<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140</id><updated>2012-02-17T21:33:21.874-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories</title><subtitle type='html'>because I can not remember anything.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>447</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7921537465149689174</id><published>2012-02-17T21:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-17T21:33:21.881-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Duh moment</title><content type='html'>One morning I was joking around with Zack when he asked for an egg sandwich for breakfast. I told him it would cost him $4.50 for breakfast and that he had to pay up. He was insistent that he get his breakfast for free. When I asked him how much daddies breakfast was going to cost he responded with one hundred two forty. I asked if he meant one hundred two dollars and forty cents. He let me know that he meant one hundred two forty dollars. (Note to self, teach the child about money). He then changed his mind and said "daddies breakfast if going to cost one zillion and nine." I did not want to attempt to figure it out so I asked Kris what one zillion nine pennies would equal. My ever so smart child looked at me with a straight face and said "One zillion and nine pennies would be a lot of pennies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DUH.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7921537465149689174?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7921537465149689174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7921537465149689174&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7921537465149689174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7921537465149689174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-duh-moment.html' title='My Duh moment'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8862673601645336338</id><published>2012-02-10T08:26:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-10T08:47:37.928-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go away sickness</title><content type='html'>My poor little love muffin has an ear infection. Yesterday morning he was fine, no signs of any problems. I sent him off to school and I started my day. At 10:30 his teacher called me and said he was complaining of his ear hurting and that he felt warm. Less than ten minutes later I walked into the school office and he was sitting there waiting for me. He looked miserable. After signing him out of school, I called the pediatricians office for an appointment. When he heard me make the appointment he said "Mom you don't need to make an appointment, I feel one hundred, one million, one trillion zillion times better so I could just go home and watch TV now." ~&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;um, I don't think so child&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;By the time we left for the pediatricians office he was miserable. Of course he was already starting to panic about having to go there (nothing I say or do can reassure that child that it is okay to go to the doctor).  Turns out he has ear infection in the left ear but there is a lot of fluid in both ears. He also had a fever of nearly 101 degrees. How is it I was able to keep him healthy enough to have only had antibiotics once in the first five years of  his life and now he has had to take them twice in the past six months?&lt;br /&gt;He was really upset with me last night because I would not let him go to basketball practice. I promised that if I see improvement by Saturday I would let him play in the game. This morning he woke up saying he did not feel any pain in his ear. I checked his temp and it was normal so he went to school. Lets hope he makes it through the day and I don't have to go pick him up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-8862673601645336338?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8862673601645336338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8862673601645336338&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8862673601645336338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8862673601645336338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2012/02/go-away-sickness.html' title='Go away sickness'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8026533598382239225</id><published>2012-02-09T07:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-09T07:41:53.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart healthy</title><content type='html'>Do you know what the month of February means? It means it is heart healthy month. Want to know how I know this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received a lesson last night in the human anatomy. A lesson given by a five year old who I have to say sure did pay attention is class because he was spot on! Not only did he tell me about keeping your heart healthy but also about the lungs and the veins in the body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He decided yesterday to jog the whole way to the bus stop, so he did. Then he kept jogging in circles while standing and waiting for the bus. I think had the bus been on time he would have jogged the whole time he was waiting but since the bus was late by fifteen minutes he gave up. He jogged to the bus stop again this morning but did not jog in circles because someone at the bus stop was playing a video game and the pull to watch that was much more important!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One good thing about him jogging to the bus stop, it makes me walk faster to try to keep up with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-8026533598382239225?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8026533598382239225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8026533598382239225&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8026533598382239225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8026533598382239225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2012/02/heart-healthy.html' title='Heart healthy'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2799387258701952839</id><published>2012-02-02T07:34:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-02T07:54:00.001-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Report cards and notes sent home.</title><content type='html'>Zack brought home his 2nd quarter report card on Monday. It was a good report card, he is above grade level in reading, writing and math. He is on level with everything else. I can not complain about his report card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday he had a dentist appointment. I was dreading it, as usual. He still has a lot of anxiety when it comes to anything medical. He was nervous but he climbed into the chair to get his x-rays. Once the x rays were done he went into the cleaning room, he climbed into the chair and was happy to see they had the television on. He did well and came out with clean teeth but they want to switch him to morning appointments. They are hoping he will be less fidgety in the mornings. I actually laughed at the hygienist and said "Good luck with that because it never shuts off." At least he came home with a good report card from the dentist too - No cavities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday he was in a happy mood going off to school. Coming home from school was another story. I guess it all started when someone cut in front of him in line and did not appreciate that one bit. He told me how it was against the rules to cut in front of someone, so he was not going to let it happen to him. Needless to say he had a note sent home saying he was arguing and pushed someone. Now I get the privilege of meeting with his teacher next week! Yea me :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was in a really good mood this morning so I am hoping there is no problems in school. Tomorrow is awards day so we shall see if he does as well this quarter as he did last quarter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2799387258701952839?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2799387258701952839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2799387258701952839&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2799387258701952839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2799387258701952839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2012/02/report-cards-and-notes-sent-home.html' title='Report cards and notes sent home.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5586225533759675944</id><published>2012-01-18T18:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T18:19:54.034-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dates</title><content type='html'>Zack was sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework. He had just finished writing his name at the top of the paper and was working on writing the date. He stopped writing and said "Mom I can not wait until December 12&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;." I asked him why and reminded him that December 12&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; is so far away. He responded with "Mom It is going to be so cool on December 12&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; the date will be 12-12-12."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is so observant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5586225533759675944?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5586225533759675944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5586225533759675944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5586225533759675944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5586225533759675944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2012/01/dates.html' title='Dates'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2799746643102208853</id><published>2012-01-08T08:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T10:45:43.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Basketball 2012</title><content type='html'>Well I was going to take a moment and write a post about my surgery but I guess that will have to wait a while longer because little mister had his first basketball game Saturday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some unknown reason I felt nervous for him. I don't understand why since I was not nervous when he started Soccer or T-ball. He was a bit nervous but nothing like he normally gets so I know he was looking forward to it. He had been working hard on dribbling and passing correctly and blocking. He told me he would do his best, what more could I want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived we found his coach and brought him to the room where they all meet and have their talks then Kris and I went to the gym. I had no clue that this league makes it like they are NBA players. They have cheerleaders, they come running into the gym as an announcer says their name, they sing the national anthem. It was so far from what they do in the league we use for soccer and t-ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the game he did his best, he had a great pass that lead to a teammate scoring. Then half time came and they went to the room for their halftime talk. They came back out and the game got started. Very shortly after he got tripped up with another child and down he went. He hit the floor pretty hard. He laid there and several coaches and refs ran over to him. I let Kris go out there to check on him, I knew if it was not bad he would be more emotional  if I went out there.&lt;br /&gt;When he got up off the floor, a coach and Kris took him to the back and put some ice on his head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did not come back to the game to play but he did come back and sit on the bench. He was doing fine. Several parents asked if he was going to be OK. After they had their talk and their snack we headed home. I did make him take some Ibuprofen to help prevent any headache. He  assured me he would be fine. Apparently he was either kicked or had his ankle stepped on when he was going down because he complained about his ankle hurting so I iced that up and let him chill out on the couch for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the time he was in the game he tried his best. I do have to say I was very proud of him for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On an end note I will say my child is accident prone. On the first day of soccer he was elbowed in the face and came home with a black eye, on the last day of soccer he was hit in the face and had a slight black eye again. On his last day of t-ball he fell on some pebbles and cut his knees up pretty good. Now he gets hurt on his first game of basketball. I hope this is not a trend that he plans to continue because I am done with seeing my child hurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2799746643102208853?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2799746643102208853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2799746643102208853&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2799746643102208853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2799746643102208853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2012/01/basketball-2012.html' title='Basketball 2012'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8889899217821409159</id><published>2012-01-03T13:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T13:58:25.228-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is he really trying to kill me?</title><content type='html'>This child nearly gave me a heart attack!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in the laundry room working on that daunting task of climbing to the top of Mount Laundry when I heard a blood curdling scream come from the living room. Zack started screaming at the top of his lungs then screaming "Mom come here, come here quick." At least that is what I think he was saying. You can imagine how scary it is to hear your child scream like they are being attacked by a grizzly bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to the living room some .02 seconds after the first scream he was still screaming for me to come here, come here quick. Once he saw me he screamed something completely inaudible to my now broken ear drums. I had to ask him to repeat it, which he did in the same high pitched, break a champagne glass pitch. I asked a second time to repeat it in a normal voice so I could understand him. All this time my heart is beating so hard I could swear it is going to just burst through my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poor kid was nearly hyperventilating! My guess is he could not talk properly because he grabbed the television remote and hit the reverse button (thank goodness for playback mode or I may never have been able to find out why my hearing was now ruined for the rest of my life). When he reversed it to a commercial, I seriously had a thought that I just may have to trade this kid in on a new model. A flipping commercial caused all this ruckus? A commercial for YOGURT caused me to almost have to call 9-1-1 because I was surely having a heart attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A commercial for yogurt that has STAR WARS characters on it caused my child to scream so freaking loud that my ear drums burst, and my heart would never beat normal again! I know he is becoming more and more of a Star Wars fan but it is just yogurt dang it!! Yogurt that after eating you would just throw those Star Wars characters away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I joke about nearly having a heart attack but I am still working on getting my hearing back and seriously people I heard a couple gray hairs pop out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-8889899217821409159?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8889899217821409159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8889899217821409159&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8889899217821409159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8889899217821409159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2012/01/is-he-really-trying-to-kill-me.html' title='Is he really trying to kill me?'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6525876626485559117</id><published>2012-01-02T10:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T10:49:02.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Worry wart.</title><content type='html'>A lot has happened since I last posted. So in the next few days I will be updating things that happened in the past month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack went through a tough couple of days in early December. He is a rough and tumble little guy but he sure does have a sensitive side. As my surgery was getting closer he became much more clingy and would cry at the drop of a hat. A week before the surgery, before he even knew when it was going to be, he told me "Mommy I don't want you to die." Wow, I was not ready for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three days before the surgery he was sitting on the couch watching television when I heard his voice say "Mom". It was a shaky voice and I got up to go see what was wrong just as he was running to me. There were tears in his eyes and by the time he reached me he was crying uncontrollably. It took me a while to get out of him what the problem was. He was worried about me dying and not coming home. I tried to reassure him as much as I could that everything was going to be just fine and I would be home before he even got home from school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently my reassuring did not help because the next night he burst out into tears again. All I could do was talk with him and hope he could understand. He begged me not to have the surgery, when I told him I had to or I could get real sick, he begged me to let him come with me so he could make sure the doctor did not hurt me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin sent him message which I printed out and put in his 'private' mailbox that he has in his room. He was happy to hear someone else went through the same experience he was going through. (Thanks Kristin it meant a lot to both him and I).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to Grandmas house the night before to visit took his mind off everything for a while. He was a little less clingy that night. Of course going to Grandmas house for a visit even if only for a couple hours means you get spoiled. You get to play on the computer, you get to eat some junk food when mom is not looking, you get to turn on cartoons and you get to wrestle with Grandpa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did let him stay home from school the day of the surgery. I worried that if he started worrying or something that no one would be able to pick him up from school and it would have made things worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have got to say this kid was making me a bit uneasy about the whole surgery thing. I hated making my child hurt over something that could not be controlled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6525876626485559117?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6525876626485559117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6525876626485559117&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6525876626485559117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6525876626485559117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2012/01/worry-wart.html' title='Worry wart.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7826815942024178267</id><published>2011-12-02T22:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T22:45:42.589-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Candy Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;"Mom can I have some candy?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sure Zack, you can pick one from the bucket."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;"Mom, I picked a unsize M&amp;amp;M."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A What?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;"I picked a unsize M&amp;amp;M."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is an unsize M&amp;amp;M?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he showed me the FUN size bag in his hand. Gosh I love that kid :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7826815942024178267?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7826815942024178267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7826815942024178267&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7826815942024178267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7826815942024178267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/12/candy-man.html' title='The Candy Man'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4842244855590175597</id><published>2011-11-25T08:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-25T09:04:44.205-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving follies</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was Thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can someone please explain why football has become such a huge part of the day? I don't think I ever read or learned in school that a football game broke out between the Pilgrims and the Indians. So how did football become so important on this day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously football was on my television for so long a box popped up saying something about 'due to the inactivity the satellite will be shut down. If you wish to continue press cancel.'&lt;br /&gt;To me that is a sign the football games should be turned off for the day, to my husband that is an annoyance to have to pick up the remote to finish watching the game. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I do remember learning about a feast taking place, so a feast is what we had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a few things for yesterdays meal that I can not eat, it bothered me a little bit to see stuffing on the table but not on my plate. It bothered me a little to see mac and cheese on the table but not on my plate. I was bothered by the thought of not having a piece of pie after dinner so while making the pies I made one that had a gluten free crust. When it came time to have pie, I served up everyone and my husband said I will try some of the gluten free one. Darn it, he liked it! I was hoping he would not like it and I would get the whole pie to myself!! Then David wanted to try some of the crust so I broke a piece of mine and he liked it better than the regular crust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made some gluten free sausage balls the other day and stuck them in the freezer. Last night when we were getting a bit on the hungry side but not wanting to eat a real meal we took some of  them out, heated them up and I will say they were good. So good in fact that later on when I came downstairs I noticed the now empty bag sitting on the counter! My husband strikes again, he ate the rest. Dang it I was hoping for them to be left alone so I could snack on them here and there. Urgh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that I am thankful for my family, my home, my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4842244855590175597?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4842244855590175597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4842244855590175597&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4842244855590175597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4842244855590175597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/11/thanksgiving-follies.html' title='Thanksgiving follies'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5075174902587718066</id><published>2011-11-20T13:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T14:03:07.054-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Old Man</title><content type='html'>Zack and Kris have been outside working on the walls for a shed they are building. At one point I look out and see Zack swinging a sledge hammer. Kris was closely watching so he was not in any danger of being hurt.&lt;br /&gt;A while later Zack comes running in the house showing me his hands. Oh such a lovely shade of gray. It appears he has more paint on his hands then he does on the wall of the shed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looks at me and says "Oh I have such a crook in my back from all that bending over."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who in the world replaced my little boy with this achy crooked backed old man?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5075174902587718066?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5075174902587718066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5075174902587718066&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5075174902587718066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5075174902587718066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/11/little-old-man.html' title='Little Old Man'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5535216167685232622</id><published>2011-11-10T20:13:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T20:21:50.705-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids voting.</title><content type='html'>When Zack got off the bus on Tuesday he had a sticker on his shirt saying he voted in Kids Voting. So I asked him what that meant, he told me they got to vote for some people. I asked him who he voted for and what job were they trying to get. He responded with "I voted for Bob something." When I questioned him further about who Bob was and what job he was trying to be voted into, he responded with "Mom I don't know what job he wants all I know is I voted for him." When I asked him who else he voted for he said " I voted for the old man who was wearing a black shirt and tie."&lt;br /&gt;Well that clears up everything huh, after all how many old men with black shirts and ties could there possible be trying to be voted into office!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5535216167685232622?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5535216167685232622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5535216167685232622&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5535216167685232622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5535216167685232622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/11/kids-voting.html' title='Kids voting.