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/><category term="snowman pillow" /><category term="mommy" /><category term="decorations" /><category term="birthday" /><category term="stress" /><category term="vacation" /><category term="traditions" /><category term="featured blogger" /><category term="upset" /><category term="reindeer" /><category term="conspiracy" /><category term="daylight saving time" /><category term="Saturday" /><category term="party" /><category term="family vacation" /><category term="diapers" /><category term="finger painting" /><category term="weekend" /><category term="Christmas tree" /><category term="Pudgie" /><category term="trick or treat" /><category term="surviving" /><category term="time" /><category term="aggressive" /><category term="stubborn" /><category term="allergies" /><category term="clenaing" /><category term="poetry" /><category term="duck" /><category term="sippy cup" /><category term="idiots" /><category term="pumpkin" /><category term="potty training" /><category term="chaos" /><category term="Fall" /><category term="North Gower" /><category term="snow" /><category term="Spring forward" /><title>The Perils of a Working Mom</title><subtitle type="html">I am the mom of one wonderful little boy, born on December 25th, 2008.  Liam is my pride and joy.  He is an amazingly good boy and I love every second I spend with him.  I work in daycare with infants and toddlers.  And as much as I would love to be a stay at home mom, the reality is that I just can't.  I need to be a working mom.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>190</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom" /><feedburner:info uri="theperilsofaworkingmom" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYARns_eCp7ImA9WhRbFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-4687277737033372323</id><published>2012-02-05T14:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T14:29:07.540-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-05T14:29:07.540-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conversations with Liam" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Liam" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="talk" /><title>Conversations With Liam</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
As the days and weeks go on, the things Liam says are get more and more interesting. &amp;nbsp;Sometimes, they are simple, random comments.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;"I want to buy a stock car and race it really fast. &amp;nbsp;And I want to buy a derby car and crash it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: orange; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;"Mommy, here's a marker for you. &amp;nbsp;But don't colour on yourself with it. &amp;nbsp;Wait for me to get you a paper."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;"Daddy, go and put on a handsome shirt, so you can be like me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;"I want to be Iron Man when I grow up."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Ashely: "Liam, can I carry you?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Liam: "Yes, but I am NOT a baby."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;Other times, they are full conversations.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;While having, we are having soup, Liam is having mac and cheese.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Mommy, you make good, very good soup."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Would you like some?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Eww! No, I don't like soup. &amp;nbsp;You can just make it for Daddy."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Five minutes after opening a new hot wheels car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Mommy where is my shark car?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "I don't know, you'll have to look for it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I need you to look for it. &amp;nbsp;Please help me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Where did you have it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "It was in my hand. &amp;nbsp;Not it's not. Can you find it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;And this is the conversation we had on the way home from daycare Friday night. &amp;nbsp;I had been told at pick up that Liam had a rough start to the day, that he was very grumpy and not listen, also that he threw his shoes and was put on a time out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Were you grumpy and not listening to Terri this morning?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Did you have to go on time out?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "How come?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Because."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "What did you do that made Terri put you on time out."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I threw my shoes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Why did you throw your shoes?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I wanted to play with the fishies in the bucket. &amp;nbsp;And Terri said no."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Why did Terri say no?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I wanted to take the fishies at preschool out of the big bucket and put them away."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "What kind of fishies?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "The ones in the big bucket on second floor. &amp;nbsp;I wanted to but them in the basket with the humpback whales."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Daddy: "Are you talking about the aquarium?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Yes, I wanted to take the fishes out."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "You wanted to take the real fish out of the aquarium?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Yes, I wanted to play with them and put them in the basket with the other fishies."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "The real fish need to always stay in the water in the aquarium."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "But I want to play with them."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Real fish aren't for playing with, they are just for looking at."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "But humpback whales are like fishies, the fishies should go in the basket with the whales."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Not real fish. &amp;nbsp;Toy fish can go in the basket, but real fish always have to stay in water."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "They have to stay in the bucket at preschool?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "OK."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-4687277737033372323?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/QbSxlui4kaE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4687277737033372323/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2012/02/conversations-with-liam.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/4687277737033372323?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/4687277737033372323?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/QbSxlui4kaE/conversations-with-liam.html" title="Conversations With Liam" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2012/02/conversations-with-liam.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0AARn84eCp7ImA9WhRUEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-73097359631332931</id><published>2012-01-22T00:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T00:22:27.130-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-22T00:22:27.130-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="depression" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kickass2012" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="2011" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="2012" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="take control" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="medication" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="writing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="struggles" /><title>Depression Sucks</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
I suffer from depression. &amp;nbsp;I have for about 8 years. &amp;nbsp;I take medication everyday and hope that it continues to keep things under control.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
This past year, most of 2011, things have not been good. &amp;nbsp;My medication did not keep things under control the way it should have. &amp;nbsp;There was no precise trigger to blame. &amp;nbsp;Nor did I just wake up one morning feeling depressed again. &amp;nbsp;I was a slow, gradual descent into a life I do not wish upon anyone.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
At some point last winter, I started to slowly slip back into what would be a year long struggle. &amp;nbsp;In the beginning, I didn't even see the signs. &amp;nbsp;Henry would point it out the changes in my mood or personality and I would instantly deny it or blame it on something else. &amp;nbsp;In March, I saw my doctor. &amp;nbsp;I told her that I was tired all the time. &amp;nbsp;But I didn't tell her anything else. &amp;nbsp;I was still in denial. &amp;nbsp;I thought I was still in control. &amp;nbsp;She suggested SAD (seasonal affective disorder). &amp;nbsp;I agreed and promised to come back if things didn't improve with the weather.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
My energy did not improve, nor did my moods, my motivation my interest in anything, my desire to do interact with anyone or my memory and concentration. &amp;nbsp;Nor was I any more willing to admit that there were issues or problems with any of these things. &amp;nbsp;By the end of the summer, very little in life gave me pleasure. &amp;nbsp;It was a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. &amp;nbsp;I had to push myself to do anything. &amp;nbsp;It was all I could do to make it through the day at work. &amp;nbsp;Aside for going to work and cooking dinner, I did nothing. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
My house was a mess, my gardens (which are normally&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;therapeutic for me) were full of weeds, I had dozens of unfinished projects around the house and yard, Liam and Henry weren't getting the amount or quality of attention that they deserved from me, there really wasn't a single aspect of my life that wasn't affected by this. &amp;nbsp;But I really didn't care. &amp;nbsp;I was full of excuses for my actions and promises to change but I couldn't do a thing about any of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
By the end of the summer, I was finally ready to admit that there were problems. &amp;nbsp;But I still wasn't ready to do anything about them. &amp;nbsp;But it gave me an excuse, a scapegoat. &amp;nbsp;My depression became my excuse for everything that I didn't do, didn't want to do or didn't do correctly. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Finally, in October, I couldn't put it off any longer. &amp;nbsp;I had to see my doctor. &amp;nbsp;Not only did I need a prescription renewal, I needed help.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
By this point I was drowning in feelings of hopelessness, sadness, loneliness and just about every other negative &amp;nbsp;emotion you can think of. &amp;nbsp;My ability to focus and get things done was non existent as was my memory.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
I was practically shaking as I waited to see my doctor, afraid that I wouldn't be able to convince her that there was a problem. &amp;nbsp;But at the same time feeling like I could wait it out a little longer to see if things got better without help. (I knew full well that it wouldn't but that's how my brain was functioning at the time.)&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Within a few short minutes of talking with my doctor, she was giving me a prescription to increase my meds by one dose for three weeks and by another dose for a second 3 weeks if needed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just having that piece of paper in my hand made me feel somewhat better. &amp;nbsp;It is amazing how our brains function sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After the first three weeks, I felt a slight improvement. &amp;nbsp;After six weeks, I felt more improvement but still not enough. &amp;nbsp;I still didn't feel "normal".&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Back to the doctor I went. &amp;nbsp;Again, she was helpful and added a second medication. &amp;nbsp;More than a month of being on a higher dose of my regular meds as well as the second medication and I am feeling much better.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are still day (and probably always will be) where I have to push myself to do things and I still don't have quite then energy that I wish i had, but things are definitely much better.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, i face a new challenge - breaking the habits that I formed while suffering through this past year. &amp;nbsp;But that's another post, for another day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My goal for 2012 is to learn how to control my depression and not have it control me. &amp;nbsp;And to write about all the ups and downs along the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-73097359631332931?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/VqK1MCn4kq0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/73097359631332931/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2012/01/depression-sucks.html#comment-form" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/73097359631332931?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/73097359631332931?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/VqK1MCn4kq0/depression-sucks.html" title="Depression Sucks" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2012/01/depression-sucks.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEGQ3s9eCp7ImA9WhRWE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-3019396476167082009</id><published>2011-12-31T12:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T12:30:22.560-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-31T12:30:22.560-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="depression" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="2011" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="2012" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="take control" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="writing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="struggles" /><title>The Perfect Post . . . Missing In Action</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
