crazy the way kids change your life. For instance, when a Justin &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Bieber&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_5&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Miley&lt;/span&gt; Cyrus song comes on the radio, Addi makes me listen to the song. It drives me crazy. I&#39;m fairly sure that she doing this to punish me. I dislike all Justin &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_6&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Bieber&lt;/span&gt; songs, especially the ones involving the difficulties finding love. Shut it, Justin &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_7&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Bieber&lt;/span&gt;...your what, 12,13,14, &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_8&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;idk&lt;/span&gt;, you have a great head of hair, and your worth millions. Finding love should be the last thing he is worried about. If he sang about the difficulties surrounding the purchase of a Bugatti, I would be more apt to listening to it. I&#39;m getting off-point. I knew having children would make life....&#39;interesting,&#39; but I can honestly say I had no idea how life would continue to change with everyday. Children make you slow down, speed up, prioritize, and contemplate your very &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_9&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;existence&lt;/span&gt;. Crazy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/8622637171469348855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/conversation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/8622637171469348855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/8622637171469348855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/conversation.html' title='Conversation.'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VrtUHy4kAZ443jAqCgraHRBjgk5a3nrhTztwwmb-w_QjAHTZTkwuqCV3RjDew4HpS13yTD78X_aFAn3N23l5ssrygEMNGKbGTTLnVOdwX01yuaDgZ40xNpkfNHRPVKb967f12dsenTQ/s72-c/IMG_2598.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-3680126639687202793</id><published>2010-09-06T18:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T19:07:12.941-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our generation.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9seYl_T4p-wQfTcu7tif8i__uCeFt5WtZaHXFOUEnyNzpYJhuW3lZMYI0G2DHvvCOIyCo58GPYE8nubIMUF8OnItdjfV9V14nmuE6zZb_qbtjeph-IFrczDt12zwio5_U1m7r3Afays/s1600/IMG_2656.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513984695229748018&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9seYl_T4p-wQfTcu7tif8i__uCeFt5WtZaHXFOUEnyNzpYJhuW3lZMYI0G2DHvvCOIyCo58GPYE8nubIMUF8OnItdjfV9V14nmuE6zZb_qbtjeph-IFrczDt12zwio5_U1m7r3Afays/s320/IMG_2656.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I realized another big pet peeve of mine...(are you ready for it???) It&#39;s parents that pay zero attention to their children! We went to the park today for a family picnic, and there was a gathering of adults and children on the opposite side of the playground. The parents were all sitting around talking, while their small children were playing on the playground equipment with no supervision. If you are a parent and your child is under the age of 6, you should at all times be attentive to that child. The playground is a foreign environment with strangers all around. The entire playground thing kind of freaks me out, playground+&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;magen&lt;/span&gt; (as a child)=ER visit. Every single time I take the kids to the playground, there are children running around climbing all over Addi and Conner. Trying to run over them to get to the slide they want, or the stairs they just have to climb on. There are no &#39;excuse &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;me&#39;s&lt;/span&gt;&#39; or &#39;&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;sorry&#39;s&lt;/span&gt;&#39;. They just figure they are faster, so they will just do whatever they please. Well not while I&#39;m around. If your parent can&#39;t find the time to discipline you, then I will be more than happy to teach you some manners. It absolutely blows my mind. It makes me wonder, if they take their children to swimming pools and just let them jump in while they sit in their chairs and sunbathe. Probably, I mean, &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;c&#39;mon&lt;/span&gt; there are lifeguards at swimming pools...that&#39;s practically a babysitter, right?! I get so tired of watching kids practically falling from 12 ft high ladders, while their parents sit on the bench and text on their phones. Or better yet, there was a small boy, probably 3 years old swinging tonight on the playground. He was terribly upset that he couldn&#39;t get off the swing (his legs weren&#39;t even long enough yet), and he kept crying out for his mom to come to him. She apparently heard him, but didn&#39;t come over. After about 10 minutes of this, Madison finally stepped in and asked the child if he wanted some help or if he wanted her to help him over to his mom. He was kind of stunned that someone was trying to help him, and he grew quiet, but the tears were still streaming down his face. One of the other kids that was in his &#39;group&#39; went over and told his mom, and she replied with &#39;&#39;you can tell him to get off it by himself, and put his shoes on and then he can come to me.