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7043515194368218714</id><published>2011-11-05T18:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-11-05T18:47:58.022-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The good old days...</title><content type='html'>Just how old is my son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the car today he said &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;"Hey Mom remember 'The Good Old Days' when we would watch Thomas the train when I woke up in the morning?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;"Yes, I remember that."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;"Yea Mom, those were some really good times."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously where does he get this stuff?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7043515194368218714?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7043515194368218714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7043515194368218714&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7043515194368218714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7043515194368218714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/11/good-old-days.html' title='The good old days...'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4964124539032133722</id><published>2011-10-31T20:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T21:10:57.805-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;Happy Halloween&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This Halloween was a tricky one for Zack. He wanted so much to be a Star Wars figure but we could not find the right one, then we could not find one that fit him right. So after many long hours searching, he compromised. We found a costume that he thought was hilarious. I happen to think he is absolutely adorable in his costume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CSQ7j_o53QA/Tq88Fz3TWcI/AAAAAAAAAfs/lCNQcs1Y4lA/s1600/IMG_6850.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CSQ7j_o53QA/Tq88Fz3TWcI/AAAAAAAAAfs/lCNQcs1Y4lA/s320/IMG_6850.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669816526401919426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Admit it, this is the cutest little hot dog you have ever seen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;But wait,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it gets better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although he was happy with being a hot dog, there was still that pull for a Star Wars figure. You know little boys who long for something can not just let it go. So HE became a little inventive with his costume. Take one Hot Dog, add a Light Saber and magically you become...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;A Jedi Hot Dog!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fNwTrFsaAMQ/Tq88OjvHS0I/AAAAAAAAAf4/KyfM0ANl2dk/s1600/IMG_6853.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fNwTrFsaAMQ/Tq88OjvHS0I/AAAAAAAAAf4/KyfM0ANl2dk/s320/IMG_6853.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669816676691430210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How Cute is He!&lt;br /&gt;(By the way he got extra candy at a couple houses for such a cool costume.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4964124539032133722?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4964124539032133722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4964124539032133722&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4964124539032133722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4964124539032133722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/10/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CSQ7j_o53QA/Tq88Fz3TWcI/AAAAAAAAAfs/lCNQcs1Y4lA/s72-c/IMG_6850.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7823333327751536906</id><published>2011-10-23T14:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T14:38:24.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The activity bus.</title><content type='html'>Talking with Zack about his field trip to the pumpkin farm with his school, the part that hit me the most and made me giggle was talking about the activity bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Mom that activity bus was soo boring."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Why was the activity bus boring?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Mom they did not even have any activities to do on that bus!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I had to explain to my little man what 'activity bus' really means. We as adults forget that little ones take everything so literal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7823333327751536906?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7823333327751536906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7823333327751536906&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7823333327751536906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7823333327751536906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/10/activity-bus.html' title='The activity bus.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1381576571889629479</id><published>2011-10-17T20:54:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T21:07:40.806-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I should have known.</title><content type='html'>Today Zack came up to me and said "Mom I saw a girl in Mrs. M's class, I know her but I don't remember who she is. She had on a yellow, orange and pink striped shirt. Who is she Mom?"&lt;br /&gt;So I told him I had no idea who wears a yellow, orange and pink striped shirt and he came back with "But Mom you know her too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I need to do some research and visit Mrs. M's class next time I am in the school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of being in the school, I went in today to sign Zack out early since I had a doctors appointment and would not be home in time to get him off the bus. I went in and the secretary called down to his class asking his teacher to please release him and send him to the office. I took a seat and waited. I waited some more. I waited even more. The whole time I was thinking 'my gosh just how long does it take a kid to grab his backpack and jacket and walk to the office?' Finally I hear him coming down the hall. There he is holding hands with the assistant teacher from his Pre-K class last year. The little bugger decided to take a detour on his way to the office and he stopped into the pre-k classroom to chat with the teachers! When I asked him why he would do that when he knows I have a doctors appointment he responded with "well Mom, I never get to talk with them anymore so I just figured I could today since I got out of my class early." Sigh... the logic of a 5 year old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1381576571889629479?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1381576571889629479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1381576571889629479&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1381576571889629479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1381576571889629479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-should-have-known.html' title='I should have known.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8055536282899822764</id><published>2011-10-04T22:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T04:40:25.326-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh no!</title><content type='html'>Tonight I planned on making Chicken fingers, potato wedges and some vegetables for dinner. Since I have to be gluten free now I decided to coat the chicken in gluten free Rice Krispies. I pounded them down some and added some spices. I got the chicken coated and on the baking pan. I turned on the oven then I cut up the potatoes for the wedges, threw them in a Zip lock bag with some olive oil and some spices. Then I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Did I see smoke? No it could not be. Wait it looks like a little bit of smoke. Now I am smelling something, it smells electrical. I open the oven and I don't smell anything inside, I see a tad bit more smoke than before. I shut the oven off and pull it away from the wall. I see nothing behind there. I wait a little while then turn it on again and look behind it, at first I see nothing but I start smelling that faint smell again, then I see a spark behind the metal backing. The tiniest opening at the bottom is where I see the spark. I immediately shut the oven off and unplug it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Kris got home a few minutes later he took part of the back off and there was melted plastic. This plastic piece holds the wires inside so they are not touching each other. Of course the oven is not under warranty anymore so now we have to have someone come in a replace the part. I have no idea how much that will cost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew I had to somehow get dinner cooked because I certainly did not want to waste the food so Zack and I took a very quick trip to the store and bought a toaster oven. Yup it is working right now cooking up meal that I would have loved to eat earlier. I guess I will cook everything up tonight and just reheat it tomorrow for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had planned on doing some freezer cooking tomorrow but I guess that is out of the question now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-8055536282899822764?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8055536282899822764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8055536282899822764&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8055536282899822764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8055536282899822764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/10/oh-no.html' title='Oh no!'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6462214481413303331</id><published>2011-09-26T22:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T15:15:31.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The cheese cracker thief.</title><content type='html'>Today I made Zack some homemade cheese crackers. I mixed it all up before he came home and I let the dough sit in the refrigerator while I went to go pick him up from the bus stop.  I told him he had to wait a little while for his after school snack. I popped them in the oven and he kept coming over to check out the oven and see if they were done. When I pulled them out he immediately went to the table and sat there waiting. It was funny to watch him sit there even though I had told him they had to cool down before he could eat some.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put some on a plate for him and he went to town eating them. I asked him how they were and he gave me a thumbs up, apparently he was to busy chowing down and did not want to stop eating. When he was finished he told me "Mom you have to let me take these for snack time in school tomorrow." I asked if they were good and he smiled and said "Mom they were awesome, you need to make these everyday!" The funny thing was I went into my room to get something done, a little while later I came out and my sneaky little man had been stealing some the whole time, half the bowl was gone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess they are a big hit and I need to keep these in stock. The only problem is I think I am going to have to put them under lock and key if I expect them to last more than a few hours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6462214481413303331?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6462214481413303331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6462214481413303331&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6462214481413303331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6462214481413303331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/today-i-made-zack-some-homemade-cheese.html' title='The cheese cracker thief.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7374301169399479887</id><published>2011-09-20T23:26:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T23:16:37.955-04:00</updated><title type='text'>He is growing.</title><content type='html'>This is Zack's second season in soccer. He is doing so well this season. First and foremost his attitude has gotten so much better. He encourages his teammates, he (for the most part) listens to everything his coach tells him and he tries. He does not wait until the ball comes to him, he goes after it. If the other team has the ball close to his goal, he will do what needs to be done to protect that goal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday we arrived at the fields. He did a bit of practice before the game was to start. When his coach gathered them around for the pep talk, I over heard him tell his coach he was not feeling well. This was not a good thing to hear considering only 5 kids showed up for the game :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each of those 5 kids had to play the entire game. They only had a 5 minute break for halftime. Well 1 little girl had another break because she was stung while playing. When the game ended Zack was tired. He had been running his little heart out. He played so well and he scored his first goal. He clapped a bit but the excitement was just not there. I know it is was because he was not feeling well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we left he asked if he could eat lunch then go rest. My child never wants to rest. By the time we reached home he was telling me he had to throw up. Thankfully he did not. After eating a half piece of toast, he laid down in bed and fell asleep within 2 minutes. When he woke up 2 hours later he felt much better. It just made me realize he played hard out on that field even though he did not feel well. He is growing up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night he had another game and he was doing well. He just missed out on two goals. One the ball went just right of the goal. He did not let himself get upset over it though. He got back out there and tried again. The second one I know disappointed him a bit but he kept on playing. You see we all thought it was going in but it hit the goal post and went out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is growing up and not only learning the rules of the game but he is learning how to carry on through all the things that life has to throw at him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7374301169399479887?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7374301169399479887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7374301169399479887&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7374301169399479887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7374301169399479887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/he-is-growing.html' title='He is growing.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4528877985146016547</id><published>2011-09-16T13:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T14:04:56.773-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweatpants already?</title><content type='html'>What is a mom to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather has turned cool and so the time has come to retire those shorts and resort to the long pants to cover those little legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The number one problem with that is my son really dislikes wearing pants, he really dislikes wearing socks too but that is another story. I have given up on making him wear jeans, that is just a struggle I do not want to fight everyday. His wardrobe consists of sweatpants, sweatpants and more sweatpants.  I wonder what his school is going to think seeing him in sweats everyday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a challenge to even get the sweatpants on him but it is better than trying to get him to wear jeans. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The few times I have gotten him to wear jeans in the past were small miracles. I am hoping one day he will come out of it. The only other option is to pack up, sell the house, move somewhere where it never gets cold... but I am thinking my husband would not really agree to that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4528877985146016547?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4528877985146016547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4528877985146016547&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4528877985146016547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4528877985146016547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/sweatpants-already.html' title='Sweatpants already?'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5831237467099757879</id><published>2011-09-09T08:31:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-09T08:41:23.106-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Smiles</title><content type='html'>This morning I just had to smile :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked Zack to the bus stop this morning. We stopped a few houses away from the bus stop to pet a little dog that was outside with it's owner.  All the kids waiting for the bus were gathered around to pet the dog. When I saw the bus coming I let all the kids know and Zack kissed me goodbye and ran the rest of the way to the stop without me. When he got on the bus he slid down the window and waved. He continued to wave until we could not see each other anymore. Gosh I love that kid!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5831237467099757879?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5831237467099757879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5831237467099757879&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5831237467099757879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5831237467099757879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/smiles.html' title='Smiles'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7576891838168284136</id><published>2011-09-08T21:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T21:45:34.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hero's day.</title><content type='html'>Zack is super excited about going to school tomorrow. He has been talking about it for days now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He learned about 9-11 in school the other day. He came home telling me all about some bad guys that crashed two planes in a place called the twin towers ("they are two towers that look like twins"). He told me about lots of people that died and some people that didn't. Then he went on to explain how his school is going to have some Hero's come to his school. I asked him if he knew what a Hero is and he said "yes, Hero's are fire men, police men, EMT and padmedics". For those of you who don't know what a padmedic is, they are also known as paramedics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tomorrow is the day his school is hosting local Hero's. He is excited to meet them. The school requested that everyone wear red, white, and blue. He actually came home from school today and told me he wanted to take my camera to school with him tomorrow so he can take pictures. While I think this is wonderful that he would want to do that there is no way on this earth that I am letting my 5 year old take my camera to school. Apparently he does not realize that thing is like another child of mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7576891838168284136?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7576891838168284136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7576891838168284136&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7576891838168284136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7576891838168284136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/heros-day.html' title='Hero&apos;s day.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8103449454916259785</id><published>2011-09-05T11:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T11:33:07.397-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Star Wars</title><content type='html'>My child is becoming obsessed with Star Wars. A couple months ago Kris dug out the old x-box. He hooked it up and started showing Zack how to play. We only have 2 games the kid can play so it is either Pac-man or Lego Star Wars. He has become obsessed with the Star Wars game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday while at the store he went down the toy aisle and was completely excited to see the hundreds of boxes of Star Wars Lego. I think he could have spent hours upon hours in that aisle alone. Every box he wanted to know each characters name. He was fascinated with the Star Wars Lego display.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to the school supply section and of course he just had to have the Star Wars folder for his homework. We needed a better thermos to keep his stuff cold for lunch so he begged and begged for me to get him the Star Wars. It did not seem to matter that his lunch box is Toy Story themed. I guess Toy Story is so pre-school. He wanted the Star Wars lunch box but that was to cheaply made and he would break it in a week so I said no to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I wished I would have had a video camera because while looking at the guide on television he spotted the words Star Wars. He wanted to watch it so I figured what the heck. The level of excitement coming from both him and Indigo was amazing. They were screaming with excited when they saw a character they recognized from the game. It was funny to watch them. They gave it all they had but could not get through the entire movie. Both of them zonked out on the couch. Now Zack wants to watch the movie again. I guess we are going to have to see if the library has a copy of all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-8103449454916259785?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8103449454916259785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8103449454916259785&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8103449454916259785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8103449454916259785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/star-wars.html' title='Star Wars'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6601400597014875010</id><published>2011-09-02T15:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T08:27:44.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The purple cow did him in.</title><content type='html'>Aw crud, I have damaged my child!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got off the school bus telling me something was wrong, really wrong  today and that he was so sorry. Then he stood there at the bus stop and  the tears started rolling, then nearly hyper ventilating, the complete  sorrow in those poor little eyes. When I asked him what was wrong all he could tell me was "I am so sorry, I did something wrong at school today." I asked what he did, he cried harder. Seriously what could he have done that was so wrong, so terribly wrong. You can imagine what I was thinking. I seriously thought he misbehaved in school and had a letter for me in his backpack. Oh but I was wrong very wrong, because when he calmed down enough to tell me I wanted to laugh. I knew I couldn't though, that would have sent mixed signals to the already upset child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently today was purple day in his class (each day is a new color). Basically the highlights of purple day are that they made purple cow puppets and the teacher treated them to a purple cow drink (ice cream with grape soda).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me he was so excited to have the snack that the teacher made that he did not eat the snack I packed for him. Then it hit him and he felt bad for drinking soda when that is a big no-no. Oh that after the fact remorse will get you every time kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the time has come for me to stop saying my son has never had soda. Today he had soda. Of all places he drank it in school. I do not let my son drink soda - at all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did talk about it later on and I did tell him I was not upset with him but the rule still stands and he is not to think he can order a soda in a restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole parenting thing stinks when you try to set rules and someone else unknowingly lets them break a rule.I guess I need to work on getting him to make better decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6601400597014875010?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6601400597014875010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6601400597014875010&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6601400597014875010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6601400597014875010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/purple-cow-did-him-in.html' title='The purple cow did him in.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2403513302269672243</id><published>2011-09-02T14:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T14:17:16.954-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello truck, goodbye car.</title><content type='html'>Someone lift this darn money leaching curse from my household... PLEASE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally after 28 days of not having my truck, we picked it up today at lunch time. I was so thrilled to see Clifford (the name of my truck) sitting there waiting for me. Whenever we pick a vehicle up from the mechanics Kris and I have a deal that he drives it that first day to make sure everything is alright.&lt;br /&gt;We stopped to grab a bite to eat before Kris had to get back to work. He got into my truck and I got into his car. I figured I would stop at the house and put the leftovers in the refrigerator before heading to the store. I pulled up into the driveway, went to put the emergency brake on (we live on a small hill) and the darn thing popped. The spring from inside came flying out pushing the release button out and now the brake will not work! Please let this be an easy fix because I don't think I can handle any more money disappearing from our pockets to the mechanics pocket, nor do I think I can handle another weekend of not having my truck since Kris has to go out of town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2403513302269672243?