A few nights ago, while lying in bed, unable to sleep at around 2:00 in the morning, I had a post about my struggles with depression this past year all figured out. &amp;nbsp;I had it all planned, word for word, in my head. &amp;nbsp;I could even visualize it, typed and published.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
This is not an easy subject for me to write about. &amp;nbsp;I have been wanting to write about it. &amp;nbsp;I think it would help me to write about it. &amp;nbsp;However, every time I try, the words won't come. &amp;nbsp;But this time, it all just came to me when sleep wouldn't.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
I almost got out of bed to write it down or type it out so that I would remember the perfect analogies that I had formed in my head. &amp;nbsp;But I didn't. &amp;nbsp;And now, as I try again to actually write a post, all my thoughts and feelings are a jumbled mess bouncing around in my brain.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Imagine a 1500 piece jigsaw puzzle, dumped on the floor that was already strewn with hot wheels cars, train track pieces and a dozen different types of blocks and you've got &lt;strike&gt;my living room&lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;a good analogy of what is going on in my brain. &amp;nbsp;The puzzle pieces are the the bits of this perfect post, mixed in with everything else that lives in my head.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Some of the pieces will be easy to find and fit back together.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Others will jump out at me but no matter how hard I try, I won't be able to make fit with the rest.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Some will resurface, days, weeks maybe even months from now and will become the beginnings of new posts as depression is a struggle that will always be a part of me.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
And still others will be lost forever.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
I feel that it is time to write about my struggles. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Time to write about my feelings.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Time to write about how I hope to move forward.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Today is not the day. &amp;nbsp;I need to find and piece together at least some small corner of the jigsaw puzzle in my brain. &amp;nbsp;But soon, very soon I will be back with a post about how, in 2012 I am going to figure out how to control my depression and not let it control me like it did in 2011.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-3019396476167082009?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/Hp7XWjWgHXU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3019396476167082009/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/perfect-post-missing-in-action.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/3019396476167082009?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/3019396476167082009?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/Hp7XWjWgHXU/perfect-post-missing-in-action.html" title="The Perfect Post . . . Missing In Action" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/perfect-post-missing-in-action.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUYDSXY9eCp7ImA9WhRWE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-3014354483529173088</id><published>2011-12-31T10:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T10:59:38.860-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-31T10:59:38.860-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birthday cake" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birthday" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="photos" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>Christmas in Photos</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
I couldn't help but do one more post of Christmas photos! &amp;nbsp;I love taking photos and can never find enough places and ways to share them!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: large;"&gt;Christmas And A Birthday - December 25, 2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8pcTatWhKWQ/Tv8s1sLQj3I/AAAAAAAAB_U/hQJkpPgdBhk/s1600/100_2749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8pcTatWhKWQ/Tv8s1sLQj3I/AAAAAAAAB_U/hQJkpPgdBhk/s320/100_2749.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Our new Christmas Eve tradition, baking and decorating sugar cookies for Santa!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9jXUu3wwB3Y/Tv8s4rl2_fI/AAAAAAAAB_c/0GIhwJUg2-s/s1600/100_2764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9jXUu3wwB3Y/Tv8s4rl2_fI/AAAAAAAAB_c/0GIhwJUg2-s/s320/100_2764.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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"I told Santa I wanted a train set . . . and he brought me one!"&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jLjFhx7--tc/Tv8s694tPeI/AAAAAAAAB_k/Ns8bDpnXfp8/s1600/100_2772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jLjFhx7--tc/Tv8s694tPeI/AAAAAAAAB_k/Ns8bDpnXfp8/s320/100_2772.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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"What did you get Daddy?"&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uU7OBgX9Pbo/Tv8s8vhAW3I/AAAAAAAAB_s/k1aawOsMftA/s1600/100_2790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uU7OBgX9Pbo/Tv8s8vhAW3I/AAAAAAAAB_s/k1aawOsMftA/s320/100_2790.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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After the gifts were opened, Liam played with EVERYTHING he got!! &amp;nbsp;He was a happy boy!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uTtddjfc-wo/Tv8s-u49y7I/AAAAAAAAB_0/NmxD0ZHGgDk/s1600/100_2801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uTtddjfc-wo/Tv8s-u49y7I/AAAAAAAAB_0/NmxD0ZHGgDk/s320/100_2801.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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A Christmas Day Birthday Boy means birthday cake for Christmas dinner!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_sPhPpgKB3A/Tv8tAnnt-AI/AAAAAAAAB_8/LC22D0UlZTk/s1600/100_2816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_sPhPpgKB3A/Tv8tAnnt-AI/AAAAAAAAB_8/LC22D0UlZTk/s320/100_2816.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Blowing out the candles!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eOLeCrg2Amc/Tv8tCtR1u7I/AAAAAAAACAE/6Cfr633Hj1w/s1600/100_2832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eOLeCrg2Amc/Tv8tCtR1u7I/AAAAAAAACAE/6Cfr633Hj1w/s320/100_2832.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Showing off his goofy smile and his daycare birthday crown.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cB9JN9ZkGLE/Tv8tEiLDUQI/AAAAAAAACAM/BGUChOc8OK0/s1600/100_2852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cB9JN9ZkGLE/Tv8tEiLDUQI/AAAAAAAACAM/BGUChOc8OK0/s320/100_2852.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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"No, I'm not tired. &amp;nbsp;I want to stay up and play, really, I'm good!"&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"&gt;Christmas Part 2 At Grandpa J and Grandma L's House -&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"&gt;December 27, 2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JoFpRXuObG8/Tv8tHasDXdI/AAAAAAAACAU/a0H3P7C0JsE/s1600/100_2863.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JoFpRXuObG8/Tv8tHasDXdI/AAAAAAAACAU/a0H3P7C0JsE/s320/100_2863.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam and Grandpa J. &amp;nbsp;Liam sat at the table with his Great Grandparents and ate lunch like such a little man. &amp;nbsp;Made mommy very proud!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eWif-Xsnulk/Tv8tJoVA_tI/AAAAAAAACAc/8MayKqSjtp4/s1600/100_2868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eWif-Xsnulk/Tv8tJoVA_tI/AAAAAAAACAc/8MayKqSjtp4/s320/100_2868.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Playing air hockey with cousin Denver.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hFBr2Of8D3I/Tv8tMSwDbzI/AAAAAAAACAk/XHdTRklLYFo/s1600/100_2878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hFBr2Of8D3I/Tv8tMSwDbzI/AAAAAAAACAk/XHdTRklLYFo/s320/100_2878.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Playing air hockey with Aunty Danny.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0SK6veMwHpQ/Tv8tPOL7j5I/AAAAAAAACAs/ZSAWCDjf9t4/s1600/100_2880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0SK6veMwHpQ/Tv8tPOL7j5I/AAAAAAAACAs/ZSAWCDjf9t4/s320/100_2880.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Aunty Danny and her boys, Denver and Liam.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dAECaOalD-Q/Tv8tQ0cyZBI/AAAAAAAACA0/M5Z4AD23emw/s1600/100_2896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dAECaOalD-Q/Tv8tQ0cyZBI/AAAAAAAACA0/M5Z4AD23emw/s320/100_2896.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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"More presents!! &amp;nbsp;Awesome!"&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U-6C-drH0SQ/Tv8tS3Q6BJI/AAAAAAAACA8/3-f9j3q4Em4/s1600/100_2905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U-6C-drH0SQ/Tv8tS3Q6BJI/AAAAAAAACA8/3-f9j3q4Em4/s320/100_2905.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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"Thanks Aunty Teanna and Denver, now I can be a rock star!!"&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YeaTkWtLlNg/Tv8tVkY7JfI/AAAAAAAACBE/JxdVEJa0pbA/s1600/100_2912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YeaTkWtLlNg/Tv8tVkY7JfI/AAAAAAAACBE/JxdVEJa0pbA/s320/100_2912.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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"Is this a reindeer?"&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JX11hh9BswA/Tv8tXprEGsI/AAAAAAAACBM/oxlxnc1mAJU/s1600/100_2917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JX11hh9BswA/Tv8tXprEGsI/AAAAAAAACBM/oxlxnc1mAJU/s320/100_2917.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Hanging out with Uncle Matt.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-3014354483529173088?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/ptOGUXKnKtI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/3014354483529173088/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-in-photos.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/3014354483529173088?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/3014354483529173088?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/ptOGUXKnKtI/christmas-in-photos.html" title="Christmas in Photos" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8pcTatWhKWQ/Tv8s1sLQj3I/AAAAAAAAB_U/hQJkpPgdBhk/s72-c/100_2749.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-in-photos.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcFQH84cSp7ImA9WhRXGUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-455740685466794489</id><published>2011-12-26T13:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T09:26:51.139-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-27T09:26:51.139-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hourly photos" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="photo challenge" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>Christmas Day, Hourly Photo Style</title><content type="html">Andrea, over at &lt;a href="http://www.quietfish.com/notebook/"&gt;A Peek Inside The Fish Bowl&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;posts a Challenge on special occasions such as Christmas and Thanksgiving where the day is documented with a photo taken every hour on the hour.   Participants are encouraged to tweet or blog their photos through the day. &lt;br /&gt;