&#39;&#39; What kind of b.s. is spewing from her brain to make her believe that is &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;?! He is afraid to get off the swing and his own mother won&#39;t come to help him? Or his father, lets not forget his father. I have to say, my generation is terribly disappointing when it comes to rearing children. I&#39;m not saying I am perfect by any means, but when my children call for me, I am there. Here are my stances as a parent. 1.) children must wear clothing when going into public places. At the age of 5 they should not be entering &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_5&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart while only wearing underwear. That is ridiculous. 2.) children should be watched at all times when in a public environment. You should be allotted a number of children that you can watch, just like a teacher is allotted a number of children she/he can teach. 3.) children should understand discipline and know respect for themselves and others. apparently our next generation is going to have the biggest problem with this. 4.) text messaging while around children should be strictly prohibited. it&#39;s just as bad as driving while &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_6&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_7&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;i&#39;ve&lt;/span&gt; noticed that i can&#39;t pay attention to anything else while i text, so i have started leaving my phone in another room so that i can devote all attention to my children. a text message is not a high priority conversation, i don&#39;t care what you say, it&#39;s not. if someone can&#39;t take the time to call you and tell you something over the phone, it&#39;s not important enough to take time away from your kids to read and respond to. plain and simple. 5.) anyone under the age of 6 should not even comprehend what pop is. i hate it when my parents give the kids pop, but no matter how many times i ask them not to, they laugh it off and do it anyway. 6.) people should be given an i.q. test before they are allowed to bring home their children. or some sort of test, maybe a test of attention span...&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_8&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;idk&lt;/span&gt;. either way, if you don&#39;t pass the test than you don&#39;t get to raise your children. you should have to study your ass off to pass the test, you are going to be responsible for another human being for the next 17 (in Missouri) or 18 years. That&#39;s a long time! That is a lot of decisions to make!!! That&#39;s a lot of ER visits and parent teacher conferences. It&#39;s a lot of work and parenting shouldn&#39;t be taken lightly. 7.) children should have a strict bedtime routine enforced. they thrive on routines and &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_9&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;guidelines&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_10&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;that&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; how they learn. so &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_11&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;nap time&lt;/span&gt;, dinner time, and bedtime are three routines that should be in place and &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_12&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;adhered&lt;/span&gt; to as best as possible. That&#39;s all I can think of right now, but I have plenty...trust me. I just get so sick of the way I find younger individuals raising their children today. All you have to do is devote some attention to the children that YOU are RESPONSIBLE for. &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_13&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;IDK&lt;/span&gt;, people are crazy. Different kinds of crazy... I can&#39;t change the world, but at least I can raise two children that will grow up to HOPEFULLY be responsible, respectful, and independent adults. That&#39;s really the only objective to parenting. UGH! &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_14&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;. I will now step down from my soap box. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/3680126639687202793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/our-generation.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3680126639687202793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3680126639687202793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/our-generation.html' title='Our generation.'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX9seYl_T4p-wQfTcu7tif8i__uCeFt5WtZaHXFOUEnyNzpYJhuW3lZMYI0G2DHvvCOIyCo58GPYE8nubIMUF8OnItdjfV9V14nmuE6zZb_qbtjeph-IFrczDt12zwio5_U1m7r3Afays/s72-c/IMG_2656.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-2061254347146818967</id><published>2010-09-05T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T09:20:38.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Balmas Family Vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMX8Db4fM0ssZP3i3tmIamjHlHTtM03iDoP8WVyaZegv_Eu9qJk-O1cHzUiaKSamDJapQgvqGuxXwWHiUQ1rSEkdFnGztap29ty9PE6fMp4nBkV288e_qLlG4YDqV5eYawfnPlrj7d-g/s1600/IMG_2410.