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2403513302269672243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2403513302269672243&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2403513302269672243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2403513302269672243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/hello-truck-goodbye-car.html' title='Hello truck, goodbye car.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7715553414869433075</id><published>2011-09-01T15:30:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T15:40:04.348-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Little notes</title><content type='html'>I just want to say... Mean kids stink!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday I put a little note in Zack's lunch box. One day it may just say 'have fun', another day it may say 'have a great day' or it may say 'I  with a heart u'. This morning my 5 year old asked me not to put any more notes in his lunch box. (Insert sad Mommy face here).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I asked him why he responded by telling me that R laughs at him and he doesn't want R laughing at him anymore. I asked him if he liked getting the notes in his lunch box and he said yes but he doesn't like people laughing at him.&lt;br /&gt;Big Mommy Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7715553414869433075?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7715553414869433075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7715553414869433075&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7715553414869433075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7715553414869433075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/09/little-notes.html' title='Little notes'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2662400207034939966</id><published>2011-08-31T19:19:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T09:10:17.039-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A new bus rider.</title><content type='html'>Zack decided to take the school bus home yesterday. This is a big step since he was asked to take it but then backed out twice when I said he could if he wanted to. All this new and strange stuff happening has thrown him off a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the other night he asked if he could take the bus home from school. I said he could and that I would write a note to his teacher to make sure she knew. Yesterday we get into his classroom, he handed the teacher the note and she wrote it on the bus board. Then he tells me, "I don't think I want to take the bus today mom." I did not want him to back out since I thought he would be ready for it, so I told him that he already had given the note to his teacher and she wrote it on the board so he had to take it home and we would see how well he did. He had no choice but to accept it. What he did not know was I also let the teacher know that if he got upset or couldn't go through with it, to just give me a call and I would be there in a few minutes to pick him up.&lt;br /&gt;No phone call was received so at the appropriate time I walked up to the school bus stop and I waited patiently for him. The bus was 5 minutes late (per the written schedule). Finally I see it coming down the road, it stops, 6 kids stand up and start walking down the aisle. I did not see Zack's blond head. Then I heard the bus driver call his name, up from the a seat in the middle of the bus I see his blond head pop up. He walks to the front of the bus and I hear her ask him who that is. He tells her 'that's my mom.' He gets off the bus and immediately tells me he got to sit next to a big kid, then he proceeds to tell me how 'the bus lady' did not know where he lived so she had to ask Coach J (the P.E. teacher) where he lived. It is unclear if she asked Zack where he lives. So of course because of all this the bus was held up which made it 5 minutes late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he got off the bus, he had a piece of paper that he handed to me and told me I have to write the stuff down that 'the bus lady' needs. Now I wouldn't mind so much but I filled out a bus form when I signed him up for Kindergarten (I was not sure he would be on a bus but I filled it out as a just in case). That form was turned into the main office at the school. I filled out a second form on the first day of school. That form was turned into the teacher. I talked with the teacher last week letting her know I would send in a note when he was ready to ride the bus. I talked with the bus driver during open house, now I have yet another form to fill out so they have the information. All this filling out forms seems a bit ridiculous. It just goes to show that one department does not talk to the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so grateful that he did not get upset with the whole fiasco of them not knowing where to drop him off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I asked him if he wanted to take the bus to school today or if he wanted to drive. He chose the bus! My little boy is growing up. We walked to the bus stop, he chatted with some of the girls that ride the bus also. When the bus got there, he turned to me and waved then got on like he has been doing it for years. When the bus pulled away I saw him sitting in the middle seat next to the window. He started waving and continued until I could not see him anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2662400207034939966?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2662400207034939966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2662400207034939966&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2662400207034939966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2662400207034939966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/new-bus-rider.html' title='A new bus rider.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-225582861392392829</id><published>2011-08-28T19:39:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T13:42:38.202-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another one bites the dust.</title><content type='html'>Zack lost another tooth. This is the second one this month. It has been wiggly for days, and I guess he got tired of wiggling it because he asked me several times today if I would try to pull it out for him. I did try but couldn't get a good enough grasp and I did not want to hurt him so I told him he could just keep playing with it. At dinner he was getting irritated with it because it kept getting in his way. After dinner he asked again if I would just pull it out, I tried but quite frankly I could not get a good enough grasp to pull it very hard. He reached in and twisted and yanked and darn if that tooth didn't come out, shocking him that he did it himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was a bit worried because there was a bit of blood on the tooth and he was afraid it was not good enough for the tooth fairy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is sitting at the table as I write this. He is writing a letter to the tooth fairy to let her know he pulled it out himself and that there is blood on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the kicker. The adult tooth has already popped through. It was coming through right behind the wiggly tooth for several days now. It is not coming in straight like his baby teeth were. There is definitely braces in his future which makes me so sad because he had beautiful teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-225582861392392829?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/225582861392392829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=225582861392392829&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/225582861392392829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/225582861392392829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/another-on-bites-dust.html' title='Another one bites the dust.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5817685673642733260</id><published>2011-08-27T22:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T23:06:59.253-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Meteorologist</title><content type='html'>This morning we were watching the news and the weather report to see what was happening with hurricane Irene and how much damage was already being reported. Well Zack started asking questions about a hurricane so I being the meteorologist that I am (cough, choke, who am I kidding) tried answering him to the best of my ability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did have to reassure him that we were not in the path of the storm that it was staying near the beaches, but that we would get some rain and it would be breezy out today because of the storm. Later on after leaving the house we were in the car with the windows rolled down. His hair was flying every which way and he chimes in from the backseat "we should call this a breezy storm, it is blowing all over."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A while later at soccer practice the gusts picked up a bit and had the kids trying really hard to keep the ball in control because it kept blowing away. One gust was pretty strong and it nearly knocked a few of the little ones off their feet, so Zack yells to me "Hey Mom this hurricane is getting windier, it almost blew me away." One of the other parents got a kick out of that and he called Zack a little version of the local meteorologist. I told him he watches the weather every morning before school so it would not surprise me one bit if he became one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on it finally sunk in Zack's head what I said about the hurricane staying by the beaches. He asked if Ma was at her beach house and if the hurricane made any damage to her house. I assured him Ma had left the beach house and he could call her tomorrow and ask her if her beach house was alright. When he asked why he could not call her then, I let him know the storm had not actually gotten close to Ma's house yet so she would not know if there was any damage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This kid of mine is like a sponge when it comes to scientific things. He did tell me today his favorite center in his classroom was the science center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5817685673642733260?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5817685673642733260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5817685673642733260&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5817685673642733260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5817685673642733260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/mr-meteorologist.html' title='Mr. Meteorologist'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8752091200990840711</id><published>2011-08-26T14:56:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T15:52:54.825-04:00</updated><title type='text'>He is kindergarten bound.</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;Well the big day came yesterday. My youngest is no longer a baby. Yes that is right, he started kindergarten... not that he really wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke him up to get ready for school. He did his normal morning routine which he hurried through because he wanted to watch some television before he had to go. We do have a rule in our house that you may watch some television only if you do everything to get ready first. This happened after he tried telling me his belly hurt. Poor kid I feel for you but you have to go to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made sure to take some pictures, (you know for mommy when she is so old and senile and can not remember much of the past).&lt;br /&gt;He had his fake smile on for the first few then the fake smiles diminished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got out of the car, one of the little boys from his pre-k class pulled in right next to us. I think it helped Zack a lot seeing a familiar face. They walked into the school together. When we got to Zack's classroom he would not go in unless Kris or I went in first. I guess he was afraid we would just leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did well in the classroom, learning where to put his things like his backpack and where the lunchboxes go and where to go to get his name tag. He sat at his desk which had crayons and a paper to color already on it. When I said goodbye he sort of choked up and quietly in my ear asked me not to leave. I told him I would be back in just a few hours to pick him up. His eyes looked like he would cry any minute so I quickly reminded him that he drew a picture for his teacher and it was still in his backpack. I helped him get it out and said goodbye to him and walked out. I will admit I wanted to cry but I held the tears in. Shortly after me, Kris walked out. When I looked back he was giving his teacher the picture so we walked out to the car.&lt;br /&gt;It went so much better than I expected it would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I will tell you when we walked into his classroom, I did a double take. His teacher had multiplied! Sure did, that woman cloned herself! There were two of them! She did introduce the clone as her sister who was there to help her out for the first day. I bet it shocked the kids...hey maybe that is why Zack did not cry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later when I picked Zack up, I parked across the street and walked over to the school (much easier than dealing with the long line of cars in the pick up line). When I got closer I had to laugh, all the car riders where sitting outside in front of the school waiting for their names to be called. I saw Zack sitting with three of his friends from pre-k. I thought it was a mini pre-k reunion. He told me about all the friends from pre-k that he saw during the day. He couldn't for the life of him remember any of the kids names from his class this year. He told me he was not happy because the teacher thought he did not know how to use the cafeteria. I had to explain to him that she was just making sure all the kids knew how to use it because not all the kids went to pre-k last year so some of them needed to learn. I asked him if he could forgive her for that, he said he thought so! lol. He was happy to tell me they went on the blue and yellow playground today and they went to P.E. which means gym class!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got home he told me all about Ms. T's helper this morning. "Mom she had the same color hair, the same eyes color, the same nose, she talked like Ms. T and  she even had the same face and everything!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He may have even mentioned once or thirty times how he did not cry not one tear! Needless to say he got his Chicken nuggets, fries and apple pie last night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mSAKNG4ZpfI/Tlf5NOr0aLI/AAAAAAAAAfg/GPF66cvVFwo/s1600/IMG_6796.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mSAKNG4ZpfI/Tlf5NOr0aLI/AAAAAAAAAfg/GPF66cvVFwo/s320/IMG_6796.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645254663607707826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My not so happy little boy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/7244646313950916140-8752091200990840711?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8752091200990840711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8752091200990840711&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8752091200990840711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8752091200990840711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/he-is-kindergarten-bound.html' title='He is kindergarten bound.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mSAKNG4ZpfI/Tlf5NOr0aLI/AAAAAAAAAfg/GPF66cvVFwo/s72-c/IMG_6796.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7195523361555442477</id><published>2011-08-25T18:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T19:35:31.028-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Before the big day.</title><content type='html'>A few days ago we went to meet the teacher night at Zack's school. The poor child barely spoke with his teacher or the assistant. He begged me to ask them certain questions and rather than making him feel more anxious I did ask for him. Was it the right thing to do? I think so, rather than make him more nervous and upset, he was able to feel slightly more comfortable by hearing the answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was so important?&lt;br /&gt;Take a second and think the way a 5 year old would.&lt;br /&gt;The most pressing question was "Do we have to take naps?" Of course he was happy to hear that nap time is a thing of the past.&lt;br /&gt;He needed to know if it is alright to bring potato chips for snack time, Of course he was happy to hear the word yes (even though he does not get chips very often). He was not allowed to bring anything like that to preschool last year so this is a big thing to him.&lt;br /&gt;And finally, it was really important to him to know if they get to play on both playgrounds or do they just have one to play on like in preschool. He gave a nod when the teacher told him that in kindergarten the teacher gets to choose which playground to let the kids play on that day. So there you have it, the important information a 5 year needs to know before starting such a big day in his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once he received his answers he was ready to leave. It did not matter that mom and dad still needed questions answered. All I heard was I want to go home, lets leave, we can leave now, I don't want to be here. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, Kindergarten Eve was a weird day. When talking with my mom on the phone he was telling her that he was excited to be going to school. Shortly after he was done talking with her, he turned to me and said "Mom I am afraid to go to school." What he is afraid of is beyond me, he could not/would not tell me. He was telling people what they wanted to hear and not what he was really feeling. He was hyper all day but as it turned to evening he became super hyper. He has hyper tendency's but last night he was beyond his normal which I know means he is really anxious about something. He did not want to go to bed last night, he tried stalling. While I was reading his nightly book, he was asking questions about different pictures in the book, much more than normal. While I was singing his nightly songs, he was stopping me to ask about something from his video game. Finally I got him to calm down and go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the day I did make a deal with him. I told him if there was no crying and no fussiness at school I would make him whatever he wanted for dinner. What do you think he chose? Quick revert back to being a 5 year old. Chicken nuggets, french fries and apple pie with ice cream, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7195523361555442477?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7195523361555442477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7195523361555442477&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7195523361555442477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7195523361555442477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/before-big-day.html' title='Before the big day.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5264461553712102941</id><published>2011-08-24T09:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T09:18:51.659-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chirp, chirp chirp.</title><content type='html'>Just so you know, there is a cricket in my house that is driving me NUTS! I figured out where the darn thing is.  Right now it is residing in the wall behind the refrigerator so there is nothing I can do about it. I think I am going to go insane if this thing does not move on sooner rather than later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5264461553712102941?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5264461553712102941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5264461553712102941&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5264461553712102941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5264461553712102941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/chirp-chirp-chirp.html' title='Chirp, chirp chirp.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-3052078723853266842</id><published>2011-08-22T08:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T08:32:42.671-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Eyes in my mouth."</title><content type='html'>Z: "Ouch"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "What's wrong?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z: "I just bit my tooth again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Why do you keep doing that, Silly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z: "Mom, do I look like I have eyes in my mouth?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Let me see... nope, no eyes in there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Z: "Well if I have no eyes in my mouth how can I see where I am biting?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He just lost a tooth two weeks ago, he is so close to loosing another. I wonder if he will let me pull it out today.&lt;br /&gt;The spot where he lost a tooth two weeks ago already has a tooth coming in. This tooth that is so darn close to coming out has a tooth popping through just behind it already. I see braces in our future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-3052078723853266842?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/3052078723853266842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=3052078723853266842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3052078723853266842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3052078723853266842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/eyes-in-my-mouth.html' title='&quot;Eyes in my mouth.&quot;'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5346827311673415655</id><published>2011-08-18T11:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-18T12:08:27.254-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Out.</title><content type='html'>A short conversation that Zack and I had yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Wow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "What's up?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Do you realize how long it has been?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Do I realize how long what has been?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "How long it has been since I was in time out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Yep it has been a while, I guess it is because you have been listening more and not misbehaving as much as you used to, BUT if you would like I can put you in time out now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: 'Noooooo thanks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not more than 1 hour later he was sent to his room for misbehaving. Some things I guess will never change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5346827311673415655?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5346827311673415655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5346827311673415655&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5346827311673415655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5346827311673415655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/time-out.html' title='Time Out.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-9014369371401831994</id><published>2011-08-17T08:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T08:36:43.714-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dentures and the 5 year old.</title><content type='html'>Let me start this post by saying seriously this kid of mine has been watching to much television lately.&lt;br /&gt;Commercials are his favorite part, he can recite more commercials than anyone, including my niece who as a child would watch television just for commercials. (Yes Melissa, I can remember turning the television on with you and flipping the channels just to find commercials). When he wants something he recites the commercials so I know all about the products and why we should have it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning Zack being the ever independent that he is becoming made his own breakfast. After sitting at the table and eating, he put his plate in the sink and went to the bathroom to wash his face and hands. Just as he was getting to the bathroom door he yelled "Hey Mom guess what? I can feel a new tooth coming in at the end of my dentures!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So apparently my independent 5 year old now has dentures. (No wonder he dislikes going to the dentist. lol) I am guessing he has seen one to many commercials involving denture cream!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-9014369371401831994?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/9014369371401831994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=9014369371401831994&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/9014369371401831994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/9014369371401831994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/dentures-and-5-year-old.html' title='Dentures and the 5 year old.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2255614878345693359</id><published>2011-08-16T21:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T21:21:42.883-04:00</updated><title type='text'>That was quick.</title><content type='html'>On August 9, the tooth fairy paid a visit to our house. Zack had a wiggling tooth and at dinner time he was showing me just how far it would bend. I asked him if I could touch it, after a tiny bit of anxiety, he caved in and let me touch it. What he did not realize was the second I touched the tooth, I pulled it out. I had taken it out and set it on the table before he realized it was even out. Although it is his second tooth that he has lost, it is the first one he has lost naturally. The first one was knocked out in a playground accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wrote a note to the tooth fairy and she left one in return telling him that his tooth was going to look good in her collection and to continue brushing and flossing his teeth. She also left a gold coin and 4 quarters. He was excited when he woke up the next morning to see what she left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening he came up to me and said "Mom put your fingernail where my tooth was". I did not have to, I could already see the new tooth is already coming in. Seems pretty quick to me but then again what do I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2255614878345693359?