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This is the second time I have participated in the Hourly Photo Challenge. At Thanksgiving, I used Instagram to tweet my photos. Yesterday, I did the same but have decided to post my photos here as well. &lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KLVQi-YlemY/TvnTvcfn2uI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/mJnzbZdWzmA/s1600/IMG_2651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KLVQi-YlemY/TvnTvcfn2uI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/mJnzbZdWzmA/s320/IMG_2651.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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8:00am. Ripping paper.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kxhBKkTL2Qk/TvnTwPRktaI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/9BOmw4Onv70/s1600/IMG_2653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kxhBKkTL2Qk/TvnTwPRktaI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/9BOmw4Onv70/s320/IMG_2653.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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9:00am. &amp;nbsp;My new coat.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xyN8_70UQiY/TvnTwoPC7SI/AAAAAAAAB9g/Que-SDIl3T4/s1600/IMG_2656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xyN8_70UQiY/TvnTwoPC7SI/AAAAAAAAB9g/Que-SDIl3T4/s320/IMG_2656.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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10:00am. &amp;nbsp;Making stuffing.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HkpRhoOxqNk/TvnTxaVdUxI/AAAAAAAAB9o/UMmZIKkYMLo/s1600/IMG_2660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HkpRhoOxqNk/TvnTxaVdUxI/AAAAAAAAB9o/UMmZIKkYMLo/s320/IMG_2660.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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11:00. &amp;nbsp;Playing with new play dough on a new table.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nbpbzX9yw_A/TvnTxyTe6RI/AAAAAAAAB9w/Ks_F1w86eg0/s1600/IMG_2662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nbpbzX9yw_A/TvnTxyTe6RI/AAAAAAAAB9w/Ks_F1w86eg0/s320/IMG_2662.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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12:00pm. &amp;nbsp;Turkey, ready to go in the oven.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_oYOlchgfWM/TvnTyp74_7I/AAAAAAAAB94/XyEkJ6gf_Fs/s1600/IMG_2664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_oYOlchgfWM/TvnTyp74_7I/AAAAAAAAB94/XyEkJ6gf_Fs/s320/IMG_2664.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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1:00pm. &amp;nbsp;Birthday Cake decorating time.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sVD6xvHtfsk/TvnTzOiL-QI/AAAAAAAAB-A/JVuLx8szlKg/s1600/IMG_2666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sVD6xvHtfsk/TvnTzOiL-QI/AAAAAAAAB-A/JVuLx8szlKg/s320/IMG_2666.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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2:00pm. &amp;nbsp;Still decorating Birthday Cake.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q_0k6ZhPKYU/TvnT3HvArrI/AAAAAAAAB-4/cjvH1IANsbs/s1600/IMG_2686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q_0k6ZhPKYU/TvnT3HvArrI/AAAAAAAAB-4/cjvH1IANsbs/s320/IMG_2686.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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2:15pm. &amp;nbsp;FInished Birthday Cake!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s-bXWnuy3f8/TvnTzphs_mI/AAAAAAAAB-I/Nb_rzhgTv3I/s1600/IMG_2672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s-bXWnuy3f8/TvnTzphs_mI/AAAAAAAAB-I/Nb_rzhgTv3I/s320/IMG_2672.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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3:00pm. &amp;nbsp;Taking advantage of early Boxing Day Sales to order computer parts.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RBv6p9ffdhM/TvnT0V5TBgI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/XQSsCH0LtjM/s1600/IMG_2673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RBv6p9ffdhM/TvnT0V5TBgI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/XQSsCH0LtjM/s320/IMG_2673.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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4:00pm. Grandma and Aunties are here with more presents.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Od0_NVqV-Yw/TvnT0214tdI/AAAAAAAAB-Y/NKf5wJIJS_4/s1600/IMG_2675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Od0_NVqV-Yw/TvnT0214tdI/AAAAAAAAB-Y/NKf5wJIJS_4/s320/IMG_2675.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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5:00pm. &amp;nbsp;Please can I have some turkey?&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wJ3dLZ9ilA4/TvnT1QFYsEI/AAAAAAAAB-g/ycxksChRwpc/s1600/IMG_2677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wJ3dLZ9ilA4/TvnT1QFYsEI/AAAAAAAAB-g/ycxksChRwpc/s320/IMG_2677.jpg" width="319" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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5:00pm. &amp;nbsp;Darn, I forgot to make the cranberries.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Eq20LtXuBWs/TvnT1wXvLbI/AAAAAAAAB-o/YKeX4Ls0MlI/s1600/IMG_2684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Eq20LtXuBWs/TvnT1wXvLbI/AAAAAAAAB-o/YKeX4Ls0MlI/s320/IMG_2684.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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6:00pm. Happy Birthday Liam!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rUxf6PLJLc4/TvnT2tn7LEI/AAAAAAAAB-w/A3qshhe2XxI/s1600/IMG_2685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rUxf6PLJLc4/TvnT2tn7LEI/AAAAAAAAB-w/A3qshhe2XxI/s320/IMG_2685.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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7:00pm. &amp;nbsp;The aftermath.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lbwwnOT0ebg/TvnT3pUsbnI/AAAAAAAAB_A/HyiQ0GkVGXk/s1600/IMG_2690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lbwwnOT0ebg/TvnT3pUsbnI/AAAAAAAAB_A/HyiQ0GkVGXk/s320/IMG_2690.jpg" width="319" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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8:00pm. &amp;nbsp;Trying to convince Mommy that he's not tired.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gOh_Ov9mKeI/TvnT4Ujy7WI/AAAAAAAAB_I/M5U507Ulfxs/s1600/IMG_2692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gOh_Ov9mKeI/TvnT4Ujy7WI/AAAAAAAAB_I/M5U507Ulfxs/s320/IMG_2692.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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9:00pm. &amp;nbsp;Mulled cranberry and amaretto and then bedtime for the grown ups!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-455740685466794489?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/54E6QHbLaV4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/455740685466794489/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-day-hourly-photo-style.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/455740685466794489?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/455740685466794489?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/54E6QHbLaV4/christmas-day-hourly-photo-style.html" title="Christmas Day, Hourly Photo Style" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KLVQi-YlemY/TvnTvcfn2uI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/mJnzbZdWzmA/s72-c/IMG_2651.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-day-hourly-photo-style.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4NRH04cCp7ImA9WhRXE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-391214982011746621</id><published>2011-12-19T20:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T20:19:55.338-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-19T20:19:55.338-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reindeer" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="When I Grow Up" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="christmas carols" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rudolph" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
For the past month or so, Liam has been obsessed with Christmas. &amp;nbsp;He is constantly talking about decorations, Santa and presents. &amp;nbsp;We've been doing everything we can to satisfy his need for all things Christmas. &amp;nbsp;We've been to see Santa, we've written to Santa, we've been to Christmas parties where he got a gift from Santa, we've done Christmas baking, we've decorated and we've watched Christmas specials on TV.&lt;/div&gt;
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Over the past week, since first watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on TV, Rudolph has been at the forefront of his obsession. &amp;nbsp;He sings Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer at every opportunity, from the time he gets up in the morning to the time he goes to bed at night. &amp;nbsp;(I think he's even fallen asleep singing it a couple of times. &amp;nbsp;He is singing it in his bed as I type!)&lt;/div&gt;
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On the weekend, he announced, "Mommy, I want to be Rudolph for Christmas."&lt;/div&gt;
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When his Daddy told him to get a tissue because he had a runny nose, Liam replied, "I don't want a runny nose. &amp;nbsp;I want a red shiny nose."&lt;/div&gt;
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And on the way to work and daycare this morning, he sang Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer to me and then said, "When I grow up, I want to be Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer."&lt;/div&gt;
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I think a trip to the dollar store for some reindeer antlers is in order!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-391214982011746621?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/XO4eYgwWjX0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/391214982011746621/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/rudolph-red-nosed-reindeer.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/391214982011746621?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/391214982011746621?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/XO4eYgwWjX0/rudolph-red-nosed-reindeer.html" title="Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DyQosKc6t60/Tu_g6xMtW-I/AAAAAAAAB80/FRNimg3RrZo/s72-c/Reindeer.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/rudolph-red-nosed-reindeer.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEESH84fip7ImA9WhRQFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-6554668802831510283</id><published>2011-12-11T09:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T09:26:49.136-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-11T09:26:49.136-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cookie" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="baking" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="chocolate" /><title>Chocolate Surprise</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vkKMj6dTxEw/TuS5PTP-0YI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/5BowBKICQtE/s1600/100_2651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vkKMj6dTxEw/TuS5PTP-0YI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/5BowBKICQtE/s200/100_2651.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Ever wondered what you would get if you combined chocolate chips, butterscotch chips and rippled potato chips? &amp;nbsp;No? &amp;nbsp;Me either, but somebody did! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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And since discovering the recipe a few years ago from a co-worker (thanks Elan!) &amp;nbsp;It has been top of my list for Christmas baking and pretty much any event where I have to bring something sweet! &amp;nbsp;Not only are they delicious little candy goodness but they are super easy! &amp;nbsp;So easy that Liam and Daddy can make them! &amp;nbsp;(Henry is a great cook, but not much of a baker!)&lt;/div&gt;
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First you melt a package (300 grams or 2 cups) of chocolate chips and a package (300 grams or 2 cups) of butterscotch chips in a double boiler. &amp;nbsp;(I've been told you can also do this in the microwave, but have never tried that method.)&lt;/div&gt;
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While that's melting, throw some ruffles potato chips in a ziplock bag (fill a large ziplock about 1/3 full) and give it to your little help to crush. &amp;nbsp;You need to end up with about 2 cups of crushed potato chips. &amp;nbsp;You don't want them crushed to dust, but you do want them fairly small.&lt;/div&gt;
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When the chocolate and butterscotch is all melted, stir in the potato chips. &amp;nbsp;Spoon mixture onto wax paper covered cookie sheets. &amp;nbsp;Put in the fridge to set.&lt;/div&gt;
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After about 20 minutes, they will be firm enough to remove from the tray. &amp;nbsp;Try one, they are scrumptious! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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I haven't met a person who hasn't said thought this is a strange recipe, but I also haven't met a person who doesn't love them once they try them!&lt;/div&gt;
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They are so quick and easy to make that they are perfect to package up as gifts or to make for a cookie exchange. &amp;nbsp;(We made 15 dozen yesterday for Henry's work cookie exchange!)&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-6554668802831510283?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/wKamVOq9EY8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6554668802831510283/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/chocolate-surprise.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/6554668802831510283?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/6554668802831510283?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/wKamVOq9EY8/chocolate-surprise.html" title="Chocolate Surprise" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vkKMj6dTxEw/TuS5PTP-0YI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/5BowBKICQtE/s72-c/100_2651.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/chocolate-surprise.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cBQHw6fyp7ImA9WhRQFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-7935107970087409523</id><published>2011-12-10T09:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T09:57:31.217-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-10T09:57:31.217-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Santa" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="party" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="decorations" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="traditions" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas tree" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
We jumped into the Christmas season with a bang last weekend.&lt;/div&gt;
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First night we attended a community Christmas event called Christmas in the Gower. &amp;nbsp;It is a great night for socializing, enjoying homemade cookies, music and of course, Santa! &amp;nbsp;I've been attending this even for years as the North Gower Brownies, Girl Guides and Pathfinders always sing a couple of songs to entertain the crowd. &amp;nbsp;But what I now realize is that this is the perfect place to visit Santa. &amp;nbsp;He arrives on a fire truck, you don't have to go to an insanely busy mall and standing in line for hours. &amp;nbsp;Liam told Santa that he wants a train set and tools for Christmas and we even got a couple of nice pictures!&lt;/div&gt;
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Saturday night we all sat down together on the couch to write Liam's letter to Santa. &amp;nbsp;Although he doesn't quite get the concept of writing to Santa, he did enjoy talking about what he wants for Christmas (a train set, tools and a big Bumblebee Transformer). &amp;nbsp;Daddy and I did most of the composing of the letter, but adding stickers was exciting for Liam!&lt;/div&gt;
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Sunday was Henry's work's Christmas Party for the kids. &amp;nbsp;It was held at a bowling alley. &amp;nbsp;Liam's new favourite thing to do - bowling! &amp;nbsp;He didn't care if he hit any pins as long as he could keep rolling balls down the alley! &amp;nbsp;We had to fight to get a turn!&lt;/div&gt;