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513631542325452850&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMX8Db4fM0ssZP3i3tmIamjHlHTtM03iDoP8WVyaZegv_Eu9qJk-O1cHzUiaKSamDJapQgvqGuxXwWHiUQ1rSEkdFnGztap29ty9PE6fMp4nBkV288e_qLlG4YDqV5eYawfnPlrj7d-g/s320/IMG_2410.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, we tried the whole &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Branson&lt;/span&gt; weekend vacation with the kids...it was pretty much an epic fail. I guess we kind of assumed that would happen, but not to the extent that it actually played out! We finally made it up to &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Branson&lt;/span&gt; at about 3 in the afternoon, after many tears and lots of screaming (by both myself and the kids!). So much for getting up there early the first day! Oh well. We &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;successfully&lt;/span&gt; found our hotel after only one wrong turn, and one pit stop to look at the directions. We checked in and everything was great for a little while. Upon arriving to our room, Derrick said he smelled &#39;wet dog.&#39; I of course did not smell &#39;wet dog,&#39; &#39;wet paint&#39; maybe, but not &#39;wet dog.&#39; We carted all of the luggage up to the room and &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;layed&lt;/span&gt; everything out. Addi marked her bed, while Conner ran around the room trying to size everything up. We started calling around and almost every attraction we wanted to take the kids to closed at 5, so we had to put off everything until day 2. That was fine, because we were planning on being up there for 3 days. We found a k-mart, bought everything we managed to forget to pack. We then drove in a very large circle around town to try and look for a spot to eat dinner, only to end up right back across the street from k-mart at Montana Mikes. Dinner was fine, except for the mini-meltdowns happening every 3 minutes on opposite sides of the table. Conner tossing his onion rings across the restaurant like he was training for the next Olympic &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;frisbee&lt;/span&gt; team, and Addi opposing any food what-so-ever. After we packed up dinner, we ran across the street to buy milk for the kids. Addi of course had to go to the bathroom, so we made our way to the ladies restroom. It smelled absolutely disgusting!!! I &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_5&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;could&#39;ve&lt;/span&gt; sworn someone with a &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_6&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;UTI&lt;/span&gt; just got done peeing all over the floor. YUCK! Anyways, I said &quot;yuck, it smells disgusting in here!&quot; Addi then said &quot;mom, no, &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_7&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;that&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; just how bathrooms smell, like pee.&quot; Thanks Addi, for pointing that out. Anyways, after our nasty trip to the restroom we headed back to the hotel, to get suited up to head down to the pool. We jumped in the pool and it was freezing cold. I started laughing, because Derrick couldn&#39;t get his teeth to stop chattering. So we ventured over to the hot tub, the kids liked it, but ultimately it was too hot to keep them in it for long. We found ourselves back up in our hotel room at 8:30 with absolutely nothing to do. We started trying to put the kids down at 9:30. Needless to say, it &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_8&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;didn&#39;t&lt;/span&gt; work. The kids and Derrick went down about 11:00. I finally got to sleep sometime right after midnight, only to be awoken by Conner at 12:30. I put him back to sleep, &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_9&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;layed&lt;/span&gt; back down and fell back to sleep at about 1. Addi woke up at 2, complained that she was scared and I let her crawl into bed with Derrick and I. She woke up again at 2:30 saying that she heard tigers outside our hotel room door. I tried to explain to her that our hotel had a strict &#39;no tigers allowed&#39; policy, but ultimately she didn&#39;t buy it. She was wide awake listening for a roar, when Conner cried out again at 3. He was now wide awake. I was exhausted!!! Derrick was trying to get Addi to fall back to sleep and I now found myself rocking Conner for 2 hours to no avail. At about 5 am he finally passed out on my chest. I &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_10&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;layed&lt;/span&gt; him down in bed with me, and he snoozed away. He was apparently dreaming, because he kept hitting me in the face or pinching the backside of my arm for almost an hour. Addi was fast asleep curled up in Derricks arms, and I was laying there wide awake watching the sun come up. I fell back to sleep around 6 and of course Addi woke up at 7:30. Only long enough to say a couple of words and drift back to sleep. I heard her wake up, and of course I was wide awake. I &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_11&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;layed&lt;/span&gt; there in bed for at least another hour, before I made my way down to the front desk, begging them for a refund on our second night. They understood my predicament and waived the 24 hour cancellation notice, and gave us 15% off our next stay with them. Thank goodness. I couldn&#39;t handle too much more of that! Addi and Derrick slept in until almost 9. Conner slept in until about 10:15, until apparently we made too much noise packing our bags to leave. We went and checked out Butterfly Palace, which was a lot of money for little entertainment. Addi loved it though. Then we took went on &#39;ride the ducks.