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2255614878345693359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2255614878345693359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2255614878345693359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2255614878345693359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/08/that-was-quick.html' title='That was quick.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2394449337707856254</id><published>2011-07-21T15:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T16:02:45.586-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Zack's Message</title><content type='html'>Zack and I leave messages for each other on his chalkboard which we keep in the dining room.&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon he left a message for me and I could not help but take a picture and share it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-59J_vGuXsbg/TiiD6zdEAuI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/DIKFgw0TQuU/s1600/zacks%2Bmessage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-59J_vGuXsbg/TiiD6zdEAuI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/DIKFgw0TQuU/s320/zacks%2Bmessage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631896380294562530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;If you are having trouble reading it, it says '&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am hugnry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;'. Yes he spelled Hungry wrong but that is ok. He is only 5 after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW the M is connected it just did not appear that way in the photo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2394449337707856254?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2394449337707856254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2394449337707856254&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2394449337707856254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2394449337707856254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/07/zacks-message.html' title='Zack&apos;s Message'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-59J_vGuXsbg/TiiD6zdEAuI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/DIKFgw0TQuU/s72-c/zacks%2Bmessage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6378616202572223269</id><published>2011-07-17T16:03:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T16:04:20.760-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ice Cream Day</title><content type='html'>It is national ice cream day and we don't have any ice cream in the house! I swear I just bought some when I went shopping this past week but it has magically disappeared.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6378616202572223269?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6378616202572223269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6378616202572223269&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6378616202572223269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6378616202572223269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/07/ice-cream-day.html' title='Ice Cream Day'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6333952035501313640</id><published>2011-07-11T18:34:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T18:40:07.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrong spelling.</title><content type='html'>When ever Zack does something silly I always tell him "You're fired... F.I.R.E.D fired." Well now that Indigo is around a lot I have taken to telling her the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight at dinner we were talking about our upcoming trip to the beach. I asked her if I could dunk her in the water. She told me yes but I have to save her because I am strong. I laughed a bit but what came out oh her mouth next really had me laughing. She looked me in the eye and said "you're fired... A.B.C.D.S fired!" So apparently I have been spelling fired wrong this whole time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6333952035501313640?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6333952035501313640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6333952035501313640&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6333952035501313640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6333952035501313640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/07/wrong-spelling.html' title='Wrong spelling.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-364020440425750281</id><published>2011-07-04T08:18:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T08:27:52.780-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Independence Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;Happy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;4th &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;July&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I asked Zack the other day if he knew what the fourth of July meant. He told me it was the day we celebrate Americans. So to all you Americans, I celebrate you today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night Zack was a lucky little boy. Just about the time he was going to bed, someone in the next development started shooting off fireworks. They could be seen very clearly from Zacks bedroom window, so clearly from his window in fact that I was able to open the curtains and blinds so he could watch them while laying in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They actually put on a decent show considering it was someone doing it at home and not a professional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-364020440425750281?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/364020440425750281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=364020440425750281&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/364020440425750281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/364020440425750281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/07/independence-day.html' title='Independence Day'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4973872197268760054</id><published>2011-06-22T21:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T22:10:25.194-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Angry Birds</title><content type='html'>We went to Best Buy a few days ago to check out new phones. Mine was getting a bit on the old side and things were not working properly anymore. Kris' was not nearly as old as mine but his was starting to mess up here and there so it was time to get new ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day we looked and did not buy. While Kris and I were looking Zack found a Samsung Tablet nearby and started moving the screen around and he found the game Angry Birds on there. He played it for quite a while. The next night we (and when I say we I mean Kris) made the decision of which phone he was interested in so we went back to get them. Zack went straight over to the Tablets and started playing Angry Birds again. We were there for nearly two hours and I have to say for the most part Zack played that game and was behaving very good for it being past his bed time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we left there he started begging me to find Angry Birds on daddy's computer. Of course Kris took his computer to work with him so I can not find it yet and I refuse to download it on my computer (my computer is older than my phone was). Each day he asks for me to find it, each day I wonder how my child could have gotten hooked on a silly game so quickly? I know if I don't download it soon he is going to find a way to do it himself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4973872197268760054?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4973872197268760054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4973872197268760054&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4973872197268760054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4973872197268760054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/06/angry-birds.html' title='Angry Birds'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1754010184898009266</id><published>2011-06-21T09:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T09:40:40.901-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is my love?</title><content type='html'>Zack and I spent the week at the beach last week with Ma, Rae and the kids. We had such a great time that my little man did not want to come home. He let me know that I could go home and that he was staying and going to live at the beach with Ma. Apparently he could live without me :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day he was sitting on the couch next to Ma and she said "Zack I love you." He responded back to her with "I love you too." I chimed in and said "Hey what about me?" That little bugger looked at me and said "Mom your chopped liver!"&lt;br /&gt;How rude. lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see where I stand, Ma has the beach house so he is going to butter her up as much as possible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1754010184898009266?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1754010184898009266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1754010184898009266&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1754010184898009266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1754010184898009266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/06/where-is-my-love.html' title='Where is my love?'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-230596408724788406</id><published>2011-06-11T09:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T12:41:22.773-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Phone number</title><content type='html'>Last night Zack was getting irritated because he wanted to go out to play and because he was supposed to have a t-ball game &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But&lt;/span&gt; it was raining and we had a lot of thunder and lightning. He turned and looked at me and said "If only I had God's phone number, then I could call him and tell him to stop the rain."&lt;br /&gt;I laughed and told him God did not have a phone number and that he could talk to him anytime. I then reminded him how he says prayers every night and that is talking to God.&lt;br /&gt;He said "Oh yeah I forgot about that."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-230596408724788406?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/230596408724788406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=230596408724788406&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/230596408724788406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/230596408724788406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/06/phone-number.html' title='Phone number'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2492919377444997987</id><published>2011-06-10T05:19:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T06:40:03.131-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pre-k party.</title><content type='html'>Last Friday was the year end party for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Zacks&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-k class and their families. I was in charge of getting it all together so I had been a bit busy dealing with that. It went well for the most part.&lt;br /&gt;We had to pick the kids up early from school and take them over to the local park. Once at the park all the kids decided to hit the playground, that was so much more important to them then eating their lunch. I went down to the playground to take some pictures and two of my sons classmates were swinging on the swings and repeating over and over again "Shit baby diaper". They thought it was hilarious. I tried to get them to stop but neither one of these little ones listen so well. I did walk over to one of the parents and ask her to say something before the others picked it up. She got it to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After playing they worked up an appetite so we headed under the pavilion to have lunch. We catered in Subway so each child had their own Subway kids meal and the parents, siblings and everyone else had sandwich from the platters. After eating lunch they all made their way down to the playground again. They came back up a little while later for cake. I did not hear it but one of the children who was using the four letter word earlier sat down to eat his cake and told his classmate "touch my cake and I will kick your ass." Oh nice, just what a table full of 5 year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; need to hear! Makes me wonder what my child may or may not have heard on the playground this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The assistant teacher had given me a bunch of party hats that she had left over from her daughters birthday party so I came up with an idea of just letting the children decorate the hats with stickers. The kids had fun doing this simple project. I purchased several books of stickers with all different themes so something caught the eye of every child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the party ended and we cleaned up, Zack was feeling a bit frustrated that the big kids in his school had field day and they got to jump in bounce houses and play in water and the little kids did not. So when we got home after he rested for a while, I poured the water from the coolers into a huge bucket and let him play. He played with that water for hours! This child of mine just loves to play in water. Later on he played with a squirt gun, he even had the pleasure of running under the sprinkler. He was loving every second of all that water play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once he went to bed, he slept hard. His head hit the pillow and he was out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had so much food left over that I warned the teachers that each day the following week I was bring in something for the kids to munch on before they went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday they each had some yummy sweet watermelon. Messy, messy messy.&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday they went outside and had a nice cold refreshing Popsicle on such a hot and sticky day. Can we say messy?&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday they had some cake and juice. Crumbs were everywhere, talk about messy!&lt;br /&gt;Thursday they were not going outside because of the heat so they had some chips while watching a movie. Messy little creatures these kids are.&lt;br /&gt;Today is Friday and today they will be getting a special treat. A cookie made to look like a graduation hat. Why do I get the feeling they will be messy with that also?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I did take pictures at the party but I will not post them here because all of the kids were wearing their school reading shirts. The name of our school is on the shirts so for safety reasons I will avoid posting them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2492919377444997987?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2492919377444997987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2492919377444997987&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2492919377444997987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2492919377444997987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/06/pre-k-party.html' title='Pre-k party.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2368199367719421448</id><published>2011-05-29T15:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-29T15:59:12.272-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All Zack, All the time.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;"Mom, I just do not feel so well."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is wrong?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;"Well my belly doesn't feel good."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why doesn't your belly feel good?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;"It doesn't feel good because it feels like I have not had any candy in a day, so I think I should get a piece of candy to make it feel better."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nice try kid but the answer is no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;"Oh Mom, that just is not fair."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is amazing what he will try to pull to get a piece of candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up one morning feeling really tired, I did not get enough sleep at all and my legs were killing me. So I told Zack I was not feeling so well and he wanted to know what was wrong. I told him my legs hurt, I was tired and I had heartburn. He ran out of my room, into the kitchen and brought me a glass of water. As he was handing me the water he said "Mom drink this water it will cool down your heartburn so it won't be so hot anymore." Such a sweet kid!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2368199367719421448?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2368199367719421448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2368199367719421448&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2368199367719421448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2368199367719421448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/05/all-zack-all-time.html' title='All Zack, All the time.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4328159068790538783</id><published>2011-05-23T15:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T15:13:38.798-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Men hate Chick Flicks!</title><content type='html'>On the way home from school today Zack was telling me a little bit about his day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"Hey Mom guess what?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What Zack."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"Nancy brought in a girl movie today and girl movies are ick."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What movie did she bring in?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In between the giggles he says &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"she brought in Barbie and Barbie is disgusting, it is for girls."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well did you watch it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;"Well we watched some of it but girl movies are ick and boys should not be watching them!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;So there you have it, the start of the whole men hate chick flicks begins at the tender age of 5!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4328159068790538783?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4328159068790538783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4328159068790538783&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4328159068790538783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4328159068790538783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/05/men-hate-chick-flicks.html' title='Men hate Chick Flicks!'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1318777341469699753</id><published>2011-05-19T15:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T15:44:18.305-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mohawks and colored hair.</title><content type='html'>That's it, I don't think I will be taking Zack to see 'Daddy's work girls' again.&lt;br /&gt;Last week when my truck was at the mechanics I dropped Kris off at work and took his car.&lt;br /&gt;When it was time to pick him up, he asked if I could come a few minutes early so the girls at the front desk could see Zack. No problem.&lt;br /&gt;We get there and Zack runs straight into Kris' office. He plays around with the computer and stuff for a few minutes then we go see the girls. After saying hi to Miss Angie he headed over to Miss Cami. He proceeded to tell her about seeing her son doing the weather on TV. Then she started telling him how her boys asked her if they could have blue hair and she is going to let them. This planted the seed into my child's head.&lt;br /&gt;You see he has been asking for a while now if I would put his hair up like a Mohawk. I get away with not being able to because we do not have the gel to do that. (Thank goodness he has not remembered to ask for it in the stores).&lt;br /&gt;This morning after combing Zack's hair he tells me he wants to have some color in his hair and some of that stuff to make a Mohawk. I just started shaking my head. He then tells me he just knows that next time we take him to the hair cutting place that they can put some color in there and I can get some stuff to put his hair in a Mohawk.&lt;br /&gt;What the heck am I going to do if he really remembers next time we get his hair cut?&lt;br /&gt;Oh I know what I will do, I will send Miss Cami the bill for my psychiatric counseling sessions!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1318777341469699753?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1318777341469699753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1318777341469699753&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1318777341469699753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1318777341469699753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/05/mohawks-and-colored-hair.html' title='Mohawks and colored hair.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-168576476635522873</id><published>2011-05-14T14:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T14:24:06.875-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Buggies</title><content type='html'>When Zack was eating his lunch this afternoon he looked at me, pointed to his tongue and said "Hey Mom, did you know there are &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Taste Bugs&lt;/span&gt; on your tongue?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I giggled and looked at him, then he realized what he said and giggled and corrected himself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-168576476635522873?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/168576476635522873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=168576476635522873&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/168576476635522873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/168576476635522873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/05/buggies.html' title='Buggies'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7883988676133648797</id><published>2011-05-10T06:41:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T07:01:01.558-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Butter me up.</title><content type='html'>Zack is a lover of fried egg sandwiches. He would eat them everyday, multiple times a day if I let him.&lt;br /&gt;When he woke up this morning he told me he couldn't think of what he wanted for breakfast which usually means 'I am thinking egg sandwich but if I say it you will tell me no'.&lt;br /&gt;Of course I let him have an egg sandwich this morning. He was kind enough to get out the bread and the mayo while I was busy cooking the egg. He also made his own strawberry milk this morning.&lt;br /&gt;Once he was seated at the table and eating I asked him how it was. He had a mouth full of sandwich so he replied with a big old smile and a thumbs up. Once he swallowed he looked at me and said "Hey Mom, you and your mother make the best egg sandwiches." (Sure kid, you know you won't get anymore if you don't butter me up).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After he finished the sandwich, he said "Mom, I give you three thumbs up for that sandwich".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's looking for something I just know it. Now to find out what it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7883988676133648797?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7883988676133648797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7883988676133648797&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7883988676133648797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7883988676133648797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/05/butter-me-up.html' title='Butter me up.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5720345167849957514</id><published>2011-05-09T08:30:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T09:18:20.664-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mothers Day</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was Mothers Day. Zack informed me the night before that I was going to sleep in because he was going to call for dad when he woke up. He did let me know that if dad did not come he would call for me and I was going to have to wake dad up but then I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to go back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I knew several days in advance that I was getting breakfast in bed. My son can not yet keep a secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So breakfast in bed it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxCzzUb4bGU/TcfiA1cTBEI/AAAAAAAAAfE/kB892rH94p8/s1600/IMG_6228.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxCzzUb4bGU/TcfiA1cTBEI/AAAAAAAAAfE/kB892rH94p8/s320/IMG_6228.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604696765259514946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notice the pancake decorated how a 5 year old boy would want it. My pancake had whip cream hair, banana eyes, chocolate chip nose and m&amp;amp;m mouth.  The chocolate milk according to Zack was the best he ever made. It was a yummy breakfast but the chef thought he needed to share it with me. I think he ate more than I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K0EKJbQQ5wM/TcfhkDO60yI/AAAAAAAAAe8/DohfK5STGUw/s1600/IMG_6300.