tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81183381984151643952024-03-13T02:34:52.728-07:00Adam and BritneyAdam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-55048317947861433742011-05-08T16:12:00.000-07:002011-05-08T16:15:06.923-07:00We've Moved!<script>
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey, everyone! Adam, Jude, and I have moved to a new blog designed by my gorgeous husband. It's called "A Private Tour." Feel free to mosey on over and follow us!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://aprivatetour.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ea9999;">GO HERE</span></a></span></span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-60139010007087813832011-05-04T11:39:00.000-07:002011-05-04T11:39:36.698-07:00The Rents<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">K so per request I posted some pictures of Adam and I as babies. Who does Jude look like the most? </span><script>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Xv6RUeQw0Bb4-sKamu8hVxS6GNt9wZacs3YYygwpojeC5zu232HYDrg5CG3pnwoeku0earmUA20w8dZ2mIEXX7ksNAyGRAzJlzS6Yty5tbaRoCRR5O9qf9rwP0rbUyaqeJ1AZra0Rq6g/s1600/n811773362_938821_7487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Xv6RUeQw0Bb4-sKamu8hVxS6GNt9wZacs3YYygwpojeC5zu232HYDrg5CG3pnwoeku0earmUA20w8dZ2mIEXX7ksNAyGRAzJlzS6Yty5tbaRoCRR5O9qf9rwP0rbUyaqeJ1AZra0Rq6g/s400/n811773362_938821_7487.jpg" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Adam</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGH4K2McJ-kJFyiIgl2lDpaEu7kffYDhGB6ZpUGEh71gG1or-BdVHs9m69-fwiylfYqkpeqSkrM0cPfn6qmh_Q-37c2T_SPS4G-AV_8DVulFeTGB0V-t90XfJb0fptUdokopVh7tptjcl/s1600/220344_1982079479568_1470630063_2267834_4149298_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGH4K2McJ-kJFyiIgl2lDpaEu7kffYDhGB6ZpUGEh71gG1or-BdVHs9m69-fwiylfYqkpeqSkrM0cPfn6qmh_Q-37c2T_SPS4G-AV_8DVulFeTGB0V-t90XfJb0fptUdokopVh7tptjcl/s400/220344_1982079479568_1470630063_2267834_4149298_o.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Britney</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFtcB6XMrlbySCVbm5Sb06H5BXQZvmTSzDPR8tdmm4ySt4BHWgb59gWwd3C2C5x5kKCtfRMoJogrRrUMPW1IZKbbV_a1RL4XdaMIFGIImCCzgV3XvG6equgGkkx6_sI0-xIOqARfhMJ7h/s1600/223429_1980816167986_1470630063_2266592_5988919_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFtcB6XMrlbySCVbm5Sb06H5BXQZvmTSzDPR8tdmm4ySt4BHWgb59gWwd3C2C5x5kKCtfRMoJogrRrUMPW1IZKbbV_a1RL4XdaMIFGIImCCzgV3XvG6equgGkkx6_sI0-xIOqARfhMJ7h/s320/223429_1980816167986_1470630063_2266592_5988919_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Jude<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">Maybe not the best picture of Jude, meaning the most accurate, but what do you think?</div></span></td></tr>
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</span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-55765774706011247042011-05-03T22:40:00.000-07:002011-05-03T22:47:24.462-07:00Smiling Man<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jude and I have become pretty great buddies. The first weeks of our relationship have been a lot of one-way affection. I was doing all the smiling, kissing, and laughing for the both of us--though I can't discount his cuddling contribution, because he's pretty giving in that department. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But that all changed last week when he started smiling. He first did it last Wednesday. That day was kind of a bad day for Jude--basically a bad case of cranky pantsness. Feeling somewhat guilty, I grew tired of my child, sat him down on his boppy on my lap and daydreamed off into the distance while he squeaked and growled at me. When I finally came back to reality I looked down at my young child beaming up at me with the biggest gummy smile ever, as if to say, "Sorry, Mom, I feel better now. And you're the best." Q heart melting. </span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">LOVE him. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been trying ever since to get a video of him smiling. AND HERE IT IS. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">p.s. It takes a little while. And don't make fun of me for sounding like a moron. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the end is gross. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You might as well just watch the whole thing.</span></div></div><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/elV770dhA10?fs=1" width="480"></iframe><br />