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After bowling was lunch and a visit from . . . you guessed it, the big guy himself, Santa Claus, and he had gifts! &amp;nbsp;Apparently bowling makes little boys VERY hungry because our Christmas obsessed Liam had little to no interest in Mr. Claus or the other kids with their wrapping paper and gifts . . . lunch was much more important at that moment! &amp;nbsp;When his name was called, he was shocked to get a present! &amp;nbsp;He got right to work on the wrapping paper and was thrilled to find the big Bumblebee Transformer that he wanted. &amp;nbsp;(We had to provide the gift.)&lt;/div&gt;
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Sunday evening, we gave into Liam's pleas for a Christmas tree! &amp;nbsp;(He'd only been asking for three weeks!) &amp;nbsp;He could hardly contain his excitement as we assembled the tree and put on the lights!&lt;/div&gt;
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Then, I couldn't put hooks on the ornaments fast enough for him! &amp;nbsp;The tree has never been decorated so quickly, but it has also rarely been this fun. &amp;nbsp;When he couldn't get a hook on a branch, he hung it on another decoration. &amp;nbsp;When we suggested that certain decorations should go up higher he showed us where to put it. &amp;nbsp;Now, every morning when we get up and every day when we get home he turns on "his tree" for us all to enjoy.&lt;/div&gt;
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I love that we are starting to build these family traditions together. &amp;nbsp;I love that at almost 3 years old, Liam actually gets it this year. &amp;nbsp;He is so excited for Christmas and it won't get here fast enough for him. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-7935107970087409523?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/BkTYtbAtO6M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/7935107970087409523/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/its-beginning-to-look-lot-like.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/7935107970087409523?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/7935107970087409523?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/BkTYtbAtO6M/its-beginning-to-look-lot-like.html" title="It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yaHzVNMQMEI/TuNp39bsOFI/AAAAAAAAB6g/lu73VBXXP-I/s72-c/100_2556.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/12/its-beginning-to-look-lot-like.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QHRH05fCp7ImA9WhRRFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-4280477735423606741</id><published>2011-11-27T10:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T10:55:35.324-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-27T10:55:35.324-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="snow dragon" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="imagination" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dragon" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Liam" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="talk" /><title>Snow Dragons</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Life with Liam becomes more and more interesting as he can communicate more and more things. &amp;nbsp;And now, it is getting to be even more interesting as he is starting to develop what we can only assume is a very vivid and creative imagination.&lt;/div&gt;
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Right now, it is Snow Dragons. &amp;nbsp;What is a snow dragon, you ask? &amp;nbsp;That's exactly what we wanted to know!&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam has been talking about Snow Dragons for a week now and we have asked everyone he has been in contact with recently if they know what a Snow Dragon is and no one has a clue. &amp;nbsp;The incredible thing is the amount of detail he has come up with about these creatures that he has imagined. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Through countless conversations with Liam about these creatures, this is what we have learned, all quotes from the expert:&lt;/div&gt;
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What do snow dragons look like?&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;"Like dragons but snow dragons are white. &amp;nbsp;They have big wings and they fly far and fast.&amp;nbsp;They roar like a dinosaur."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Where do they come from?&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"They come from the sky, but not this sky, a different sky."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Where do they live?&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"They live in caves."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Do they have friends?&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Yes."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Are their friends people?&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Yes, girls, I think."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Are they big or little?&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"They are big, but sometimes little. &amp;nbsp;The big ones have little ones."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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What do snow dragons eat?&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Sometimes bugs because snow dragons don't like bugs. &amp;nbsp;Snow dragons don't like juice. &amp;nbsp;They drink water."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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On Wednesday morning, when we woke up to the first snow of the year, we learned more about the mysterious creature.&lt;/div&gt;
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"Liam, it snowed last night."&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Did the snow dragons come?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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"I don't know, why?"&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Snow dragons bring the snow. &amp;nbsp;They come with the snow clouds. &amp;nbsp;And they play in the snow."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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On Friday when the snow was all melted, this is what he told me.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"The snow is gone. &amp;nbsp;It melted into water. &amp;nbsp;But it's OK because the snow dragons will come back and bring more another day."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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I have no idea where this sudden surge in imagination came from, but I love it and I hope that it continues! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-4280477735423606741?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/2iFV1-EVvbw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4280477735423606741/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/11/snow-dragons.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/4280477735423606741?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/4280477735423606741?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/2iFV1-EVvbw/snow-dragons.html" title="Snow Dragons" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/11/snow-dragons.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MHQXgyeip7ImA9WhRRFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-569796711622409981</id><published>2011-11-15T19:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T10:57:10.692-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-27T10:57:10.692-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="conversations with Liam" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Liam" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="talk" /><title>Conversations with Liam</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s6ZZe9PX0Us/TsMFPCZF5NI/AAAAAAAAB6M/SFizX9ymUBU/s1600/100_2244_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s6ZZe9PX0Us/TsMFPCZF5NI/AAAAAAAAB6M/SFizX9ymUBU/s320/100_2244_2.JPG" width="140" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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It really doesn't seem like that long ago that Liam's only word was "Ada" for Daddy. &amp;nbsp;But a lot has changed. &amp;nbsp;Since he moved to the preschool aged program at daycare this summer, his language has exploded. &amp;nbsp;And although I miss the toddler talk days when I was "Nonny" instead of Mommy and before bed he said "Lu Lue" for I love you, it is so much fun and (often funny) to have real conversations with my boy!&lt;/div&gt;
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Some of these conversation just need to be recorded forever!!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;While driving in the truck . . .&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Liam: "Mommy, what is this road called?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Me: "Prince of Wales Drive."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Liam: "Is the prince of wales a whale?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;While out with Grandma on Remembrance Day . . .&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;Liam: "Gabba, what's that?" (pointing to her poppy)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;Grandma: "It's a poppy."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;Liam: "Why?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;Grandma: "Because it is Remembrance Day. &amp;nbsp;It's to honour all the men and women who were in the wars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;Liam: "And the Dinosaurs?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;At bedtime . . .&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I love my blankie. &amp;nbsp;Where did you buy it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Your Grandma L made it for you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Why?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Because you were a little baby and needed a blankie to sleep with. &amp;nbsp;She made two, one for your bed at home and one for daycare."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I don't have a blankie to sleep with at preschool anymore."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Why not?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "It's broken." (looking very sad and disappointed)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "What do you mean it's broken?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I don't know. &amp;nbsp;It's just broken."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "What happened to it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Sometimes blankies just break." (getting sadder with every word)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Do you want mommy to talk to Terri tomorrow and find out why your blankie is broken?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Yes. &amp;nbsp;And dragon too." &amp;nbsp;(dragon is his sleep toy)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "OK, I will talk to Terri in the morning."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Thank you Mommy." (big smile and hug)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;**I did talk to Terri the next morning at drop off, Liam's blankie and dragon are both completely fine and he sleeps with both every day. &amp;nbsp;I have no idea where this conversation came from, but it was cute!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;In the bath . . . (This one may get me some spam comments, but it is too funny not to share!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: making a funny groaning noise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "What are you doing?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Just this." (he was holding his penis up and poking his testicles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Why are you doing that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Because. &amp;nbsp;Mommy, what is this?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Umm, your testicles."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I don't like it, please take it off, mommy."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "Pardon?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "I don't like it. &amp;nbsp;Please take it off."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "I can't take it off, it is part of you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: "Why?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Me: "It just is."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Liam: Silently continues to explore, then after a minute looks at me. &amp;nbsp;"Mommy, I think it's just dry skin. I think it will go away by itself."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Stay tuned for more Conversations with Liam as I am sure that there will be many more that I just have to share!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-569796711622409981?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/K2SexkpPFRs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/569796711622409981/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/11/conversations-with-liam.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/569796711622409981?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/569796711622409981?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/K2SexkpPFRs/conversations-with-liam.html" title="Conversations with Liam" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s6ZZe9PX0Us/TsMFPCZF5NI/AAAAAAAAB6M/SFizX9ymUBU/s72-c/100_2244_2.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/11/conversations-with-liam.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YFQ3Y9fyp7ImA9WhRTFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-6356970515350450063</id><published>2011-11-05T10:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T09:51:52.867-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-06T09:51:52.867-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="costume" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="trick or treat" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Halloween" /><title>Trick or Treat!!</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Liam had been talking non stop about Halloween for days leading up to October 31. &amp;nbsp;It seemed as though he actually got the concept this year. &amp;nbsp;He wanted to be a dinosaur, we found a costume at Value Village, it was a little on the small side, but Grandma altered it so that it would fit nicely. We were all set. &amp;nbsp;About a week before Halloween, he even insisted that we decorate! &amp;nbsp;He enjoyed helping Daddy carve a jack-o-lantern.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QK2CXFqQi-c/TrVHmP7ajfI/AAAAAAAAB58/VWxkBJV8s28/s1600/100_2393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QK2CXFqQi-c/TrVHmP7ajfI/AAAAAAAAB58/VWxkBJV8s28/s320/100_2393.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Pumpkin Carving Time!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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The day before Halloween, we tried on the costume to decide what clothes he would wear under it and a melt down happened. &amp;nbsp;He didn't want to wear his dinosaur costume. &amp;nbsp;He thought it was too small. &amp;nbsp;Monday morning, as we left the house to go to daycare, he freaked out when he saw the costume. &amp;nbsp;He said he wasn't going to wear and told me to leave it at home.&lt;/div&gt;