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K0EKJbQQ5wM/TcfhkDO60yI/AAAAAAAAAe8/DohfK5STGUw/s320/IMG_6300.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604696270745293602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with breakfast in bed, I received this beautiful vase made for me especially by my up and coming carpenter. Of course he and dad clipped the rose off one of my bushes that they bought me last Mothers day. I love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the afternoon we went to the Duke Gardens and walked around. It is a very beautiful place to go walk around and get some ideas on flowers for the yard. Thankfully it was not too hot out and we were able to enjoy it without being overheated. I do wish my child would stop and smell the roses instead of having to be the one in the lead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we left there we met up with David, Lilly and Indigo. We went out to eat.  I did not want to wait so we chose a restaurant that did not have tons of people waiting outside. Red Robin it was. the food was good, the child was cranky, the service was okay. I ordered a salad and I did not realize the others at the table was placing a friendly bet on how much of it I would actually eat. The thing was huge! I ate about a fourth of it before I called it quits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5720345167849957514?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5720345167849957514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5720345167849957514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5720345167849957514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5720345167849957514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-mothers-day.html' title='My Mothers Day'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sxCzzUb4bGU/TcfiA1cTBEI/AAAAAAAAAfE/kB892rH94p8/s72-c/IMG_6228.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6131460140697873664</id><published>2011-04-26T09:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T09:45:30.319-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sing on...</title><content type='html'>Every night I sing three songs to Zack at bed time. The same three songs. If I try to skip singing one night or even skipping one song he lets me know I have to do it and do it right. If I try to change and sing something else, he doesn't even let me get the first verse out before telling me that is not right and I need to sing his songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the other night as soon as I finished the first song he had something important to ask me. I answered him and when he was satisfied with my answer he looked at me and said "Continue on Maestro".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not help myself, it struck me as funny and I was nearly in tears from laughter. He started laughing right along side me, then he said "Hey mom, why you laughing?" Which of course made it even more funny for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that kid and everything he says that makes me break into hysterical laughter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6131460140697873664?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6131460140697873664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6131460140697873664&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6131460140697873664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6131460140697873664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/sing-on.html' title='Sing on...'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6266218405742611291</id><published>2011-04-25T17:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-25T17:52:03.176-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Butterflies</title><content type='html'>Zack: "Mommy I am so sad today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Why are you sad?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "We had to let the butterflies go to their new homes today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Oh, well that is really a good thing, now they have a lot more room to fly around and play."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "I know that but I miss them already."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every single day since they got the new butterfly garden in school, Zack has come home talking about them. Several times I was dragged into the classroom (against my will on some days) just to see the caterpillars, then it was to see the chrysalis, then to see the butterflies that had already came out of the chrysalis. He was fascinated with the whole thing. So I guess going to the butterfly farm last year was a good thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6266218405742611291?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6266218405742611291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6266218405742611291&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6266218405742611291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6266218405742611291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/butterflies.html' title='Butterflies'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2502907288110705495</id><published>2011-04-24T13:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-24T13:12:08.211-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Eggs and Basket Making.</title><content type='html'>Zack wanted to color eggs so I put a dozen in the pot to boil, just as I was putting the last one in, I accidentally dropped it in the pot and it split open. oh well eleven eggs are better than none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I set up the dyes, gave Zack the eggs and handed him a white crayon so he could write or draw on the eggs before dying them. He went to town. When he went to take the first egg out of the dye, he looked at it and said "Nope, it is not done yet. I think it needs to stay in longer." After doing that with each egg, it was very apparent that he likes vibrant colors, no pastel for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aTJvnTwXgfg/TbOFbdWuHcI/AAAAAAAAAes/Yob3hVvyWQU/s1600/IMG_6110.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aTJvnTwXgfg/TbOFbdWuHcI/AAAAAAAAAes/Yob3hVvyWQU/s320/IMG_6110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598965468534545858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:85%;" &gt;Here he is trying to write I love you dad on the egg before dipping it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yiO-xmdyFMo/TbOF9iTmCeI/AAAAAAAAAe0/HNRSx0RF24U/s1600/IMG_6113.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yiO-xmdyFMo/TbOF9iTmCeI/AAAAAAAAAe0/HNRSx0RF24U/s320/IMG_6113.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598966053979163106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;Here he was fairly satisfied with deep yellow of this egg.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After he was finished coloring all the eggs, we cleaned up and he let me know how much he loves to color eggs. He told me it does not have to be Easter to be able to color eggs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also wanted to make a basket for daddy. Apparently we could not give daddy the treats we bought for him unless they were in a basket. So that put me in a spot to think of a way that a 5 year old could make a basket with things I had on hand. I came up with cutting a gallon milk container. Then Zack and I tore up some tissue paper, then mixed up some Elmer's Glue with water and painted the glue on the container. Then he put the tissue paper all over the container, painted a bit more of the glue to make sure the tissue paper was completely stuck on and left it to dry. Voila, a quick and easy basket idea that a 5 year old can do. I cut a strip of the milk container to use as a handle and covered it with ribbon then attached it to the basket. To bad I forgot to take pictures of Zack doing all that messy work. He had mixed feelings about that glue being all over his hands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2502907288110705495?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2502907288110705495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2502907288110705495&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2502907288110705495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2502907288110705495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/easter-eggs-and-basket-making.html' title='Easter Eggs and Basket Making.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aTJvnTwXgfg/TbOFbdWuHcI/AAAAAAAAAes/Yob3hVvyWQU/s72-c/IMG_6110.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4898613179254847920</id><published>2011-04-23T17:49:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T17:57:51.126-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter bunny 2011</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e4pEnEio-hs/TbNJ6aPuXfI/AAAAAAAAAek/Qfib_Lw3Odg/s1600/easter%2Bbunny%2B2011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e4pEnEio-hs/TbNJ6aPuXfI/AAAAAAAAAek/Qfib_Lw3Odg/s320/easter%2Bbunny%2B2011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598900029578173938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to visit the Easter Bunny yesterday. Zack did not say a word to him just hugged him and sat on his lap for the picture. I wonder how many more years he is going to let me get away with this :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4898613179254847920?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4898613179254847920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4898613179254847920&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4898613179254847920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4898613179254847920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/easter-bunny-2011.html' title='Easter bunny 2011'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e4pEnEio-hs/TbNJ6aPuXfI/AAAAAAAAAek/Qfib_Lw3Odg/s72-c/easter%2Bbunny%2B2011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-3126217949593968986</id><published>2011-04-22T10:22:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T10:48:38.859-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Egg Hunt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AW6-6t-F0Wg/TbGTXTk64EI/AAAAAAAAAeM/LHe6uqRRyBc/s1600/IMG_6058.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AW6-6t-F0Wg/TbGTXTk64EI/AAAAAAAAAeM/LHe6uqRRyBc/s320/IMG_6058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598417840399638594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday we chilled out during the morning then after lunch we got  ready to go to an egg hunt. The local parks and rec put out 4,000 eggs and the kids collect them all in a matter of 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;Zack was running around with a friend when we got there but once they told the kids to line up by the fence, the game was on! He was ready to run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Es0p3fETyHs/TbGUF4EtfrI/AAAAAAAAAeU/EzFQMk7Hz8w/s1600/IMG_6070.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Es0p3fETyHs/TbGUF4EtfrI/AAAAAAAAAeU/EzFQMk7Hz8w/s320/IMG_6070.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598418640470638258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He collected a fair amount of eggs and could not wait to start opening  them and seeing all the goodies he collected. Why do kids get so excited over stickers and temporary tattoos? We turn the eggs back in after opening everything so they can fill them again for next year. It helps save them some money and it is less stuff that will wind up on my living room floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zqquVz_DAFo/TbGUuKeJGZI/AAAAAAAAAec/NM7c8EdzzRE/s1600/IMG_6085.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zqquVz_DAFo/TbGUuKeJGZI/AAAAAAAAAec/NM7c8EdzzRE/s320/IMG_6085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598419332603910546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got home from that  Kris took Zack to the paintball field for a while. I just knew he would come home covered in mud, that is the only reason he goes to the field with Kris.  Yup, he did not disappoint, he came home dirty. That kid loves playing in the dirt and mud. It was Zack's turn to pick where we  were eating dinner that night. Why is it that when you try to guide him into making  a better pick he gets one place stuck in his brain and that is where  you have to go? I really wanted to go to a Mexican place but he was  insisting we go to Wendy's and since I had already promised him he could choose, I had to suck it up and go to Wendy's.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-3126217949593968986?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/3126217949593968986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=3126217949593968986&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3126217949593968986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3126217949593968986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/egg-hunt.html' title='Egg Hunt'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AW6-6t-F0Wg/TbGTXTk64EI/AAAAAAAAAeM/LHe6uqRRyBc/s72-c/IMG_6058.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6919166627817554497</id><published>2011-04-20T21:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T22:12:16.309-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Babysitting</title><content type='html'>This past Saturday night I babysat Indigo, my granddaughter so David and Lilly  could go out and have a good time. Indigo and Zack played with toys for a while,  then of course they wanted to play hide and seek so we had a rousing game of that. I have got to say  after 'finding' them for the 12th time I was pretty much done with  that. lol Why is it that kids hide in the same place all the time. How many times can one adult act surprised to find two little kids hidden under the covers on the couch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we watched  part of a movie so we could start relaxing before bed time. Once they started getting bored with the movie I knew it was time for bed. Zack was easy, he had his same routine as every other night. Indigo on the other hand insisted she needed her mommy. She did not want to lay down in the toddler bed that I have in the guest room. No, she wanted to sleep in the big bed with me. When we laid down she asked me to sing the sunshine song that I sang to Zack so I did. Each time I closed my eyes, the little stinker put her hand on my face and sort of tapped me as if to say wake up. After a half hour or so she finally fell asleep and I was able to get up.&lt;br /&gt;The next morning she wanted to know why I left her. She is too darn cute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6919166627817554497?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6919166627817554497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6919166627817554497&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6919166627817554497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6919166627817554497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/babysitting.html' title='Babysitting'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5583590353777429663</id><published>2011-04-20T10:51:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T11:17:30.918-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Grasshoppers.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V291N9fka2A/Ta71MNqASQI/AAAAAAAAAd8/37oMGYcXpCI/s1600/IMG_5329.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V291N9fka2A/Ta71MNqASQI/AAAAAAAAAd8/37oMGYcXpCI/s320/IMG_5329.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597680977041180930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Zack right before the game ended, he was starting to look a little tired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After Zack's party on Friday night we went to see a minor league baseball game. We saw the Greensboro Grasshoppers. Of course  we got there after it started but it didn't matter, it was Zack's first  game and we had great box seats so we had a good time. I think if Zack  had to be stuck in a regular seat he would not have had as much fun but  with the box seats Zack was able to move around and stand up when he  needed to. After the game, they had fireworks so we watched them and  Zack was having a blast. As we were walking to the car he asked Kris if  we could come to another game. The only problem was I forgot Zack's jacket at home so I had to give up mine when he started feeling chilly when the wind picked up. Other than that, Kris, Zack, David, Lilly, Indigo and I all had a nice time and with any luck we will be able to do it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VjVjhSeFkOI/Ta72fHPiUzI/AAAAAAAAAeE/6lmiBVtnjIc/s1600/IMG_5320.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VjVjhSeFkOI/Ta72fHPiUzI/AAAAAAAAAeE/6lmiBVtnjIc/s320/IMG_5320.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597682401248695090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Kris and Zack (also known as mini Kris).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Evrht75p-zk/Ta70Qs6NeDI/AAAAAAAAAds/80wsb5YrfsI/s1600/IMG_5322.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Evrht75p-zk/Ta70Qs6NeDI/AAAAAAAAAds/80wsb5YrfsI/s320/IMG_5322.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597679954638501938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;David&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RH__J2cUJrY/Ta70kdG-FjI/AAAAAAAAAd0/Km6uASE3fNI/s1600/IMG_5324.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RH__J2cUJrY/Ta70kdG-FjI/AAAAAAAAAd0/Km6uASE3fNI/s320/IMG_5324.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597680293994436146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Lilly and Indigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/7244646313950916140-5583590353777429663?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5583590353777429663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5583590353777429663&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5583590353777429663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5583590353777429663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/grasshoppers.html' title='Grasshoppers.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V291N9fka2A/Ta71MNqASQI/AAAAAAAAAd8/37oMGYcXpCI/s72-c/IMG_5329.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2862058174750178633</id><published>2011-04-19T21:04:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T21:36:07.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally a birthday party.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot4glGERRk4/Ta40tfA2WVI/AAAAAAAAAdU/AoMulvSCEU4/s1600/IMG_5282.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot4glGERRk4/Ta40tfA2WVI/AAAAAAAAAdU/AoMulvSCEU4/s320/IMG_5282.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597469342891923794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally had Zack's 5th birthday party on Friday night. He was so excited  because we had it at the children's museum. Which is one of his favorite places to  be. After feeding the kids pizza, then cake all the kids took off out  of the party room to go play. Being a Friday night there were not many  other people there so they pretty much had the run of the place. They  even were able to go out back and check out the garden the museum has  started so they can teach kids about healthy foods. The museum also has added a  chicken coop with a few chickens so Zack was able to feed a couple  chickens which he later told me "they pecked my hands." He had a great time. The morning after he told me he had such a fun time that he wants his 6th birthday party there too!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IfCrm4dx9hE/Ta41W4EQA3I/AAAAAAAAAdc/GCUgqbyLzrE/s1600/IMG_5314.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IfCrm4dx9hE/Ta41W4EQA3I/AAAAAAAAAdc/GCUgqbyLzrE/s320/IMG_5314.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597470053991711602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ssZdsOP_Wj0/Ta431MNsdUI/AAAAAAAAAdk/Z2BwCtPDt5I/s1600/IMG_5318.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ssZdsOP_Wj0/Ta431MNsdUI/AAAAAAAAAdk/Z2BwCtPDt5I/s320/IMG_5318.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597472773819364674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2862058174750178633?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2862058174750178633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2862058174750178633&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2862058174750178633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2862058174750178633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/finally-birthday-party.html' title='Finally a birthday party.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot4glGERRk4/Ta40tfA2WVI/AAAAAAAAAdU/AoMulvSCEU4/s72-c/IMG_5282.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-3005318774549803028</id><published>2011-04-15T15:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T15:15:33.134-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I am so mean...</title><content type='html'>Zack: "Mom can I have a snack?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "No, if you have a snack now, you can not have cake tonight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Argh Mom, you are so not going to get a raise. No more extra money for you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "What? Am I missing something? When did I start getting paid?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack just rolled his eyes are me and walked off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone please tell me when I started getting paid and where the heck is this money going?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I called for Zack and told him it was time to go brush his teeth and wash up so he could go to school. There was no response, so I walked into the living room to find him hiding under a blanket on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Zack get up you need to get ready for school."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Zack is not here... leave a message after the beep.... BEEP."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Zack go get ready for school."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "I told you Zack is not here, leave a message after the beep... BEEP."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Zack I am not kidding, go get ready now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got off the couch grumbling "Mom, you are not fair, you wake me up to early, you make me do things I don't want to do and you make me go to school when I don't want to."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh being a mom is so much fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-3005318774549803028?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/3005318774549803028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=3005318774549803028&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3005318774549803028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3005318774549803028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-am-so-mean.html' title='I am so mean...'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-3304392029046342125</id><published>2011-04-11T14:44:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T18:48:04.607-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning new words. - Updated</title><content type='html'>Lets see in the past week I have been called lame a few times. Now according to my 5 year old "Mom you are so pathetic."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has been using the word stupid a lot which is driving me crazy. When I asked him where he heard that one he told me Squidward on SpongeBob uses that word. Thanks SpongeBob... NOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love when my kiddo learns new words (insert me rolling my eyes here). He does not quite know what the meaning really is but hey they are big words to him so he uses them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and the best was last week Kris was trying tell Zack something that he apparently did not want to hear. The next thing we knew Zack told him to 'put a sock in it'. Yup he said it and he knew what it meant. We questioned him on where he heard it because neither Kris nor I use that term. Apparently that is the term his teachers use at nap time when the kids continue to talk instead of being quiet like they are supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UPDATE:&lt;br /&gt;Tonight Zack said "Hey Mom, I learned a new word for mouth."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Oh, and what word would that be?"&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Salavation."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "What?"&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Sal-a-va-tion"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "And that means what?"&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "That is another word for mouth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon deeper searching he meant salivation meaning drooling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-3304392029046342125?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/3304392029046342125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=3304392029046342125&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3304392029046342125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3304392029046342125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/learning-new-words.html' title='Learning new words. - Updated'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8699939153160299537</id><published>2011-04-06T19:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T19:22:58.773-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wordless Wednesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C2hsV79N6y4/TZz1eImFKkI/AAAAAAAAAdM/ptwm4NRjkeE/s1600/IMG_5212.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C2hsV79N6y4/TZz1eImFKkI/AAAAAAAAAdM/ptwm4NRjkeE/s320/IMG_5212.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592614735339399746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Zackary and Grandma baking some Cruder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-8699939153160299537?