&#39; That was a lot of fun, only a couple meltdowns on that excursion...so I chalk that one up to a &#39;win.&#39; We headed back home at about 4 the next afternoon, after we had only arrived 26 hours prior. It&#39;s funny, I had this cute little trip planned for the family, and not a single thing worked out like it was supposed to. That&#39;s &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_12&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; though, I will have &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_13&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;plenty&lt;/span&gt; of memories of our first family vacation, and ultimately Addi doesn&#39;t think there was anything wrong with our trip. Next year, maybe we will try two days, but until then, I&#39;m &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_14&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; with just venturing up to &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_15&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Branson&lt;/span&gt; for the day and sleeping in my bed at night!!!&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/2061254347146818967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/balmas-family-vacation.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/2061254347146818967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/2061254347146818967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/09/balmas-family-vacation.html' title='Balmas Family Vacation'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMX8Db4fM0ssZP3i3tmIamjHlHTtM03iDoP8WVyaZegv_Eu9qJk-O1cHzUiaKSamDJapQgvqGuxXwWHiUQ1rSEkdFnGztap29ty9PE6fMp4nBkV288e_qLlG4YDqV5eYawfnPlrj7d-g/s72-c/IMG_2410.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-3213075820213683885</id><published>2010-08-31T14:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T14:45:59.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIF3QMRFccEE89FC7UwtI8d3WVgkYC9WOoItK0W7ooNltYs8lgdq15pxSylmW9najyLgp2wZ0V71B8KYPXsGH2_LByNzvuYELNxIE3NP7MiGrpuxL1OpSPMwD_Or6qkWPEIJ9cMQ6w1yM/s1600/IMG_1286.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511692085723073250&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIF3QMRFccEE89FC7UwtI8d3WVgkYC9WOoItK0W7ooNltYs8lgdq15pxSylmW9najyLgp2wZ0V71B8KYPXsGH2_LByNzvuYELNxIE3NP7MiGrpuxL1OpSPMwD_Or6qkWPEIJ9cMQ6w1yM/s320/IMG_1286.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin02l5AexJFmb54MmEOz_kK3jnwfRG12Z2iIkL4t9wu-mBEIemrJW8Ch-hnthGD2jGbPZKIuL3L2A3jMc9p1zc194PSiG-yH17ORLSEC5j7xJHPJF2SvIA6bNGLsQZi2sRr4UrSimysW4/s1600/IMG_1143.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before you have kids, you can&#39;t appreciate the humor that children provide. You just don&#39;t understand, it&#39;s impossible. That being said...it&#39;s been a rough week around here, mostly involving the kids. This week I feel like someone &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;buried&lt;/span&gt; my body in the sand, and only my head is poking out with the tide about to roll in. The great thing about kids is they always sense tension and they try to break it. Maybe &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;subconsciously&lt;/span&gt;, but however they do it...it works. I was roaming around online trying to look for a cheap &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Branson&lt;/span&gt; hotel for this week, when Addi runs into the room and says &quot;mom you should probably come look at this!&quot; So I bolt into &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;Conner&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; room, only to find him STANDING UP on his diaper changing station...after my brain took 2 seconds to try and figure out how he got up there in the first place, I immediately scooped him up and placed him on the ground. Upon doing so, I didn&#39;t even notice that he was covered in diaper rash creme. I walked back to the kitchen, made a glass of apple juice and returned to &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;Conner&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; room...Wondering what that strange smell is. I sat there for a second, noticed the diaper rash ointment was exactly where it was supposed to be, so that couldn&#39;t be it...right?! Looked around, finally looked at Conner...really looked at him. There is a strange smiley face painted on the left side of his face in diaper rash ointment. His hair has been partially spiked with the same paste, and Silas was apparently a victim of the ointment crime too....Poor boys. It was also all over Addi&#39;s shirt, covering Buzz &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_5&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Lightyear&lt;/span&gt;, wiped all over the diaper changing station, and had now made its way to the couch. Moments like these really make you appreciate the humor that children provide. Yes, it will be more work for me to clean up the mess, but ultimately the one hard laugh it provided me with is enough of a high, to make me forget about the clean up process. Oh, and if your wondering...I asked Addi why she covered the boys in the diaper rash cream and she said &quot;I wanted them too look like they had bird poop on them.