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I wasn't sure what Halloween night would bring. &amp;nbsp;Would we actually go trick or treating? &amp;nbsp;Or would we stay home with an upset little boy.&lt;/div&gt;
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Fortunately, when we got to daycare, he was happy to put his costume on. &amp;nbsp;He wore it all day. &amp;nbsp;He came home excited to go trick or treating. &amp;nbsp;And insisting that Mommy dress up too!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sLk0JSOazTM/TrU_L0BWVjI/AAAAAAAAB5M/gYznSUapH1A/s1600/100_2408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sLk0JSOazTM/TrU_L0BWVjI/AAAAAAAAB5M/gYznSUapH1A/s320/100_2408.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;I'm a dinosaur! &amp;nbsp;Roar!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qpHPe7oMaLY/TrU_Pdx2y_I/AAAAAAAAB5U/sblraobovnw/s1600/100_2415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qpHPe7oMaLY/TrU_Pdx2y_I/AAAAAAAAB5U/sblraobovnw/s320/100_2415.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Mommy is a witch!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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We set out, going to Gabba's house first. &amp;nbsp;Where he insisted that Grandma coming trick or treating with us! &amp;nbsp;And then we were off, to what I expect would be a few houses, maybe out for half an hour or so.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iXSQWKjYVbM/TrU_R5g8uqI/AAAAAAAAB5c/77fD8yQ0ERE/s1600/100_2422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iXSQWKjYVbM/TrU_R5g8uqI/AAAAAAAAB5c/77fD8yQ0ERE/s320/100_2422.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Trick or Treat&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Let's go to people's houses!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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But we kept going and going and going. &amp;nbsp;Our little dinosaur was a very good little trick or treater, knocking on doors, saying Trick or Treat, saying Thank you and Happy Halloween and giving lots of dino roars!&lt;/div&gt;
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After each house, he asked to go to another house and another and another. &amp;nbsp;We finally had to stop him after an hour when he was literally getting too tired to walk. &amp;nbsp;And fortunately too tired to protest!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GoLGcWafS-s/TrU_WpCc_nI/AAAAAAAAB5s/KHkFvuNbPHo/s1600/100_2426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GoLGcWafS-s/TrU_WpCc_nI/AAAAAAAAB5s/KHkFvuNbPHo/s320/100_2426.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Let's go to another house! &amp;nbsp;I want to go to that one!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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The best conversation of the night was at our final stop was at the&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.marlboroughpub.com/index.htm"&gt;Marlborough Pub&lt;/a&gt;. &amp;nbsp;It is a favourite place for all of us to eat. &amp;nbsp;The staff have been making a big deal over Liam since he was a newborn. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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The conversation went like this.&lt;/div&gt;
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Waitress: "You are such a cute dinosaur. &amp;nbsp;I have a chocolate bar for you."&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: "I don't like chocolate."&lt;/div&gt;
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Waitress: (jokingly) "Well, would you like a french fry instead?"&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: "Yes please!"&lt;/div&gt;
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Waitress: "Here you go." Handing him a Mars bar.&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: "Is this like a french fry?"&lt;/div&gt;
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Waitress: "Sure."&lt;/div&gt;
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When we got home, Liam was still holding the Mars bar and talking about it being like a french fry. &amp;nbsp;So, we opened it up and let him try it. &amp;nbsp;Ever since, every time he sees a Mars bar, he recognizes it as being "like a french fry". &amp;nbsp;And the boy, who really didn't like chocolate, now likes Mars bars!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fQV1WwXV6-I/TrU_ZZki_XI/AAAAAAAAB50/RLG5C-ohsHw/s1600/100_2450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fQV1WwXV6-I/TrU_ZZki_XI/AAAAAAAAB50/RLG5C-ohsHw/s320/100_2450.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;Checking out the loot after a fun night of trick or treating.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Since Monday, Liam has been asking if Halloween is over. &amp;nbsp;And making me promise that it will come back next year.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-6356970515350450063?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/2uZDzbCfhZM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6356970515350450063/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/11/trick-or-treat.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/6356970515350450063?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/6356970515350450063?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/2uZDzbCfhZM/trick-or-treat.html" title="Trick or Treat!!" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QK2CXFqQi-c/TrVHmP7ajfI/AAAAAAAAB58/VWxkBJV8s28/s72-c/100_2393.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/11/trick-or-treat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8GSHg9cCp7ImA9WhdaFEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-6591847035219492263</id><published>2011-10-23T20:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T20:07:09.668-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-23T20:07:09.668-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Halloween" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sponsored" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mom central canada" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="candy" /><title>Halloween And Allan's Candy</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
A few weeks ago when the Halloween decorations started appearing in stores, I asked Liam what he wanted to be for Halloween. &amp;nbsp;I expected that at almost 3 years old, he would have an opinion this year. &amp;nbsp;The conversation when like this.&lt;/div&gt;
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Me: "Liam, what do you want to be for Halloween this year?"&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: "Yes, Mommy." (This is his standard answer for when he doesn't understand the question.)&lt;/div&gt;
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Me: "What do you want to dress up as for Halloween?"&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: "A shirt."&lt;/div&gt;
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Me: "You want to be a shirt for Halloween?"&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: "I want to wear a shirt. &amp;nbsp;I just need to wear a shirt."&lt;/div&gt;
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Clearly, at that point, he did not understand the concept of Halloween!&lt;/div&gt;
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Now, however, he does. &amp;nbsp;He decided not long ago that he wanted to be a dinosaur. &amp;nbsp;He is thrilled with the dinosaur costume that we found him and has been practicing his dinosaur growl and asking daily when he gets to wear it.&lt;/div&gt;
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Because this is the first year that Liam even remotely understands Halloween and because we live in the country and in 9 years have never had a single trick or treater come to the door, we don't really have any Halloween traditions yet. &amp;nbsp;Unless buying candy "just in case some one comes" and eating it all ourselves counts as a tradition? &amp;nbsp;I am however looking forward to creating some fun filled family Halloween traditions. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Last year, we visited a local pumpkin patch, which I think was probably the beginning of an annual tradition. &amp;nbsp;We enjoyed a wagon ride and explored the pumpkin patch. &amp;nbsp;This year, given Liam's current obsession with corn fields I expect we will also be making our way through the corn maze.&lt;/div&gt;
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I expect that this year will also see Liam and Daddy carving a pumpkin or two together, which will, after Halloween be cooked into their favourite dessert, pumpkin pie.&lt;/div&gt;
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Regardless of your choice of Halloween traditions, it is impossible to celebrate the holiday without CANDY!!!! &amp;nbsp;This year, Allan's is helping us in the candy department.&lt;/div&gt;
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With Allan's you are getting Canadian made candy from a company that is celebrating it's 77th year in business. &amp;nbsp;Everyone who enjoys candy has at one time or another tried Allan's iconic Big Foot candy that has been teasing our taste buds for more than 25 years!&lt;/div&gt;
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Allan's has three types of individually wrapped, peanut free candy mixes that are available for Halloween. &amp;nbsp;Allan's Intense Jubes and Jellies,&amp;nbsp;Allan's Chewy Rascalz,&amp;nbsp;Allan's Fruit Buddies all of which you can find at Walmart, Loblaws and other key retailers.&lt;/div&gt;
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We have all been sampling some of these Allan's Halloween candies and I can say that if you are a lover of candy, you won't be disappointed in these treats. &amp;nbsp;Keep them hidden if you want any to be left on Halloween night!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;Disclosure - I am participating in the Allan Candy Company program by Mom Central Canada. &amp;nbsp;I received compensation for my participation in this campaign. &amp;nbsp;The opinions on this blog are my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-6591847035219492263?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/Ituvn720UEc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6591847035219492263/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/10/halloween-and-allans-candy.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/6591847035219492263?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/6591847035219492263?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/Ituvn720UEc/halloween-and-allans-candy.html" title="Halloween And Allan's Candy" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/10/halloween-and-allans-candy.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8ARn89fSp7ImA9WhdbGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-4583324915635025268</id><published>2011-10-18T12:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T12:20:47.165-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-18T12:20:47.165-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="donation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sponsored" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mom central canada" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="environment" /><title>Seventh Generation Diaper Donation Program</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
As you will recall, I recently posted about being given the opportunity to try out some&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.seventhgeneration.com/"&gt;Seventh Generation&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;products.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;I signed up for this blog tour for a few reasons, I try to use environmentally friendly products when possible and as I have tried some in the past that have been anything but useful, particularly when it comes to diapers. &amp;nbsp;But one of the big reasons was to be a part of the&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://ca.seventhgeneration.com/diaper-donation"&gt;Seventh Generation Buy One Give One Campaign&lt;/a&gt;. &amp;nbsp;For every package of diapers purchased in October, Seventh Generation will donate one package to a woman's shelter in Canada. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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I was given 4 packages of diapers from Seventh Generation to donate to a shelter of my choice as part of the campaign. &amp;nbsp;It is a wonderful feeling to be able to give these diapers to the local food bank as there are far too many families in our area who can't afford the basics for their children.&lt;/div&gt;
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You can help too, all you have to do is purchase a package of&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://ca.seventhgeneration.com/Diapers-Canada"&gt;Seventh Generation Free and Clear Diapers&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and know that another package will be going to a mom in need somewhere in Canada.&lt;/div&gt;