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8699939153160299537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8699939153160299537&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8699939153160299537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8699939153160299537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/wordless-wednesday.html' title='Wordless Wednesday'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C2hsV79N6y4/TZz1eImFKkI/AAAAAAAAAdM/ptwm4NRjkeE/s72-c/IMG_5212.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8708728176616575025</id><published>2011-04-01T08:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T08:35:43.559-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April Fools Day breakfast</title><content type='html'>It was just too easy thing morning.&lt;br /&gt;I woke Zack up this morning, told him his breakfast was already made. He got up, went and climbed into bed with daddy like he does every morning. A few minutes later I told him to get to the table because his bagel and cream cheese was waiting for him.&lt;br /&gt;Typical Zack style, he stuck his finger in the cream cheese and licked it. And that is when he caught on.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EEf6IqWW3cA/TZXFF_OozxI/AAAAAAAAAdE/BFvwMle4xPg/s1600/IMG_5195.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EEf6IqWW3cA/TZXFF_OozxI/AAAAAAAAAdE/BFvwMle4xPg/s320/IMG_5195.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590591219113185042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom you tricked me this is not cream cheese, it is frosting!"&lt;br /&gt;It took another minute before he took a bite of the bagel to realize it was a donut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just wait until he sees what is for dinner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-8708728176616575025?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8708728176616575025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8708728176616575025&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8708728176616575025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8708728176616575025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/04/april-fools-day-breakfast.html' title='April Fools Day breakfast'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EEf6IqWW3cA/TZXFF_OozxI/AAAAAAAAAdE/BFvwMle4xPg/s72-c/IMG_5195.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5609471963003671535</id><published>2011-03-30T21:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T21:40:51.544-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wordless Wednesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yb1lJZTBYAw/TZPbhzyNAzI/AAAAAAAAAc8/dtra0l00nq4/s1600/IMG_5185.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yb1lJZTBYAw/TZPbhzyNAzI/AAAAAAAAAc8/dtra0l00nq4/s320/IMG_5185.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590052936379859762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5609471963003671535?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5609471963003671535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5609471963003671535&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5609471963003671535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5609471963003671535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/wordless-wednesday_30.html' title='Wordless Wednesday'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yb1lJZTBYAw/TZPbhzyNAzI/AAAAAAAAAc8/dtra0l00nq4/s72-c/IMG_5185.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1095264945709473316</id><published>2011-03-28T15:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-28T15:23:00.331-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is an Apple Cruder?</title><content type='html'>On the way home from picking Zack up at school today he said "Mom, I loved breakfast today." I had forgotten that I let him eat at school today instead of fixing him breakfast at home. So I asked him what he had to eat. He told me an Apple Crutter. I don't know what the heck an Apple Crutter is so I asked him what an Apple Crutter was. He said "No Mom an Apple Cruder". (Pronounced Crude-er) Okay at this point I am thinking to myself that I must be dumb because I have never heard of an Apple Cruder. So I asked again "What is an Apple Cruder?" He gets louder at this point like I am hard of hearing and says "Mom, I said an Apple Cruder!" So I asked him to please explain it to me, tell me what it looked like and what it tasted like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mom it has apples and cinnamon and it is on a stick and you cook it. It is about this big " (he holds his hands about 3-4 inches apart). I am still at a loss as to what it could mean so I asked again if it was really called an Apple Cruder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was starting to get irritated with me as he repeated for the 100th time "It was an Apple Cru-Der."&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Do you mean an apple fritter?"&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "No, an Apple Cruder."&lt;br /&gt;My brain is going a mile a minute trying to think of things made with apple.&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Do you mean Apple Strudel?"&lt;br /&gt;Zack: "Yes that is what I told you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I had tears rolling down my face from laughing so hard which was not a good thing while trying to drive.&lt;br /&gt;Since when do they put Apple Strudel on sticks and serve them for breakfast?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1095264945709473316?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1095264945709473316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1095264945709473316&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1095264945709473316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1095264945709473316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/what-is-apple-cruder.html' title='What is an Apple Cruder?'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5027968106245731575</id><published>2011-03-23T20:52:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T21:51:01.043-04:00</updated><title type='text'>80 degree squirter fight...</title><content type='html'>Zack loves to play with water. He still loves to play with his water table, he loves going to the beach, and he loves to play squirters (that is what he calls water guns).  In the dead of winter he asks to have squirter fights. I feel like I am always explaining to him that it is to cold out so I came up with a plan. It has to be 80 degrees outside to be able to get the squirters out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since this plan went into effect, Zack watches the weather man every morning and waits patiently to see if the number 80 appears anywhere on the screen. Well today he was super excited to see it. That is all he talked about on the way to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I picked him up we made a plan. We are evil little planners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had the squirters filled and ready to go so when we saw Kris pull in the driveway we ran out the door and hid behind my truck. We waited. Every couple of seconds Zack would stand up and try to sneak a peak to see if Kris was out of the car yet. Once Kris got out of his car, Zack and I jumped up and ambushed him! My manly man husband let out a roar when that cold water hit him! My innocent little boy couldn't seem to hit his target because he was laughing so much so I just had to pick up the slack for him :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kris was a little wet when we let him into the house but thankfully he was a good sport about it.&lt;br /&gt;Once inside the house Zack walked up to Kris and said "We are the champions of 80 degree squirters". I could not help but laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not know why but I have a feeling there is going to be some payback soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5027968106245731575?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5027968106245731575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5027968106245731575&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5027968106245731575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5027968106245731575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/80-degree-squirter-fight.html' title='80 degree squirter fight...'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1012914500257615669</id><published>2011-03-23T09:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T09:22:28.711-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wordless Wednesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hQvwtClMFjE/TYnzxhJsTsI/AAAAAAAAAc0/xztiteC9yEM/s1600/IMG_5155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hQvwtClMFjE/TYnzxhJsTsI/AAAAAAAAAc0/xztiteC9yEM/s320/IMG_5155.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587264844767973058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the attitude he woke up with this morning. Can you say early bedtime tonight...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1012914500257615669?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1012914500257615669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1012914500257615669&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1012914500257615669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1012914500257615669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/wordless-wednesday_23.html' title='Wordless Wednesday'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hQvwtClMFjE/TYnzxhJsTsI/AAAAAAAAAc0/xztiteC9yEM/s72-c/IMG_5155.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5591721916603220838</id><published>2011-03-22T07:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T08:23:19.526-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Movie night</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I promised Zack we would watch a movie together. He asked me to choose the movie, so I did. When I went to pop the popcorn he decided he did not want to watch that one and he picked out a different one. The little stinker does that all the time. Next time I will pick the one I do not want to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way up stairs I went to turn off the light and lock the door and I spilled most of my popcorn, duh moment #1. Then I went to set my drink down so I could clean up my popcorn and I missed the darn table completely and tea went flying everywhere, duh moment #2!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My darling little boy who is standing on the stairs with his drink and his popcorn in hand looked at me and said "Hey Mom, this night is not starting out so good." (Thanks a lot kid.) Then he laughed at me. He giggled so much he spilled his own popcorn. (Ha that will teach him to laugh at me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally made it up the stairs and started the movie, with barely any popcorn in my bowl I was hoping the giggler would share his with me. Not a chance on that one. He told me I should not have dropped mine :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note:&lt;br /&gt;Zack had his 5 year well visit with the doctor today. As I expected it was a battle. He did well enough to get things done and checked but when it was time for his shots he freaked out. I am so grateful he does not have to have anymore shots. &lt;br /&gt;He still has a lot of fluid in the ears so he is still not hearing everything. We are to continue with his meds for that. He had his first experience with the whole pee in a cup and he was not so happy with that.&lt;br /&gt;My just turned 5 year old is one half inch away from being 4 foot tall! Where the hell did this kid get his height? It certainly was not from me. I fear by the time he is in 3rd grade I will be looking up to him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5591721916603220838?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5591721916603220838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5591721916603220838&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5591721916603220838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5591721916603220838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/movie-night.html' title='Movie night'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2205156344445904874</id><published>2011-03-17T22:36:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T10:52:26.776-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Strong man.</title><content type='html'>My child is just to darn strong! He is a powerhouse at the tender age of 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight before soccer practice one kid decided he wanted to play goalie. They don't have goalies at this age but this kid wanted to. The coach and Zack were kicking the ball at him while they were waiting for others to show up. Zack lined up an kicked it. The next thing I know I heard a thud and  the goalie went down on the ground crying. Oh man, I felt so bad for the kid because I knew it hurt. Zack had kicked that ball hard and nailed the kid right in the chest. A few minutes of crying and catching his breathe and the kid was ok. Zack apologized for hurting him, all was well with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About half an hour later they were on the field, Zack kicked the ball and nailed this poor kid again! This time he got him on the thigh, the kid went down again in tears. Trust me my kid is not out to get this other kid, they actually get along pretty well on the field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on during practice the coach put up his hand for a high five from Zack. When Zack slapped his hand the coach pulled his hand away shaking it as he was saying "Ouch". No he was not playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son does not know his own strength. He does not get that when he swings, it hurts. I have been on the receiving end of his strength when we clown around. When I get to tickling him that kid just start swinging his arms and legs. He is brutal. I have gotten my share of bruises but he is not doing it intentionally. He is just so darn powerful for a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pity anyone who makes him mad when he becomes an adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;______________________&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, in the car yesterday he was a little chatter box. At one point he started a conversation with "Hey Mom when I grow up and you are old..." I will admit at that point I tuned him out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2205156344445904874?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2205156344445904874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2205156344445904874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2205156344445904874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2205156344445904874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/mr-strong-man.html' title='Mr. Strong man.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4113668331121528874</id><published>2011-03-17T11:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T11:22:18.721-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Silly St. Patrick's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Happy Saint Patrick's Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack asked me if the Leprechaun was going to sneak into our house again this year like he did last year. When I told him I did not know he asked if we could trap him so he did not do anything sneaky again to all our food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for the past two days Zack has worked hard on building a trap. He painted a box to look like a green castle. To my impatient child the waiting for the paint to dry was the hardest task. Last night before bed he was so excited to set the trap, he just knew he would get to see that little leprechaun in the morning. He made sure the gold coins were just right so they could be seen by that leprechaun and lure him in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning came and my goodness there were shamrocks on the floor in his bedroom, they led out the door and to the stairs. Then down the stairs, through the dining room, into the kitchen then to the living room. They stopped right in front of the trap. He just knew the leprechaun was trapped in that castle. When we lifted up the castle there was no leprechaun and no gold coins either but the little sneak left Zack some chocolate coins and a few other little things. Boy was my child disappointed not to see the Leprechaun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did scream and giggle when he got the milk out and he realized the Leprechaun had turned it green! While he was eating he was telling me all about the trap he wants to build next year because 'after all we have to build one every year until we catch him'. I hope he continues to do silly things with his kids when he becomes a dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack decided he wanted to take lunch to school today so  I packed a ham sandwich on spinach wraps (because they are green) and I cut it into a shamrock shape. Must stick with the theme of the day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to see my little man giggle over such silliness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4113668331121528874?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4113668331121528874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4113668331121528874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4113668331121528874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4113668331121528874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/silly-st-patricks-day.html' title='Silly St. Patrick&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4566292751348830982</id><published>2011-03-16T07:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T08:03:41.004-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wordless Wednesday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cpCCCzSPZ9g/TYCm_Fs7qfI/AAAAAAAAAcs/fnckcUyJ1g0/s1600/IMG_5072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cpCCCzSPZ9g/TYCm_Fs7qfI/AAAAAAAAAcs/fnckcUyJ1g0/s320/IMG_5072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584647140732021234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8RVGPMkRQK0/TYCmodo5RNI/AAAAAAAAAck/zFjCW2xo_n0/s1600/IMG_5068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8RVGPMkRQK0/TYCmodo5RNI/AAAAAAAAAck/zFjCW2xo_n0/s320/IMG_5068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584646752020546770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4566292751348830982?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4566292751348830982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4566292751348830982&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4566292751348830982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4566292751348830982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/wordless-wednesday.html' title='Wordless Wednesday'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cpCCCzSPZ9g/TYCm_Fs7qfI/AAAAAAAAAcs/fnckcUyJ1g0/s72-c/IMG_5072.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6258901371219147074</id><published>2011-03-07T21:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T21:59:36.444-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversation</title><content type='html'>A conversation I had with Zack tonight went like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Me: Zack how could you be almost five years old already?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Zack: I don't know, I just am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Me: Before you know it, you will be married and have your own children.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"&gt;Zack: Oh No Mom, I am never leaving you, not even when I am six.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6258901371219147074?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6258901371219147074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6258901371219147074&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6258901371219147074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6258901371219147074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/conversation.html' title='Conversation'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-3360058756210449059</id><published>2011-03-03T16:46:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T21:50:52.898-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dr. Suess</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was the birth date of Theodore S. Geisel also known as Dr. Suess. This year we decided to celebrate his birthday for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We made a small treat for each of Zacks classmates (when I say we, I mean me. Zack decided it was more important to go outside to play).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wem7PSEXxI4/TXAOgsLs4RI/AAAAAAAAAb8/sHxJ-X7_cwg/s1600/IMG_5007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wem7PSEXxI4/TXAOgsLs4RI/AAAAAAAAAb8/sHxJ-X7_cwg/s320/IMG_5007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579975893090885906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;'The Cat in the Hat'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It is just a Oreo Fudge Creme with a marshmallow on top held on by some frosting, then I piped a couple stripes of frosting in red to look like the hat from The Cat in the Hat. Simple, easy and all the kids and teachers loved it in school!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zacks class made some Cat in the Hat hats to wear in school. He was so excited about this simple little hat he wore it for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-X3H9Q_0mQ/TXBLfzVPYrI/AAAAAAAAAcE/D6n6GYdHhPM/s1600/IMG_5008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-X3H9Q_0mQ/TXBLfzVPYrI/AAAAAAAAAcE/D6n6GYdHhPM/s320/IMG_5008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580042948039369394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;'The Cat in the Hat comes back'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;After he came home from school we made some Green OObleck also known as goo. He had a blast playing with this. When it was in the bowl it was hard and he could punch it but when he grabbed some and lifted it, it was a liquid. He asked if we could make this again another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1SIy94qroHQ/TXBN_gibeQI/AAAAAAAAAcM/fJ_SbeyPWKQ/s1600/IMG_5009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1SIy94qroHQ/TXBN_gibeQI/AAAAAAAAAcM/fJ_SbeyPWKQ/s320/IMG_5009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580045691773483266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O7yO_iW9Wso/TXBOOHgjQ3I/AAAAAAAAAcU/MQfPzw7mTcY/s1600/IMG_5013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O7yO_iW9Wso/TXBOOHgjQ3I/AAAAAAAAAcU/MQfPzw7mTcY/s320/IMG_5013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580045942752756594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;'Bartholomew and the Oobleck'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"&gt;When dinner time rolled around we could not let the day pass without having some Suessical type of dinner. I know it is hard to see in the picture but that is green eggs and ham.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLE6DjbdAr8/TXBOfQYdjZI/AAAAAAAAAcc/FBuzi_8mRSQ/s1600/IMG_5015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLE6DjbdAr8/TXBOfQYdjZI/AAAAAAAAAcc/FBuzi_8mRSQ/s320/IMG_5015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580046237192523154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;'Green Eggs and Ham'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And to end a wonderful day of celebrating a legend in the world of children's books we sang happy birthday to a man who brings such joy to many children around the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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/7244646313950916140-3360058756210449059?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/3360058756210449059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=3360058756210449059&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3360058756210449059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3360058756210449059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/dr-suess.html' title='Dr. Suess'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wem7PSEXxI4/TXAOgsLs4RI/AAAAAAAAAb8/sHxJ-X7_cwg/s72-c/IMG_5007.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-3198094093314595311</id><published>2011-02-25T09:52:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T10:07:12.169-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday David</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uS9q7r2lQ5Y/TWfCqTjj5nI/AAAAAAAAAbc/-AcgtisWvzM/s1600/David%2Bbaby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uS9q7r2lQ5Y/TWfCqTjj5nI/AAAAAAAAAbc/-AcgtisWvzM/s320/David%2Bbaby.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577640695581369970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YuwhsX6UVuM/TWfDyMKynWI/AAAAAAAAAbs/kx_yPGrTfn4/s1600/DSC03243.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D6H4mr9loBE/TWfCjqRngXI/AAAAAAAAAbU/Y8sNWr_En8s/s1600/david.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D6H4mr9loBE/TWfCjqRngXI/AAAAAAAAAbU/Y8sNWr_En8s/s320/david.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577640581421039986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3EuntJX4Xss/TWfDNNAxxeI/AAAAAAAAAbk/dAJsweWaVkM/s1600/DSC00836.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3EuntJX4Xss/TWfDNNAxxeI/AAAAAAAAAbk/dAJsweWaVkM/s320/DSC00836.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577641295120287202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_8vZ9SHLsnE/TWfEG6ykh8I/AAAAAAAAAb0/_wpPXIn2xpM/s1600/DSC03257.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_8vZ9SHLsnE/TWfEG6ykh8I/AAAAAAAAAb0/_wpPXIn2xpM/s320/DSC03257.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577642286661273538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;Happy Birthday David!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*It is not possible that I gave birth to my first son 27 years ago today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-3198094093314595311?