&quot; I really don&#39;t know where she gets this stuff? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I type this right now, Silas is pelting me with fruit loops. I don&#39;t know why, (last time I checked, he liked them?) but I know that when he is done, he will stop...and for now it&#39;s strangely funny to have to type/dodge cheerios at the same time. I figure he is just trying to improve my hand/eye coordination. Maybe &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_6&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;I&#39;ve&lt;/span&gt; lost it. Oh well!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/3213075820213683885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3213075820213683885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/3213075820213683885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-life.html' title='My Life.'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIF3QMRFccEE89FC7UwtI8d3WVgkYC9WOoItK0W7ooNltYs8lgdq15pxSylmW9najyLgp2wZ0V71B8KYPXsGH2_LByNzvuYELNxIE3NP7MiGrpuxL1OpSPMwD_Or6qkWPEIJ9cMQ6w1yM/s72-c/IMG_1286.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-2735705660835772642</id><published>2010-08-29T07:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T07:43:27.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One bad mother.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzO8MX2ta2e4kEMubR2fwlKsjXdT4dAVuyVNQ63GjpIPBsPFvNx8HuSIKiMhM7h5BRT1vwCRSEsgV6W_AH1vTKnIACANnL4MPsNYHbRyj0p2pr2ysdVuTuMyrfMX5VQDE3Kf6pBb1Oys/s1600/IMG_2355.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510842260556537298&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzO8MX2ta2e4kEMubR2fwlKsjXdT4dAVuyVNQ63GjpIPBsPFvNx8HuSIKiMhM7h5BRT1vwCRSEsgV6W_AH1vTKnIACANnL4MPsNYHbRyj0p2pr2ysdVuTuMyrfMX5VQDE3Kf6pBb1Oys/s320/IMG_2355.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This week I am feeling like a horrible mother! I don&#39;t know if my heads not in the game, or what?! Thursday Addi drank half a bottle of &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;children&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;ibuprofen&lt;/span&gt;, Friday I double-dosed her Singular without knowing it, and Saturday I lost her in Root 03. Seriously?! What is wrong with me??? Thursday morning Conner was walking through the house with Addi&#39;s plastic &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;sippy&lt;/span&gt; cup and he tripped and fell on it. He pushed his teeth backwards and tore the little piece of skin that is normally attached to your two upper teeth. Once I got the bleeding to stop, I gave him some &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_3&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;ibuprofen&lt;/span&gt; then recapped the bottle and set it up on the kitchen island. At that point in time all I was worried about was cleaning up blood and trying to get Conner to let me see his teeth. Later that day I was making dinner and apparently Addi came up behind me and stole the half-full bottle of &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_4&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;ibuprofen&lt;/span&gt; off the counter. It&#39;s amazing, she is the most clumsy child until it comes time to do something she isn&#39;t supposed to. Well, she figured out the &#39;child-proof&#39; cap and drank what was left in the bottle. She came into the kitchen after she had done it and held up the bottle and said &quot;mom, I drank all the medicine.&quot; I flipped out, called poison control and they said she would be fine. I got so lucky! &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_5&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;That&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; actually the second time I have had to call poison control in 6 months...Conner ate part of a fireplace petroleum log a couple months prior...he was fine too, they said it was mostly saw dust...thank you Jesus! Poison control is going to start charging me a yearly fee...&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_6&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;. j/k. Well then Friday night I went with Lauren to &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_7&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; and Derrick kept the kids and started their bedtime routine. I got home and he went straight to sleep, so I asked Addi if dad had given her medicine to her...she said no, so I gave her the Singular. Derrick woke up right as I was putting her in her bed and he said &quot;you didn&#39;t give her the Singular again did you?&quot; UGH! Yes, yes I did. Because I thought I could trust my almost three year old to tell me the truth (stupid, I know!) and I would assume that if he gave her the Singular, he would&#39;ve told me. He told me I &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_8&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;should&#39;ve&lt;/span&gt; asked him, and that he wouldn&#39;t have ever thought to tell me that before going to bed. Whatever...&lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_9&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;that&#39;s&lt;/span&gt; a battle I will never win. He is a Scorpio...he was born to argue. Then last night we were leaving dinner, and the 11 adults in the group had passed around the kids all night, and we all thought Addi was with uncle Will. Well no one had Addi, we all flipped out and started running around trying to find her...turns out she went back to look at the fish in the tanks without telling anyone. Some elderly people helped her up onto a chair and watched over her for the 2-4 minutes that she was with them. Ugh, who freaking loses their child?! &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_10&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;Idk&lt;/span&gt;, whats going on. I feel like I have failed this week. Fail, with a capital &#39;F.&#39; Nervous about what could happen today, so we are just going to hide out in the house, with no medicine, or fireplace logs, or super hard &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_11&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;sippy&lt;/span&gt; cups. &lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/2735705660835772642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-bad-mother.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/2735705660835772642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/2735705660835772642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-bad-mother.html' title='One bad mother.'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzO8MX2ta2e4kEMubR2fwlKsjXdT4dAVuyVNQ63GjpIPBsPFvNx8HuSIKiMhM7h5BRT1vwCRSEsgV6W_AH1vTKnIACANnL4MPsNYHbRyj0p2pr2ysdVuTuMyrfMX5VQDE3Kf6pBb1Oys/s72-c/IMG_2355.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8205878990528993122.post-5596705754251014188</id><published>2010-08-28T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-28T11:32:01.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Judgemental...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBaPAuukIDx71_dBP_KXx-Hdd88CfspEiw1aLm3Lge0fMxnaAK0BQbB0wMNtRiQIOuj9EXigFVMucWKDvx6ylOhyphenhyphenaELitbznWXwkUl6zU_znDCgC08WRcmC2TtC32LsILjhHPtlOa9JU/s1600/IMG_0848.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510529128747848482&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBaPAuukIDx71_dBP_KXx-Hdd88CfspEiw1aLm3Lge0fMxnaAK0BQbB0wMNtRiQIOuj9EXigFVMucWKDvx6ylOhyphenhyphenaELitbznWXwkUl6zU_znDCgC08WRcmC2TtC32LsILjhHPtlOa9JU/s320/IMG_0848.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I ran out to &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_0&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-error&quot;&gt;DG&lt;/span&gt; yesterday to get some spray &#39;n wash and I ran into a &#39;crazy mom.&#39; You know the mom that shouts things like &quot;if you don&#39;t get your butt over here right now, I swear it will be straight to bed when we get home&quot; at the top of her lungs. That mom, that says exactly what she means, but about 15 &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_1&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;decibels&lt;/span&gt; louder than you would ever dream of. For a second I sat there judging her, but then I started envying her. Earlier in the day I had uttered that same statement to Addi. The only difference was my system of delivery. I bent down right next to her and whispered it in her ear, in hopes that none of the 5 people in the George Washington Carver park could hear that I was disciplining my child. That&#39;s crazy...why can we no longer discipline our children like we deem necessary?! I&#39;m not saying abuse is any means of discipline, but people are so judgemental anymore. Addi will throw a huge fit in the middle of the store if she doesn&#39;t get what she wants, and it&#39;s incredibly frustrating. Everyone looks at you awkwardly for letting your child scream, but when you sit her down and tell her she will be &#39;making a trip to the bathroom if her attitude doesn&#39;t improve&#39; the looks become more rude...like what you said to her was completely vulgar and out of line. My IQ is higher than our former president, I am not an idiot and I understand what is right and wrong. If I feel like I should be disciplining my child, I will do so. But anyways, that &#39;crazy mom&#39; really isn&#39;t so crazy, she is just very forthright and &lt;span id=&quot;SPELLING_ERROR_2&quot; class=&quot;blsp-spelling-corrected&quot;&gt;unapologetic&lt;/span&gt;. That would technically make her more sane than crazy. Go figure. Time to stop judging people, you never know when you will land in their shoes.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/feeds/5596705754251014188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/08/judgemental.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/5596705754251014188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8205878990528993122/posts/default/5596705754251014188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://magenbalmas.blogspot.com/2010/08/judgemental.html' title='Judgemental...'/><author><name>Magen Balmas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11382372164524140580</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBaPAuukIDx71_dBP_KXx-Hdd88CfspEiw1aLm3Lge0fMxnaAK0BQbB0wMNtRiQIOuj9EXigFVMucWKDvx6ylOhyphenhyphenaELitbznWXwkUl6zU_znDCgC08WRcmC2TtC32LsILjhHPtlOa9JU/s72-c/IMG_0848.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>