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Thank you&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://ca.seventhgeneration.com/"&gt;Seventh Generation&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.momcentralcanada.com/"&gt;Mom Central Canada&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;for giving me the opportunity to participate in this wonderful donation program.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Gill Sans Light'; font-style: italic;"&gt;Disclosure – I am participating in the Seventh Generation program by Mom Central Canada.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I received compensation as a thank you for my participation.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The opinions on this blog are my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-4583324915635025268?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/Fr7cygF24Dw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/4583324915635025268/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/10/seventh-generation-diaper-donation.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/4583324915635025268?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/4583324915635025268?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/Fr7cygF24Dw/seventh-generation-diaper-donation.html" title="Seventh Generation Diaper Donation Program" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/10/seventh-generation-diaper-donation.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ABRXo6cSp7ImA9WhdbE0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-2201001906340578459</id><published>2011-10-11T08:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T22:15:54.419-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-11T22:15:54.419-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Loblaws" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Facebook" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Baby and You" /><title>Baby And You - Online Community on Facebook</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
As a mom, I am always excited about places where I can talk about my son and I know that most other moms are the same. &amp;nbsp;And as an avid Facebook user, I was happy to discover &lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Baby.n.you"&gt;Baby and You&lt;/a&gt;, a family-friendly page created by Loblaws where moms and dads can come chat about their kids.&lt;/div&gt;
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You can ask questions, answer questions, look at current fliers, find the closest Loblaws Company store to you, have access to exclusive saving and even participate in contests. &amp;nbsp;They are currently running a contest that will give away $500 worth of Joe Fresh gift cards! &amp;nbsp;And who doesn't love Joe Fresh fashions for the whole family? &amp;nbsp;I know I do!&lt;/div&gt;
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Head on over to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="https://www.facebook.com/Baby.n.you"&gt;Baby and You&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and share with everyone what your Thanksgiving weekend will look like or what your kids are wearing to the festivities this weekend. &amp;nbsp;See you there!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;“Disclosure – I am participating in the Baby and You program by Mom Central Canada on behalf of Loblaw Companies. I received compensation as a thank you for my participation. The opinions on this blog are my own.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-2201001906340578459?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/8nWDsNjFi6w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2201001906340578459/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/10/baby-and-you-online-community-on.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2201001906340578459?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2201001906340578459?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/8nWDsNjFi6w/baby-and-you-online-community-on.html" title="Baby And You - Online Community on Facebook" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/10/baby-and-you-online-community-on.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04EQ3w6cSp7ImA9WhdUGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-767334764682804952</id><published>2011-10-05T21:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T21:51:42.219-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-05T21:51:42.219-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="CHEO" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Denis Brown Boots and Bar" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="club foot" /><title>Club Foot Update</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2GVRBZnrJY/SyrdXEx1CvI/AAAAAAAAALQ/kwF55pee0yw/s1600/100_7390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="125" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2GVRBZnrJY/SyrdXEx1CvI/AAAAAAAAALQ/kwF55pee0yw/s320/100_7390.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;**Note** Liam was born with a club foot and has been dealing with treatments since he was 6 days old. First was a series of six casts over six weeks, then a tendon elongation followed by a final cast for 3 weeks. Then came the really fun stuff . . . Denis Brown boots and bar . . . Liam had to wear these shoes 23 hours a day for 3 months and now continues to wear them at night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Last week, Liam had his annual appointment with his orthopedist, Dr. Jarvis, at CHEO to have his club foot checked. &amp;nbsp;And we can finally say that the end of treatment is in sight.&lt;/div&gt;
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At the end of February after:&amp;nbsp;2 months of casts, a tendon elongation procedure,&amp;nbsp;3 months of wearing his Denis Brown boots and bar for 23 hours a day and 2 years and 9 months of wearing them every night, Liam will be finished with his "sleepy shoes".&lt;/div&gt;
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He will still need follow up appointments at CHEO to make sure his foot stays straight as he continues to grow. &amp;nbsp;We will still have to watch him as he plays to ensure that he is sitting on his bottom, not on his knees. &amp;nbsp;But other than that, everything looks good. &amp;nbsp;Dr. Jarvis was very happy with the progress Liam has made and so are we.&lt;/div&gt;
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When we watch our little boy run around and play it is hard to believe that there was ever a problem, a problem that caused us so much concern, a problem that we have dealt with every day of Liam's life. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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In five months, the "sleepy shoes" will be a memory in the closet to show him when he is older. &amp;nbsp;We will no longer have that daily reminder of how scared we were when they told us, at just minutes old that there was something wrong with his foot.&lt;/div&gt;
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Tonight, as I took Liam upstairs and lay him in his crib, he looked at me and said, "I need my sleep shoes because it is bedtime." &amp;nbsp;I look forward to the night when I can finally tell him that he doesn't need to wear them anymore.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qe3AodIQKJk/To0F4rJD-QI/AAAAAAAAB40/sC6erRZdY4c/s1600/100_2121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qe3AodIQKJk/To0F4rJD-QI/AAAAAAAAB40/sC6erRZdY4c/s320/100_2121.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-767334764682804952?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/AIsQoyHIhJE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/767334764682804952/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/10/club-foot-update.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/767334764682804952?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/767334764682804952?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/AIsQoyHIhJE/club-foot-update.html" title="Club Foot Update" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2GVRBZnrJY/SyrdXEx1CvI/AAAAAAAAALQ/kwF55pee0yw/s72-c/100_7390.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/10/club-foot-update.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYDRnsyfip7ImA9WhdVFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-5916169130396045691</id><published>2011-09-19T09:49:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T09:49:37.596-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-19T09:49:37.596-04:00</app:edited><title>Seventh Generation Giveaway - Winner</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Well, I am late as always, but here it is, the winner of the Seventh Generation Giveaway is:&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;"&gt;ottawamommyproject!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Please e-mail me (nickimcilree@gmail.com) your name and mailing address for your prize!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-5916169130396045691?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/mD_UfxWUhuc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5916169130396045691/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/09/seventh-generation-giveaway-winner.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/5916169130396045691?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/5916169130396045691?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/mD_UfxWUhuc/seventh-generation-giveaway-winner.html" title="Seventh Generation Giveaway - Winner" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/09/seventh-generation-giveaway-winner.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEBQnk4eCp7ImA9WhdWFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-6740789815244748962</id><published>2011-09-08T20:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T20:37:33.730-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-08T20:37:33.730-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sponsored" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="giveaway" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diapers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="environment" /><title>Seventh Generation - Giveaway</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Do you consider yourself to be "Green"? &amp;nbsp;Do you live an environmentally friendly life?&lt;/div&gt;
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I do try to be environmentally conscious. &amp;nbsp;I recycle my cans, plastics and paper. &amp;nbsp;I compost, both in my own compost bin and the city run green bin program. &amp;nbsp;I use cloth shopping bags, reusable water bottles and lunch bags. &amp;nbsp;I don't use a clothes drier, I use a clothes line in my yard. &amp;nbsp;Sure, there are other things that I could be doing but I really do believe that if enough people do the little things, it will make a difference in the long run.&lt;/div&gt;
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Seventh Generation is a company dedicated to providing consumers with an environmentally friendly choice.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nYXUjQRmJs4/Tmle2BSginI/AAAAAAAAB4U/iLT_Aypg6nQ/s1600/logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nYXUjQRmJs4/Tmle2BSginI/AAAAAAAAB4U/iLT_Aypg6nQ/s1600/logo.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a24a13; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 22px;"&gt;Seventh Generation is the nation’s leading brand of household and personal care products that help protect human health and the environment.&amp;nbsp; Established in 1988, the Burlington, Vermont based company remains an independent, privately-held company distributing products to natural food stores, supermarkets, mass merchants, and online retailers across the United States and Canada.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;http://ca.seventhgeneration.com/about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 22px;"&gt;I was given the opportunity to try a package of Seventh Generation diapers and wipes. &amp;nbsp;Having worked in daycare with infants and toddlers for years, I have seen just about every kind of disposable diaper that had been made in the past 13 years. &amp;nbsp;I have seen some "environmentally friendly" and "made from recycled materials" diapers in the past and let's just say that when I became a parent, I knew I wouldn't be spending my money on those diapers. &amp;nbsp;So, I was a little unsure of what to expect from the Seventh Generations Free &amp;amp; Clear Diapers. &amp;nbsp;Luckily, I have been pleasantly surprised with every aspect of these diapers. &amp;nbsp;They fit my busy two and a half year old nicely and stay securely fastened through all the running. climbing, playing and well, just being a boy, that he puts them through. &amp;nbsp;The Seventh Generation Free and Clear Wipes have also performed well in cleaning up many messes including but not limited to the ones in the diapers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 22px;"&gt;I have yet to try any of the Seventh Generation cleaning products, but look forward to doing that in the coming weeks. &amp;nbsp;Join the&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://ca.seventhgeneration.com/community_ca"&gt;Seventh Generation Nation&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;to get access to Seventh Gen information and coupons.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 22px;"&gt;Right now, I have the opportunity for one lucky reader to win a 100% organic cotton Seventh Gen Eco lunch bag, as well as coupons for a FREE package of Seventh Generation Free and Clear Diaper, Free and Clear Wipes and dishwashing products.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 22px;"&gt;To enter this giveaway, share your best tip on how to be more environmentally conscious. &amp;nbsp;Contest closes at midnight on September 16, 2011.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Gill Sans Light'; font-size: 12pt;"&gt;Disclosure – I am participating in the Seventh Generation program by Mom Central Canada.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I received compensation as a thank you for my participation.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The opinions on this blog are my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-6740789815244748962?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/K95pKgpfM7g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/6740789815244748962/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/09/seventh-generation-giveaway.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/6740789815244748962?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/6740789815244748962?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/K95pKgpfM7g/seventh-generation-giveaway.html" title="Seventh Generation - Giveaway" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nYXUjQRmJs4/Tmle2BSginI/AAAAAAAAB4U/iLT_Aypg6nQ/s72-c/logo.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/09/seventh-generation-giveaway.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUDSX48eSp7ImA9WhdXGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-2995438556309252962</id><published>2011-08-31T20:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T20:51:18.071-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-31T20:51:18.071-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="potty training" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Potty Training Tuesday" /><title>Potty Training Tuesday #15</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