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/3198094093314595311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=3198094093314595311&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3198094093314595311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3198094093314595311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/happy-birthday-david.html' title='Happy Birthday David'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uS9q7r2lQ5Y/TWfCqTjj5nI/AAAAAAAAAbc/-AcgtisWvzM/s72-c/David%2Bbaby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7468072618595216602</id><published>2011-02-24T13:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T14:04:44.824-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chopped Liver</title><content type='html'>I give up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon Zack and I were chatting about nothing, while he ate his after school snack. After a while I asked him who my pride and joy was. He responded with Daddy, David and Me. I let him know he was right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few seconds of silence and he came out with "Mom, let me tell you who I love. I love Daddy, David, Grandma and Grandpa..." He went on to name a few more people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not mentioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you read that right, I WAS NOT MENTIONED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I asked him why he didn't love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Well Mom I don't love you because you are chopped liver."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I will admit my jaw hit the floor. So there you have it, on February 23, 2011 I officially became chopped liver!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7468072618595216602?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7468072618595216602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7468072618595216602&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7468072618595216602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7468072618595216602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/chopped-liver.html' title='Chopped Liver'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1550358203768935865</id><published>2011-02-16T20:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T20:47:40.395-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Trading Up.</title><content type='html'>This morning while Zack was getting his shoes and coat on so we could head out to school, I checked out the front door to see if Kris was nice enough to warm up my truck for us. No such luck, he was already gone. Jokingly I said to Zack "Gee Daddy sure is rude, he did not even warm the truck up for us."&lt;br /&gt;Much to my surprise my little man said " If daddy does not warm up our truck then we are going to trade him in for a new daddy."&lt;br /&gt;I could not help but laugh! I called Kris but only got his voice mail. While I was leaving him a  message telling him what his son said, Zack must have thought he needed to revise that because he yelled into the phone, "Daddy if you don't warm our truck up we are going to trade you in for a new daddy BUT if he doesn't warm our truck up then we will take you back."&lt;br /&gt;Gosh I love that kid!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1550358203768935865?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1550358203768935865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1550358203768935865&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1550358203768935865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1550358203768935865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/trading-up.html' title='Trading Up.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7271467479875260641</id><published>2011-02-16T13:02:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-16T13:15:36.623-05:00</updated><title type='text'>3 Years.</title><content type='html'>It has been three years since the passing of my father in law John. We may not be able to see him but he is still very much loved and missed by many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_3VkqXh6A8Q/TVwTXsLmlDI/AAAAAAAAAbE/pueMXKuqhPg/s1600/DSC00055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_3VkqXh6A8Q/TVwTXsLmlDI/AAAAAAAAAbE/pueMXKuqhPg/s320/DSC00055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574351736495576114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--PoTLsPeuxk/TVwT4g9DiDI/AAAAAAAAAbM/QZqkMZlu5fg/s1600/DSC02812.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--PoTLsPeuxk/TVwT4g9DiDI/AAAAAAAAAbM/QZqkMZlu5fg/s320/DSC02812.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574352300417452082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7271467479875260641?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7271467479875260641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7271467479875260641&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7271467479875260641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7271467479875260641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/3-years.html' title='3 Years.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_3VkqXh6A8Q/TVwTXsLmlDI/AAAAAAAAAbE/pueMXKuqhPg/s72-c/DSC00055.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-7187480145633302856</id><published>2011-02-14T19:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T09:05:34.817-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't know.</title><content type='html'>Zack was busy playing his Nintendo DS the other day when out of the blue he says&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Z: "Hey Mom. I just don't know."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Don't know what Zack?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Z: "Well, Mom I just don't know what the name of the girl I am going to marry is going to be."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "You don't know the name of who your wife is going to be?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Z: "No."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "It is alright, you have a long long time before you will get married so I wouldn't worry about that right now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;Z: "Oh, OK."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea why he was thinking about this, he was not playing a game that would have made him think about something like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-7187480145633302856?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/7187480145633302856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=7187480145633302856&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7187480145633302856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/7187480145633302856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-dont-know.html' title='I don&apos;t know.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6957550031818219216</id><published>2011-02-13T10:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T10:58:20.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shout Out.</title><content type='html'>Kris offered to take Zack with him today to go hang out at a paintball field. Of course Zack was not going to turn down that offer. Hanging out at a paintball field means playing in dirt. mud puddles and throwing rocks. Three of his favorite things to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they are getting ready to leave Zack says "Hey Mom, if you decide we can go to Burger King today that would be a good thing and you can just call us on the phone, just give us a shout. We can meet you there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give us a shout?, now where the heck did he hear that? I have never said that and I don't think I have heard Kris say it either. I will admit it was kind of funny hearing something like that come from this little man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6957550031818219216?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6957550031818219216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6957550031818219216&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6957550031818219216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6957550031818219216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/shout-out.html' title='Shout Out.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1439231463394387710</id><published>2011-02-09T22:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T15:09:59.847-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A star is born.</title><content type='html'>We have a television star in the family now. Does it matter that it was a closed circuit television and only the children in the school were able to view it? Heck no, that does not matter at all!  Zack was so excited that he was on television at school. He was chosen two days in a row to go to the media center and say the pledge of allegiance.&lt;br /&gt;He wanted to say the pledge and he wanted to do well with it so he practiced it a few times.&lt;br /&gt;If I had a disk for my camera I would get him on video because it is too darn cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He holds his hand over his heart and says " I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of Amewica (he still does not save the R sound down yet) and to the Wepublic for which it stands, one nation under God , Invisible (yes that is what he says), with liberty and jusnice (I am not really sure what a jusnice is but we will go with that for now) to all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think his new found stardom has gone to his head but then again you never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1439231463394387710?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1439231463394387710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1439231463394387710&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1439231463394387710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1439231463394387710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/star-is-born.html' title='A star is born.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5711062890726034141</id><published>2011-02-08T18:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T18:46:41.294-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fluid in the ears.</title><content type='html'>We made it into the doctor to have Zacks ears checked. On the way over there, he started getting worried about going. By the time we made it into the waiting room, he was filled with "Mommy I don't really want to do this." I lost count of how many times I tried to reassure him that all they were going to do was have him listen to the beeps in the headphones and then look into his ears with the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they finally called his name, I was very grateful that he had the sweetest nurse. She asked him to get on the scale, then took his temperature. Then lead him to the quiet room. He asked me to stand next to him so I did. She explained everything to him before she did anything. He could not have been a better patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were waiting in the exam room, he was a bit nervous again but I assured him everything was going to be fine. His pediatrician came in and said he failed the hearing exam with them. When he checked Zacks ears he said there is so much fluid in there that the ear drum can not vibrate. He said there is no wax in his ears so that is a good thing. The fluid that is in his ears is not causing an infection it is just the amount that is in there that is preventing him from hearing certain sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack sat there like such a big boy and told the doctor how he can not hear somethings when he is too far away from them. He let the doctor know he needs to have the television up or he can not hear his favorite cartoons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he is on two medicines to clear up all the fluid and we go back in 3 weeks to have his hearing tested again.&lt;br /&gt;I can not say how relieved I am that it is not something serious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5711062890726034141?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5711062890726034141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5711062890726034141&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5711062890726034141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5711062890726034141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/fluid-in-ears.html' title='Fluid in the ears.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1248935212569768301</id><published>2011-02-07T17:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T18:05:00.215-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Cake Choices.</title><content type='html'>The other day I asked Zack what kind of birthday cake he wanted this year. He just looked at me, so I named a few off for him to choose from. Vanilla, Chocolate, Marble, Carrot... You know I was thinking of just picking up a sheet cake at the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then said I will think about it and let you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day I had Paula &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Deen&lt;/span&gt; from the Food network on TV. I was not paying too much attention to the show but apparently Zack was because he started pointing to the TV and says "Mom that's it, that is the cake I want, I want that Chocolate Explosion Cake!" I looked up just in time to see her and her guests enjoying a delicious looking cheesecake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty sure I did not mention cheesecake as one of the choices I listed for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh why oh why does my child have to love the finer things in life?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1248935212569768301?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1248935212569768301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1248935212569768301&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1248935212569768301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1248935212569768301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/birthday-cake-choices.html' title='Birthday Cake Choices.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-557913464517801223</id><published>2011-02-02T21:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T21:50:34.599-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Failed a hearing screening</title><content type='html'>For the past few weeks I have been noticing my son is not hearing everything I say. I wondered many times if he was just using that all so powerful male selective hearing. If I was in the other room and said something to him in a normal tone of voice, it was a hit or miss if he responded to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I posted a question on a local mommies board that I belong to asking for recommendations on a doctor the specializes in pediatric hearing. I definitely do not want to take my child to just anyone, I want someone good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That same day I was a bit rushed when dropping off Zack. I planned to ask his teacher if she has noticed any problems. I never had the chance to ask her. The following day when I went into the class to pick Zack up, the teacher pulled a note out of his folder and handed it to me. As I was opening it she explained to me her supervisor was going through the records of the students and Zack was up for a hearing screening. They screened him that afternoon and he failed the screening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The speech/language teacher was just leaving the room and came over to talk with me. He failed in both ears. He failed to hear both the highest and lowest sounds. I let her know Kris and I were just discussing taking him to the doctor the day before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is going to test him again in two weeks. If he fails again then the audiologist for the school system will be contacted and we can take it from there or we can go elsewhere. I told her I would talk with Kris and see if we wanted to take him to the pediatrician before the next screening. So I made an appointment with the pediatrician. I am praying it is something as simple as a wax build-up in his ears. I do not want to take any chances with my childs hearing. After all this is the child that would wake up at the slightest sound while he was sleeping. No matter where he was in the house, he would hear me open the refrigerator and ask what I was eating. He did not miss a thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had his hearing checked twice as a toddler, not because he was having problems hearing but because he was not talking and it was part of the therapy he received. There were no problems with his hearing then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate having to wait for the appointment. In the mean time I will just pray there is nothing seriously wrong with his hearing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-557913464517801223?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/557913464517801223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=557913464517801223&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/557913464517801223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/557913464517801223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/failed-hearing-screening.html' title='Failed a hearing screening'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1455173347462562931</id><published>2011-02-01T14:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T14:17:42.055-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Son of a</title><content type='html'>Today Zack was sitting at the table eating his after school snack. He chose to have some Goldfish crackers in a small bowl. When he was almost finished, he accidentally knocked over the bowl spilling a few crackers onto the floor. I saw it just as it was hitting the floor, I looked up at him just as he slapped his hand to his forehead yelling "Son of a". Thank goodness he chose to leave the last part blank.&lt;br /&gt;I will admit when I do something stupid I normally say "Son of a" and I leave the last part blank.  I never really pay much attention to what I am saying but apparently my child does.&lt;br /&gt;I really need to watch what I say around this kid!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1455173347462562931?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1455173347462562931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1455173347462562931&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1455173347462562931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1455173347462562931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/02/son-of.html' title='Son of a'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6904533759419826404</id><published>2011-01-29T20:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-29T21:10:11.882-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh.</title><content type='html'>I did something tonight I do not normally do. I just felt the need to lay in Zack's bed with him until he fell asleep. I do not know why because this is not something we normally do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did the whole get ready for bed routine, washed, brushed teeth, said prayers, climbed into bed and read a few books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked me to sing to him like I do every night. Then he went through his check list of things he tells me every night before I leave the room, when I told him I wanted him to have sweet dreams he asked me what he should dream about. This happens quite often so I make up silly things for him to dream about and tonight he helped me make things up. I like to send my child off to dream land with happy, silly thoughts so I make up silly stories about him jumping in a puddle of chocolate pudding or ice skating on a pond made of jello... You get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we did the whole dream thing he grabbed my arm and held on tight so I just laid there with him until he was asleep. As I tried to get out of his bed without waking him, he rolled over and whispered "I love you Mommy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes my heart melt to hear him say those four little words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6904533759419826404?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6904533759419826404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6904533759419826404&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6904533759419826404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6904533759419826404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/01/sigh.html' title='Sigh.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-3298080444946290986</id><published>2011-01-28T08:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T08:22:03.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pajamas, a childs joy.</title><content type='html'>You would have thought my son won a million dollars by the way he was acting this morning. He woke up grinning from ear to ear, singing his own made up tunes and filled to the brim with happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What made this child so happy? Well let me tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is Pajama Day at school today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes pajama day, where any and all students and teachers can wear their pajamas to school for the entire day. A day where everyone can be in total comfort. A day where you can wear something you are not normally supposed to wear in a public place. A day you do not have to get out of your warm cozy pajamas to change into clothes that can be more confining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I heard the words 'it's pajama day' once this morning then I can guarantee you I heard them no less than 30 times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we walked into school we were waiting in the hallway for his teacher to get there, 6 out of 7 kids were in their pajamas. The one child bust into tears because he knew nothing about it. I felt so bad for him especially because all the others were talking about it being pajamas day and how awesome each of their pajamas are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it funny how something so simple could bring such joy and pleasure to a little one? I think we all need to take lessons from our kids and learn to love the little things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW anyone that knows my child knows he would live in his pajamas if we let him. There are many days when we having nothing planned and he begs to stay in his pajamas all day so I let him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-3298080444946290986?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/3298080444946290986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=3298080444946290986&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3298080444946290986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/3298080444946290986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/01/pajamas-childs-joy.html' title='Pajamas, a childs joy.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-438143045133201318</id><published>2011-01-27T08:40:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T11:22:01.371-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pure laziness.</title><content type='html'>This morning the schools automated message called to say there was a 2 hour delay because of black ice on the roads. Alright no problem but now I can not get back to sleep. I will admit that I just continued to lay there in bed watching the morning news. I know I should have gotten up and done something but I was tired and was secretly hoping I would fall back asleep.&lt;br /&gt;With school being delayed I did not wake up Zack, I let him sleep until he woke up. At nearly 7:30 I hear my precious little boy awaken and turn on his lamp. Then I hear the voice of my precious little boy calling out "hey lazy bones I am ready to get up!" So much for him being precious!&lt;br /&gt;I need to teach that boy a lesson, how dare he call his mother 'lazy bones'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-size:78%;" &gt;So what if it just so happened to be the truth this morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-438143045133201318?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/438143045133201318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=438143045133201318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/438143045133201318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/438143045133201318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/01/pure-laziness.html' title='Pure laziness.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1630584223735035398</id><published>2011-01-23T13:50:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T09:58:06.511-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thrifty Mama.</title><content type='html'>Zack is already looking forward to his birthday. He still has nearly 2 months to go before it happens but yesterday he came into the dining room and he said "Hey Mom do not forget the party hats."&lt;br /&gt;I have to say I was a bit confused because we certainly have not talked about any kind of parties happening. Without trying to sound stupid I asked him what he was talking about. While rolling his eyes at me he responded with "my birthday party silly". Alright then he must have been pondering this for a while then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him I would not forget them and that we still had plenty of time. He then turned to walk away so I thought I had satisfied him enough that the subject was dropped for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy was I wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked about 6 steps then turned and looked me square in the eye and said "Oh and Mom, Don't be cheap."  Don't be cheap, what in the world is this kid talking about? I asked him what he meant by that and the little bugger responded with "Don't be cheap on the presents." I nearly fell over with laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What could I possibly say to that? Apparently this child of mine does not understand I am not cheap... just thrifty!