The Potty Training Yo-Yo!&lt;/div&gt;
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(Yes, I am aware that it is Wednesday, I am going to say that I am not a day late with this post but almost a week early . . . are you buying it?)&lt;/div&gt;
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We are having a bit of a yo-yo effect happening with Liam's potty training. &amp;nbsp;And although I know it is perfectly normal, I don't like it!!!&lt;/div&gt;
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The weekend before last, the yo-yo was flying high. &amp;nbsp;Liam &lt;u&gt;asked&lt;/u&gt;&amp;nbsp;numerous times to sit on the potty AND peed three times! &amp;nbsp;I was thrilled and hoping that it was the breakthrough that I had been waiting for - the success and interest that indicated that it was time to take potty training to the next level.&lt;/div&gt;
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Through the week, Liam is in daycare full time and sits regularly on the toilet but hasn't had any success yet. &amp;nbsp;There isn't a lit of opportunity at home, during the week for any hardcore potty training, so, I planned to give it a go this past weekend.&lt;/div&gt;
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I think (and hope) that an accident or two in underwear will be what Liam needs to get the idea. &amp;nbsp;He HATES it when his diaper leaks and his pants get wet.&lt;/div&gt;
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Well, let's just say that hard core potty training did not happen this weekend. &amp;nbsp;The yo-yo fell hard, all the way to the floor. &amp;nbsp;There was absolutely NO interest in sitting on the potty all weekend, except when it was being used as a way to avoid bath time. &amp;nbsp;(Bath time is the most dreaded of all times in our house.)&lt;/div&gt;
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So we are still in the wait and what happens phase. &amp;nbsp;We continue to encourage and praise every little step towards our goal, as we anxiously wait for the next opportunity to step it up. &amp;nbsp;Someday he will be ready.&lt;/div&gt;
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People used to tell me that I was lucky that I had some much potty training experience, that it would make potty training my own child so much easier. &amp;nbsp;I always just laughed and joked that my experience and knowledge would probably backfire and my kid would go to kindergarden in diapers. &amp;nbsp;I am now beginning to fear that I jinxed myself! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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Hopefully, I am wrong and the yo-yo will be on it's way back up very soon, because I would really like to not have to buy diapers anymore!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;Stay tuned for more tips, tricks and advice every Tuesday! &amp;nbsp;And please do share your own experiences! &amp;nbsp;I am always looking for ways to make potty training easier for myself, not only at work, but also at home as I will soon be jumping in head first to potty train Liam!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-2995438556309252962?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/GYE3Ncc-Wqw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2995438556309252962/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/08/potty-training-tuesday-15.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2995438556309252962?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2995438556309252962?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/GYE3Ncc-Wqw/potty-training-tuesday-15.html" title="Potty Training Tuesday #15" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/08/potty-training-tuesday-15.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEAFR38_fip7ImA9WhdXEk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-1935471717697918697</id><published>2011-08-24T20:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T20:38:36.146-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-24T20:38:36.146-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Liam" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="preschool" /><title>Almost Wordless Wednesday</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
One of the girls I work with had to go to the preschool this afternoon, when she came back, she handed me a folded piece of paper and said that it was a note from Liam. &amp;nbsp;Here is the note . . .&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q78q6j_qU7o/TlWZF5t1dRI/AAAAAAAAB38/YDOJkpTFG8g/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q78q6j_qU7o/TlWZF5t1dRI/AAAAAAAAB38/YDOJkpTFG8g/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam saw his teacher, Melissa, writing notes and asked if he could write a note for Mommy. &amp;nbsp;She asked what he wanted to write and that's what he told her! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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It totally made my afternoon!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-1935471717697918697?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/vqlmVTdL1Rs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/1935471717697918697/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/08/almost-wordless-wednesday.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/1935471717697918697?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/1935471717697918697?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/vqlmVTdL1Rs/almost-wordless-wednesday.html" title="Almost Wordless Wednesday" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q78q6j_qU7o/TlWZF5t1dRI/AAAAAAAAB38/YDOJkpTFG8g/s72-c/photo.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/08/almost-wordless-wednesday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IFRXs-eSp7ImA9WhdQFUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-2671178247204855431</id><published>2011-08-17T06:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T06:05:14.551-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-17T06:05:14.551-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="When I Grow Up" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Liam" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Kenny Chesney" /><title>When I Grow Up I Want To Be . . . Kenny Chesney</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
As children, we all had many aspirations for our future careers, some realistic, others, not so much. &amp;nbsp;(My younger sister once told my mother that when she grew up she wanted to be a nurse or a horse!) &amp;nbsp;We all have stories and memories of those once upon a time ambitions that were never meant to be. &amp;nbsp;And if we don't remember, well, that's one of the reasons we have mothers! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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I feel that I would be considered a horrible mother if I didn't document my son's future aspirations and career dreams. &amp;nbsp;And of course, my blog would be the most appropriate place to do that!&lt;/div&gt;
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First, a little back story. &amp;nbsp;We have been taking Liam to concerts since he was nine months old. &amp;nbsp;He's seen Sara Evans, Jake Owen, Kenny Chesney, Lady Antebellum as well as coming to this year's CMA Music Fest in Nashville with us. &amp;nbsp;He's always loved music and has been asking for a guitar since we were in Nashville. &amp;nbsp;This past Thursday, we saw Kenny Chesney at Capital Hoedown.&lt;/div&gt;
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Friday, on the way home from work and daycare, "Summertime" by Kenny Chesney came on the radio. &amp;nbsp;Liam immediately started to dance and this conversation followed.&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: (Pointing excitedly to the radio) "That guy, that guy! &amp;nbsp;That guy from the concert. &amp;nbsp;The guy with the hat!"&lt;/div&gt;
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Me: "Yes, that's Kenny Chesney, the guy from the concert."&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: "Miam be like that guy someday. &amp;nbsp;Me want to play guitar and dance at concerts and sing like that guy."&lt;/div&gt;
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Me: "You want to be like Kenny Chesney and have concerts when you grow up?"&lt;/div&gt;
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Liam: "Yep and wear a hat like that guy, at a concert."&lt;/div&gt;
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So, there you have it, my boy wants to grow up to be Kenny Chesney. &amp;nbsp;I think the first song he needs to learn to sing is "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy".&lt;/div&gt;
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Do you think it is too soon to quit our jobs and move to Nashville??&lt;/div&gt;
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(Side Note: By Monday, he was referring to him by name and asking to see the Kenny Chesney movie on TV!)&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-2671178247204855431?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/X0eSc6HQGXA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2671178247204855431/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/08/when-i-grow-up-i-want-to-be-kenny.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2671178247204855431?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2671178247204855431?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/X0eSc6HQGXA/when-i-grow-up-i-want-to-be-kenny.html" title="When I Grow Up I Want To Be . . . Kenny Chesney" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/08/when-i-grow-up-i-want-to-be-kenny.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEERHk-cCp7ImA9WhdRF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-8618682953543965757</id><published>2011-08-07T10:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T10:50:05.758-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-07T10:50:05.758-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="daycare" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mommy Guilt" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="argument" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="field trip" /><title>Some Arguments Just Aren't Meant To Be Won</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&amp;nbsp;Especially the ones you have in your head, with yourself.&lt;/div&gt;
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Friday was Liam's first ever daycare field trip. &amp;nbsp;he was so excited to be going on a school bus to see animals at&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.saunderscountry.com/index.htm"&gt;Saunders Country Critters&lt;/a&gt;. &amp;nbsp;Being a full time working mom and with it being the middler of summer when everyone wants holiday time, I was unable to get the time off work to go with him. &amp;nbsp;Of course, as many of you can well imagine, this triggered my "Mommy Guilt" instincts. &amp;nbsp;And started the argument in my head.&lt;/div&gt;
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"If I was a SAHM, I would have been able to go with him," I thought.&lt;/div&gt;
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"That's stupid, if I was a SAHM, he wouldn't be in daycare to go on a field trip," I reminded myself.&lt;/div&gt;
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"But if I was a SAHM, I could do things like this with him all the time," I pointed out.&lt;/div&gt;
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"But he wouldn't get to go on the bus and have all the friends that he has at daycare. &amp;nbsp;And without a paycheque, I wouldn't be able to afford to do things with him all the time," I argued.&lt;/div&gt;
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It went back and forth like this for awhile until I finally realized that I was never going to win the argument. &amp;nbsp;There is no perfect situation, just the one that is best for our family. &amp;nbsp;Me working full time and having Liam in daycare is the best situation for us right now. &amp;nbsp;We need the paycheque, I love my job and Liam loves daycare. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;i&gt;And for the record, there was absolutely no reason whatsoever for me to feel bad about not going on the field trip with Liam as Henry did take the day off to go along. &amp;nbsp;Liam was thrilled to have Daddy going with him and I was happy that they were getting to have this day together, but "Mommy Guilt" doesn't always look at things in the more realistic manner!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-8618682953543965757?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/ajpIxrzxdz4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/8618682953543965757/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/08/some-arguments-just-arent-meant-to-be.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/8618682953543965757?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/8618682953543965757?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/ajpIxrzxdz4/some-arguments-just-arent-meant-to-be.html" title="Some Arguments Just Aren't Meant To Be Won" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/08/some-arguments-just-arent-meant-to-be.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UBR3ozcSp7ImA9WhdSEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-5213941036913399516</id><published>2011-07-20T21:19:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T21:20:56.489-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-20T21:20:56.489-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="perfect" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="iced tea" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="recipe" /><title>Homemade Iced Tea</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