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1630584223735035398?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1630584223735035398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1630584223735035398&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1630584223735035398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1630584223735035398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/01/thrifty-mama.html' title='Thrifty Mama.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6156578691140660426</id><published>2011-01-20T10:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T10:43:54.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The dreaded phone call.</title><content type='html'>When I  dropped Zack off at school, he was in a happy and playful mood this morning.&lt;br /&gt;About 30 minutes later I received a phone call from the assistant teacher, come pick up your son he struck me twice and scratched me and needs to be removed from the class for the day. Fortunately for him he was not sent to the principals office but because it happened in class and all the other children saw it, they wanted everyone to know they will not stand for that kind of behavior. Which I agree with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say I was shocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got there his teacher was heading into the classroom, she told me she did not see what happened but she said "that is just not like him at all". He would not tell her what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me he was put into time out because he told D to go into the blocks center so his friend W could come to play with him. The kids are not allowed to tell other kids what centers to go to. He knows this. When headed to the time out chair D got in his face and was 'telling' him something and he just hit and doesn't know why. I can only assume the assistant got between the two boys but that does not change the fact that he hit someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made him go tell her he was sorry even though he says he already did that when it happened. Now he is sitting up in his room, no television, no video games, no toys for the day. He just does not get the whole concept of time so by 9:15 this morning he was already yelling down asking if it was lunch time yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only hope this is a one time thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6156578691140660426?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6156578691140660426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6156578691140660426&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6156578691140660426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6156578691140660426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/01/dreaded-phone-call.html' title='The dreaded phone call.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4407140471615634842</id><published>2011-01-19T15:06:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T15:14:28.907-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Soccer time.</title><content type='html'>Well it is official, Zack and I went and plunked down the money today for him to join the Spring Soccer league with the local parks and rec.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was super excited and asked the guy when he gets to play and what time does it start. lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has not been on any teams for any sport in the past so this is bound to be funny.&lt;br /&gt;I have no expectations on how well he will perform but I do want him to just go out and have fun. I am kind of hoping it teaches him good sportsmanship but at 4 years old I do not think he would fully understand that yet anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure when it starts I will be posting pictures so be on the lookout for them in a few weeks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4407140471615634842?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4407140471615634842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4407140471615634842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4407140471615634842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4407140471615634842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/01/soccer-time.html' title='Soccer time.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6816404330850366890</id><published>2011-01-18T08:09:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T08:28:02.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Todays Gripe.</title><content type='html'>Warmer weather where are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am already over the cold winter weather we have had so far this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am already over the ice that covers my walkway forcing me to take baby steps to try to get to my truck without falling and breaking a part of my body which has never been broken before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am already tired of my driveway being a sheet of ice that forces me to to take tactical maneuvers to get my truck in and out of the driveway without taking out someone else's vehicle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am already over the 5 am wake up calls from the school saying school is either closed for the day or will be delayed by  hours. For crying out loud we are forced to miss half of spring break  (good thing we do not have any vacation planned) and the make up days have now spilled into summer break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please Mother Nature could you at least turn up the heat a bit. Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6816404330850366890?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6816404330850366890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6816404330850366890&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6816404330850366890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6816404330850366890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/01/todays-gripe.html' title='Todays Gripe.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2331747380830533579</id><published>2011-01-12T14:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T14:49:07.359-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Word recognition...</title><content type='html'>Before I forget I wanted to post this because I thought it was so funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see we do not swear in front of Zack, he is a little mocking bird so we keep the language in check for fear of going out in public with a potty mouth child ; )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was irritated over something and I said something with the word ASS. About ten minutes later my darling child who is sitting at the kitchen table playing so nicely with his Play-Doh says "Hey mom you know what?" So of course I respond with a "What Zack." Then my innocent, smiley faced child looks me straight in the eyes and says "Did you know that ASS is another word for BUTT?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you say &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;BUSTED&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had to politely tell him never to say the word again because it was not an appropriate word for little boys to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Note to self: little ears hear everything no matter how far away you think they may be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2331747380830533579?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2331747380830533579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2331747380830533579&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2331747380830533579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2331747380830533579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2011/01/word-recognition.html' title='Word recognition...'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6445962576118536064</id><published>2010-12-31T23:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T23:08:07.208-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year</title><content type='html'>I have so much to say but no desire to sit here and write so sometime within the next week I hope to get a few posts in.&lt;br /&gt;For now I will just say I wish you a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:180%;" &gt;Happy New Year&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6445962576118536064?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6445962576118536064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6445962576118536064&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6445962576118536064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6445962576118536064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-year.html' title='New Year'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6403648920534531900</id><published>2010-12-24T20:56:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-24T21:03:59.383-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We wish you a very &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;Merry Christmas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TRVP1QPOKpI/AAAAAAAAAa0/-sZvQFyGp6U/s1600/232323232%25257Ffp53379%2529nu%253D3264%252926%2B%2529%2B95%2529WSNRCG%253D35%2B768%2B4%2528%2B32%2Bnu0mrj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TRVP1QPOKpI/AAAAAAAAAa0/-sZvQFyGp6U/s320/232323232%25257Ffp53379%2529nu%253D3264%252926%2B%2529%2B95%2529WSNRCG%253D35%2B768%2B4%2528%2B32%2Bnu0mrj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554433491741846162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/7244646313950916140-6403648920534531900?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6403648920534531900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6403648920534531900&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6403648920534531900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6403648920534531900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TRVP1QPOKpI/AAAAAAAAAa0/-sZvQFyGp6U/s72-c/232323232%25257Ffp53379%2529nu%253D3264%252926%2B%2529%2B95%2529WSNRCG%253D35%2B768%2B4%2528%2B32%2Bnu0mrj.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5649334653798655628</id><published>2010-12-23T02:06:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T02:19:44.168-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Charity.</title><content type='html'>Just a very quick post tonight to say I think I am doing something right with my son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today Zack was in his room 'counting' out his pennies from his piggy bank. I was trying to get some stuff done when all of sudden he appeared with his fire hat in his hands. I asked what he had in his hat. He said "Mommy I want to give some money to the boys and girls that don't have enough."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh be still my heart. I love this child of mine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is always asking to put money in the red buckets when we are out and about. This morning when we were out he asked for some money to put in the red bucket but when we arrived at the store that usually has a red bucket outside there was no-one there. He was disappointed to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year we donated a few toys to some families in need and he was happy to be helping Santa make some boys and girls have a better Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only hope he continues to find love in his heart throughout his lifetime and help other people whenever he can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5649334653798655628?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5649334653798655628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5649334653798655628&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5649334653798655628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5649334653798655628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/12/charity.html' title='Charity.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-1295882382692155222</id><published>2010-12-11T18:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T18:38:54.062-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast with Santa Claus</title><content type='html'>The school Zack attends was hosting a breakfast with Santa Claus this morning. I had previously purchased our tickets so when we arrived all I had to do was tell them his name to get the tickets, I hate having to deal with hungry kids waiting for their food so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-ordering is the way to go for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was pleasantly surprised with the meal, it was pastries, bagels, fruits, yogurt and drinks. We gathered our meal and sat down to eat. One of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Zacks&lt;/span&gt; classmates came running over to say hello. Once we finished our meals we waited in line to sit with and speak to the jolly old one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was our turn, Zack went right up there and was just chatting away with. I took a few pictures which I will post later on. Once Zack was done, Indigo had her turn. She was obviously talking so low as if whispering because the jolly old one practically had to put his ear to her face just to hear her. I took a few pictures of her, then Zack jumped back over so I could get a picture of both kids with Santa Claus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were leaving I asked Zack what he asked Santa for. He told me he asked for a Pillow Pet, a toy story movie thing (some view master/book thing he saw in the bookstore) and a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; system. Lord knows I hate to disappoint the kiddo but a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; is a bit out the question this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I asked Indigo what she asked Santa for, she was a bit less specific. Her response "Toys." I started to laugh, she just wants it all! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we left there Kris and Zack dropped me off at home while they went to their 'construction class' at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Lowes&lt;/span&gt; Hardware. This is the second one they have attended and Zack loves building whatever they are building that day. He was so proud of his project today he couldn't wait to show me when he walked in the door. I was told to close my eyes because he had a surprise to show me. When I was allowed to open my eyes again I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;greeted&lt;/span&gt; with such a huge smile. It was so sweet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-1295882382692155222?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/1295882382692155222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=1295882382692155222&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1295882382692155222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/1295882382692155222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/12/breakfast-with-santa-claus.html' title='Breakfast with Santa Claus'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-4336625579291628769</id><published>2010-12-09T08:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T08:59:37.492-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stumping Dad.</title><content type='html'>I have been recording some of the Christmas shows and movies on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DVR&lt;/span&gt; for Zack to watch at a time that is more convenient for us. Well last night him and I sat down and watched one of the movies that he has never seen before. He was quiet through the whole movie which is a rare thing for this kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning he told Kris that we watched the cereal guys movie. Zack has never had the cereal but he has seen the commercial for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course Kris was stumped. He had a puzzled look on his face and questioned if it was 'The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Krispie&lt;/span&gt; guys'?  A minute or two later Zack gave it away by telling Kris that Fred and Barney was in it and they lived in a rock house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes we watched the Flintstones Christmas. He enjoyed it so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why did they ever take that show off the air? It was one of my favorites as a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the subject of old cartoons, Zack has now watched the Flintstones, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Jetsons&lt;/span&gt;, Tom and Jerry, and Daffy Duck. He likes them a lot. So it just tells me the older cartoons that I watched as a child are just as good now as they were then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-4336625579291628769?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/4336625579291628769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=4336625579291628769&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4336625579291628769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/4336625579291628769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/12/stumping-dad.html' title='Stumping Dad.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-2735082779963574199</id><published>2010-12-04T22:04:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T11:59:48.931-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Two hours late.</title><content type='html'>Does it make me a bad mom that I let my four year old stay up last night two full hours after his bed time just so he could be awake when his father came home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it make me a bad mom that I let my four year old stay up last night two full hours after his bed time just so he could bombard his father with pre-made snow balls when he got out of his car?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it make me a bad mom that I let my four year old stay up last night two full hours after his bed time just so he could have a good snow ball fight in the dark with his dad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it make me a bad mom that I let my four year old stay up last night two full hours after his bed time just so I could hear him giggle with delight while many other kids in the neighborhood were sound asleep in their beds?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it make me a bad mom? According to my son, and I quote, "Mom you are the best Mom EVER."&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvDLoS4tjI/AAAAAAAAAak/XRanwERHZ9k/s1600/IMG_4575.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvDLoS4tjI/AAAAAAAAAak/XRanwERHZ9k/s320/IMG_4575.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547241970599507506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it, my heart melted before the snow did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*BTW I have learned here that the snow can be here on minute, once you turn around it has melted so I wanted to make sure he had his chance to get in a snowball fight with his daddy. You just never know if the snow will still be here in the morning.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvDyqi5f3I/AAAAAAAAAas/8opV4JRZ4VQ/s1600/IMG_4577.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvDyqi5f3I/AAAAAAAAAas/8opV4JRZ4VQ/s320/IMG_4577.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547242641218436978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*Yes, he is in his pajamas and he does not have his boots on either. The original plan was to stay on the porch and throw the snowballs that we had already piled... it did not work out that way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-2735082779963574199?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/2735082779963574199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=2735082779963574199&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2735082779963574199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/2735082779963574199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/12/two-hours-late.html' title='Two hours late.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvDLoS4tjI/AAAAAAAAAak/XRanwERHZ9k/s72-c/IMG_4575.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-8265947160920314447</id><published>2010-12-04T19:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T11:48:26.779-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother Nature</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvBiGUDTvI/AAAAAAAAAaU/mxrz4ZaTr3o/s1600/IMG_4533.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvBiGUDTvI/AAAAAAAAAaU/mxrz4ZaTr3o/s320/IMG_4533.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547240157591326450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mother Nature&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you on behalf of my four year old little man. The joy you brought to his face today when he saw those first snow flakes was absolutely wonderful. The smile you brought to his lips when he was trying to catch a snow flake on his tongue was beautiful. The laughter you brought out from his belly was hardy and infectious when he hit me in the head with a snow ball. Thank you Mother Nature for creating snow for my little man to enjoy to the fullest extent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zack's Mom.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvCLTmk8aI/AAAAAAAAAac/9Z2zPMV1Eac/s1600/IMG_4554.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvCLTmk8aI/AAAAAAAAAac/9Z2zPMV1Eac/s320/IMG_4554.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547240865533325730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-8265947160920314447?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/8265947160920314447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=8265947160920314447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8265947160920314447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/8265947160920314447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/12/mother-nature.html' title='Mother Nature'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_stNZujOWIKg/TPvBiGUDTvI/AAAAAAAAAaU/mxrz4ZaTr3o/s72-c/IMG_4533.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-5333223466947504610</id><published>2010-11-30T16:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T16:39:21.594-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Headache central</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;The ride home from school more often than not brings on conversations like this one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, Miss P had to get some medicine from Miss C today."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;"Really, sounds like you kids may have been giving her a headache."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"On no Mommy that is not true."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few seconds later the real truth comes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"Well maybe we were."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nineteen four year olds, one room, six hours would make me have a headache too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-5333223466947504610?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/5333223466947504610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=5333223466947504610&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5333223466947504610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/5333223466947504610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/11/headache-central.html' title='Headache central'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7244646313950916140.post-6309470424767036956</id><published>2010-11-29T15:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-29T15:19:34.858-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Robot Zack reporting for class.</title><content type='html'>Zack has been bugging Kris lately about wanting to build a robot. Of course we have no idea where the idea came from or even what kind of robot he wants to build. All we can tell you is several times we have gotten a talking to about taking him to Lowes or Home Depot to buy the stuff to build a robot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today on the ride home from school he brought it up again. Only this time he let it be known that he wanted to build a robot so he didn't have to go to school. I asked him how building a robot was going to make it so he did not have to go to school. He said he wanted to build it and take it to school. Alright I will admit it, I just was not getting what he was trying to tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him again how was building a robot going to keep him from going to school. I asked if the robot was going to lock the doors to his school so no-one could get in. He rolled his eyes at me and said "No Mom a robot won't lock the doors to the school or anything like that, I could just build him and take him to school and I can leave him there when I stay home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously the kid is four! Where does a four year old get the idea to build a robot to replace him at school so he could stay home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...And on that note, I will tell you that I am afraid already of his teenage years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7244646313950916140-6309470424767036956?l=memoriesforleah.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/feeds/6309470424767036956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7244646313950916140&amp;postID=6309470424767036956&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6309470424767036956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7244646313950916140/posts/default/6309470424767036956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://memoriesforleah.blogspot.com/2010/11/robot-zack-reporting-for-class.html' title='Robot Zack reporting for class.'/><author><name>Leah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16168735860376062730</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_stNZujOWIKg/SI9pIkzhpdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/QkkHJX41dg4/S220/DSC00482.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