I've been making homemade iced tea for years and although it has always (well almost always) been good, it has taken me until this month to come up with the perfect blend of ingredients and method for ME!&lt;/div&gt;
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After commenting on twitter that after years of trying, I had finally perfected my iced tea making abilities, I was flooded with requests for the recipe, OK, maybe not flooded, but there were some comments and requests. &amp;nbsp;(The two of you who really did ask for the recipe, I hope you feel special, getting a whole blog post!) &amp;nbsp;So, here it is!&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nicki's Perfect After Years Of Trying Homemade Iced Tea&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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*Note* This is an easy recipe, but not a quick process, it take a couple of hours to make the tea and several hours to chill! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5mJyf6DqJ14/TidFolrXp0I/AAAAAAAABzY/6703QJwka7o/s1600/100_0743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5mJyf6DqJ14/TidFolrXp0I/AAAAAAAABzY/6703QJwka7o/s320/100_0743.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Boil 8 cups of water.&lt;/div&gt;
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Add 12 orange pekoe tea bags.&lt;/div&gt;
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Let sit for 1-2 hours.&lt;/div&gt;
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Remove tea bags.&lt;/div&gt;
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Add 1 cup sugar and 1/2 cup lemon juice.&lt;/div&gt;
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Stir well until sugar dissolves.&lt;/div&gt;
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Add 6 cups of cold water.&lt;/div&gt;
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Chill and serve.&lt;/div&gt;
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*If you are looking to be all fancy, you can garnish it with fresh fruit. &amp;nbsp;Strawberries, lemons, oranges, raspberries or blueberries all work well.&lt;/div&gt;
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**If you are wanting to be REALLY fancy, serve it in a punch bowl with fresh fruit.&lt;/div&gt;
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***If you are looking for a little kick, try adding a shot (or two!) of Peach Snapps to you glass.&lt;/div&gt;
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Now, just because this is MY perfect iced tea, doesn't mean that it is perfect for you. &amp;nbsp;Experiment with the number of tea bags to make stronger or weaker tea. &amp;nbsp;Play with the sugar and lemon juice to get the perfect blend for your taste buds. &amp;nbsp;You can even replace some or all of the tea bags with your favourite herbal tea for a completely different iced tea experience!&lt;/div&gt;
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Whatever you do, think of me on the next hot, humid summer day as you fill your kitchen with steam in search of your own perfect glass of iced tea.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-5213941036913399516?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/a0PD4mwmEiE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5213941036913399516/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/07/homemade-iced-tea.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/5213941036913399516?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/5213941036913399516?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/a0PD4mwmEiE/homemade-iced-tea.html" title="Homemade Iced Tea" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5mJyf6DqJ14/TidFolrXp0I/AAAAAAAABzY/6703QJwka7o/s72-c/100_0743.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/07/homemade-iced-tea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4NRns-fSp7ImA9WhZWFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-5585488264028933268</id><published>2011-05-17T21:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T21:43:17.555-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-17T21:43:17.555-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rain" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="toddlers" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="insane asylum" /><title>Rainy Day Blues</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;"Keep your feet on the floor."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"&gt;"Toys are not for throwing."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;"Use your walking feet."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Gentle hands please."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Use your words."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Do you need to sit on time out?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4c1130;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;"Use your listening ears."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"&gt;"I SAID STOP!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Over and over all day long I found myself repeating these things. &amp;nbsp;There was no end to it. &amp;nbsp;I was a broken record or skipping CD. &amp;nbsp;I was making myself want to scream almost as much as they were making me want to scream!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Sometimes it seems like they forget all the rules when we are stuck inside on rainy days. &amp;nbsp;Sometimes I wonder if they do it just to make rainy days feel like they are going to last forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Today was only day 2 of what looks to be not only a rainy day but a rainy WEEK! &amp;nbsp;Not sure I will have any remaining sanity by the end of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Anyone know of an insane asylum with an empty rubber room? &amp;nbsp;If it really does rain all week, I am going to need it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-5585488264028933268?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/cxG3XaIMQV8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/5585488264028933268/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/05/rainy-day-blues.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/5585488264028933268?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/5585488264028933268?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/cxG3XaIMQV8/rainy-day-blues.html" title="Rainy Day Blues" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/05/rainy-day-blues.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUDQXo6fyp7ImA9WhZWFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-2117202642319566029</id><published>2011-05-15T10:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T10:04:30.417-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-15T10:04:30.417-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="time" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="writing" /><title>Time Flies . . .</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My goodness, I just realized, that it has been over a month since I wrote a blog post! &amp;nbsp;I wish I had some wonderfully exciting reason for why I haven't written or posted but I've got nothing! &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Life is busy, work is busy and at the end of the day, I am tired! &amp;nbsp;It seems as though when I want to write and my brain is ready to co-operate, there is no time. &amp;nbsp;When there is time I am not in the mood to write or my brain won't work with me!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It is time for me to really focus on setting aside some time specifically for me to write each week. &amp;nbsp;I have lots of stuff bouncing around in my head, begging to be written. &amp;nbsp;I have found sites with some fun writing prompts that I am eager to try. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I need to clone myself, my clone could do the housework and I could write!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;But until then, you can follow my gardening adventures, in my gardening blog (mostly photos),&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://myalmostgreenthumb.blogspot.com/"&gt;My Almost Green Thumb&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-2117202642319566029?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/IHrZBH7gq3w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2117202642319566029/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/05/time-flies.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2117202642319566029?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2117202642319566029?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/IHrZBH7gq3w/time-flies.html" title="Time Flies . . ." /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/05/time-flies.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIMRX87fSp7ImA9WhZRFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8066685594840113128.post-2978927722220528007</id><published>2011-04-13T08:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T08:43:04.105-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-13T08:43:04.105-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="toddler talk" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Liam" /><title>Toddler Talk</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Liam is growing up fast, there is no doubt about that, but it is his language skills that amaze me on a daily basis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kxb3sI_VusU/TaWaFnPxLEI/AAAAAAAABiQ/RXxGkqvUdWM/s1600/100_8284_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kxb3sI_VusU/TaWaFnPxLEI/AAAAAAAABiQ/RXxGkqvUdWM/s320/100_8284_2.JPG" width="179" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So many of his little baby words are gone and replaced with words pronounced properly and even sentences. &amp;nbsp;He knows colours, shapes and body parts. &amp;nbsp;He loves to talk and I love to have conversations with him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here are a few of my favourite recent "Liam says" moments.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mommy: "Liam, come have breakfast."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Liam: "No, need to play cars for a minute."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Daddy: (after hearing me telling Liam repeatedly to stop) "What did you do?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Liam: (very proudly about the cat) "I pull her tail and she went away."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Liam: "Mommy, Miam a dolphin."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mommy: "Liam's a dolphin?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Liam: "Yes, Miam a dolphin in shuttle. &amp;nbsp;Shuttle and rockets going to moon."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Liam: "Where Daddy?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mommy: "Daddy's at work."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Liam: "Daddy at work in Daddy truck?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mommy: "Yes."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Liam: "OK, Bye bye Daddy."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He knows the names of many of his hot wheels car. &amp;nbsp;He knows &lt;i&gt;corbets &lt;/i&gt;(corvettes), &lt;i&gt;mutang &lt;/i&gt;(mustangs), &lt;i&gt;GTTT &lt;/i&gt;(GT), &lt;i&gt;chacher &lt;/i&gt;(challenger), &lt;i&gt;bumbee &lt;/i&gt;(Bumblebee, from Transformers), and I know there a few more that I can't remember as I am really NOT a car person!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;He calls his Grandma &lt;i&gt;"Gabba" &lt;/i&gt;and his Auntie Margaret "&lt;i&gt;Martie Auntie".&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;A few of his favourite phrases right now are"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"You stink" &lt;/i&gt;(When he is poopey and doesn't want to get his diaper changed.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Stupid Show." &lt;/i&gt;(Not my favourite, but it is pretty funny!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Read This!" &lt;/i&gt;(He loves books!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"&lt;i&gt;Right there!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"All Done!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Stop that."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Share!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I could go on all day with the cute and funny things he says, but I will leave you with my favourite:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Liam: "&lt;i&gt;Lu Lue Mommy."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Mommy: "&lt;i&gt;Love you too Liam."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8066685594840113128-2978927722220528007?l=perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~4/VLYALu6LJVQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/feeds/2978927722220528007/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/04/toddler-talk.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2978927722220528007?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8066685594840113128/posts/default/2978927722220528007?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ThePerilsOfAWorkingMom/~3/VLYALu6LJVQ/toddler-talk.html" title="Toddler Talk" /><author><name>Nicki McIlree</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/101891876700755983386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gBuJcCybifk/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAABtg/xaMdJRaVJnA/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kxb3sI_VusU/TaWaFnPxLEI/AAAAAAAABiQ/RXxGkqvUdWM/s72-c/100_8284_2.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://perilsofaworkingmom.blogspot.com/2011/04/toddler-talk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