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</script>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-90938554271991952412011-04-26T12:42:00.000-07:002011-04-26T12:42:10.866-07:00Unhealthy Healthy Obsessions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just a note:</span><script>
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have an unhealthy relationship with this:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadXbLvFXiIyOJgn36GxmfYxlAZXPgUNyFoDcbavqu3C4d4NCs8SG4z8SOdKqHLY8JFsoJkYINhzxAV5Y1lMIHbwFag15tA-SdajJukJ3T3zc1rXlTqaUEBuIvnDzHilky6CHuXW6Vu67p/s1600/daisy-cottage-cheese.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadXbLvFXiIyOJgn36GxmfYxlAZXPgUNyFoDcbavqu3C4d4NCs8SG4z8SOdKqHLY8JFsoJkYINhzxAV5Y1lMIHbwFag15tA-SdajJukJ3T3zc1rXlTqaUEBuIvnDzHilky6CHuXW6Vu67p/s400/daisy-cottage-cheese.gif" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And this:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvvIOkgAKBd__U7pG54QY8nlPmTQsr6TEqOa2Uh50V2tI2e54uZSXz3vJ7TDDBQuWiAf_b1B-8hggQw_EuuCaaci8p1-CZFp_wHnduvBltYMvciPBhy2EOaysoL7MgBWSotsIzh2DUAlq/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvvIOkgAKBd__U7pG54QY8nlPmTQsr6TEqOa2Uh50V2tI2e54uZSXz3vJ7TDDBQuWiAf_b1B-8hggQw_EuuCaaci8p1-CZFp_wHnduvBltYMvciPBhy2EOaysoL7MgBWSotsIzh2DUAlq/s400/images.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cottage cheese? At 80-100 calories per half cup, 2.5 grams of fat and 10 grams of protein? I eat this too much. I'm actually eating it right now...out of the container...like a fat kid--except my point is that it helps you to not be a fat kid. p.s. searching Google images for "cottage cheese" came up with some nasty pics of cellulite...I almost had to put my spoon down. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fage yogurt? 170 calories and 13 g protein. K..not just plain. That's gross. It's like eating sour cream. It actually is sour cream..technically. You have to get the kind with the little pocket of fruit stuff. And I love it because they offer you a sugarless yogurt to add as much or as little fruit blend as you want. Nothing grosses me out more than the typical yogurt packs. They're like little containers of sugar with a splash of curdled milk. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A food post? Yeah. I'm trying to not look pregnant anymore. Protein is my bff right now. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-46508871854134279062011-04-19T23:51:00.000-07:002011-04-19T23:57:42.986-07:00White Trash<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I was a bad Mom. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't like grocery shopping. And I especially don't like doing it alone. While at school, Adam and I used to look forward to our monthly grocery shopping trips together. Again, not because we liked doing it, because we hated it, but coming home and unpacking bags of groceries was like opening presents on Christmas morning. Stocking up our empty shelves and refrigerator was the best feeling. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't want to go alone tonight. My smart husband suggested that I just go alone while he stay home with our infant son. I said, no, I'll feed him before we go, throw him in the car-seat, and he'll sleep the whole time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was wrong.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He got fussy in the produce section. Which is the first section. So, after repeated fussing and one red-faced baby later, Adam decided the little dude needed to be cuddled. Which meant taking him out of his carseat. So he did. Oh, and did I mention we grocery shop at Super Walmart?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here we were. New parents. Carrying a 3 week old baby in arm. Uncovered. Exposed. At Walmart. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Walmart. </b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And here's the kicker: He got hungry. Of <i>course</i> he got hungry. So what did we do? Mixed a bottle of formula in the bread aisle and stuck it in the kid's mouth as fellow customers squeezed by. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then what happened?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lover boy decided it might be best to find a rocking chair on display to feed our poor child on--all the while people walked by, oohing and ahhing at the small infant.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, normal people would have judged us for being so thoughtless/negligent/selfish. "What kind of morons would take a newborn baby out in the public like that? I mean the poor dear is basically sterile." We would've left having been given numberless stink eyes and head shakes of disapproval. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But people at Walmart aren't normal.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So they actually did the opposite. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It would've made me feel better if everyone had judged us. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Welcome to the world, Jude Bug. Your parents officially suck. </span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-9127953977075623632011-04-13T19:42:00.000-07:002011-04-13T19:42:25.612-07:00Work It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKDt2uyR5AhqI89JBeKSENJLNQc6CUOhJ_lt0HnOMnZBHZlUa7ERexSwAO503_LNwRQwvL15WpODgjSe3MA6xEI7jv4tRSLd1pJ81kiZIj6ghnXv1quThNMZXhxQLW2f2Ru5OxGy05e0va/s1600/19_effected.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKDt2uyR5AhqI89JBeKSENJLNQc6CUOhJ_lt0HnOMnZBHZlUa7ERexSwAO503_LNwRQwvL15WpODgjSe3MA6xEI7jv4tRSLd1pJ81kiZIj6ghnXv1quThNMZXhxQLW2f2Ru5OxGy05e0va/s640/19_effected.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div><br />
</div>I was going through my documents on my desktop and discovered this picture from back when I did a <a href="http://adamandbritneystevens.blogspot.com/2010/08/myra-shoot-preview.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">photo shoot </span></a>with Myra Kjer. I love it. I love it because I loved that day. Myra's work is so vintage-inspired and in the middle of nowhere in Idaho, in a shack that could have very well been inhabited by wild animals, quite possibly bears--I'm deathly afraid of bears--, I felt like a French model from 1965. And although I also felt pretentious and mildly silly, Myra's passion and excitement made that day one that I look back on with immense fondness. That day I was temporarily liberated from dowdy-dirty nursing student, and transformed into girly, flirty, and fabulous "model." It was acting, and are we really ever too old to pretend and play dress up? I recommend it to all. Ladies, we should all feel gorgeous, fabulous, and desirable--daily. But more often than not we need an experience to force us to feel so. <script>
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<div><b>Challenge of the week?</b></div><div>1. Put together a creative ensemble you wouldn't dare walk out the door in--the kind where you throw on your highest heals and most insane prints.</div><div>2. Grab your husband, girlfriend, or just your camera timer. </div><div>3. Doll yourself up. </div><div>4. Take some random glamour shots.</div><div>Cheesy? Narcissistic? 14 year-old-ish? </div><div>Probably. Unfortunately probably. </div><div>But who cares. </div><div>Ten years from now no one will look at those pictures and think..."Wow she was full of herself." They'll think..."Wow, she looked fantastic!"</div><div><br />
</div><div>Hone your inner diva and never be afraid to work it. </div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-48998115228017318442011-04-07T12:16:00.000-07:002011-04-07T20:24:08.070-07:00Eat Your Heart Out<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's about time I posted about the new man in my life, right? I mean, he is 2 WEEKS OLD tomorrow.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, my little man is here. And holy cow do I just love him. </span><script>
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We went in to get induced on Friday the 25th because he had become just a little too comfortable in there and we were getting antsy. After 9 hours of labor, 30 minutes of pushing, and a couple of scary complications, we ended up having to go in for an emergency c-section due to a dropping heart rate. So, at 8:12PM that Friday our little Jude screamed his way out of the womb after discovering that the cord had been wrapped around his neck once. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Due to feeling pain during the last part of the procedure, the anesthesiologist had just loaded me up with a bunch of drugs right before he was born, so I was super loopy and tired when we first met. Otherwise, I remember everything clearly. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He weighed 7 lbs. 13 oz. and was 20.5 inches long. He has my ears, Adam's chin and lips, and lots and lots of hair. His "do" kind of resembles an Asian mullet: long, sharp side burns, short, spiky hair at the crown, and long on the neck. It's adorable. He also has little monkey feet and insanely long fingers and arms--and those arms just love to wrap themselves around you. Personality-wise he is a super chill kid. He has a very mild temperament, is very aware, quick to tell you what he wants and very easy to please. We just can't get enough of him. Grandma calls him her "AP" baby because he has developed so much over this short week she's been here. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Jude's current interests include: </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tummy time--the pediatrician was so surprised that from birth he could lift his head up on his own.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Snuggling--he has to sleep grabbing onto something, which is usually your shirt collar or chest. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meal time--he is my kid. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Baths--the kid LOVES these! He could be starving, but once you plop his naked bum into some warm water he goes right to sleep. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Smiling and laughing in his sleep--he especially does this when you stroke his hair. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pooping--he poos like a champ...super loud and super often...sometimes so much that he startles himself. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sleeping--whatever, he sleeps a lot. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Daddy--Jude loves Adam. He follows his voice around the house and stares intently into his eyes. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His hands--he discovered his hands from the beginning and uses them to hold his bottle, claw at Mommy, cover his face while sleeping, and fold during prayers. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His car seat--I'm considering letting him sleep in it at night.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">12:00-2:00AM--I swear he naps all day just so he can party at these wee hours of the night. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is the greatest little thing that has ever happened to us and we can't imagine our life together without him. I mean, how crazy is it that he grew from the tiniest little cell to a fully complex human being..all in 9 months? It's seriously ridiculous to think what kind of miracles go on in the human body during that time. DNA is legit stuff. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thinking about having kids? We fully endorse it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me? I'm feeling GREAT. The recovering has been super easy and I've had lots of help and support during it, and all the while I've become an excessively paranoid, worried, freaked out, and sleepless person. Do I check if he's breathing? Frequently. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eat your heart out on these. He's such a handsome baby. </span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwx6gKx2cNfnAtNNdhaxNpHw9W-KcvPHOErlY-LUsEKeTJMJx_H4rwLkp9KP4H33JhYP12MmLSVqgewE3VFca58n6_b7YWNxkJdgg_6R9aOjOexyeNKBIeV602a-lXzBBi0cKvEPsNKcCs/s1600/DSC02288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwx6gKx2cNfnAtNNdhaxNpHw9W-KcvPHOErlY-LUsEKeTJMJx_H4rwLkp9KP4H33JhYP12MmLSVqgewE3VFca58n6_b7YWNxkJdgg_6R9aOjOexyeNKBIeV602a-lXzBBi0cKvEPsNKcCs/s400/DSC02288.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bffs</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2lzP1y_TLwY7q8EQspGMi0DKNCTET73bm5XGCk6xl5aIjg6qtnuTfyRayjKbeYzzYypdUZYlTBnNfF7KrxiSjB9H4Ni5p2wtQNn4o7bYH9SQyyI_RdeO1v-os9YA8JJqMJAyW53S2UBn/s1600/DSC02322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2lzP1y_TLwY7q8EQspGMi0DKNCTET73bm5XGCk6xl5aIjg6qtnuTfyRayjKbeYzzYypdUZYlTBnNfF7KrxiSjB9H4Ni5p2wtQNn4o7bYH9SQyyI_RdeO1v-os9YA8JJqMJAyW53S2UBn/s400/DSC02322.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After his bath with Grandma and Aunt Briana.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDHXjFjJnG8r3kxBrCzIt0prIUL-HLPXNDFpLJ4C4Vh732sWBozouFTGIhT6V4_3-GxYA4QXXA1UqDYykgDvabU1IH5IPhqY49WKJ1cC2ExVodJ5Dn4cR5MzGFrN_N1YbXRUbxLD0l47C/s1600/DSC02343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDHXjFjJnG8r3kxBrCzIt0prIUL-HLPXNDFpLJ4C4Vh732sWBozouFTGIhT6V4_3-GxYA4QXXA1UqDYykgDvabU1IH5IPhqY49WKJ1cC2ExVodJ5Dn4cR5MzGFrN_N1YbXRUbxLD0l47C/s400/DSC02343.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's kind of a control freak about his food. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Ck68JsuMUDcpctEqKwa4fN5LmdL3m-HZXrhQOUTHEHLY3wdZNDW5PGTvvv5vaR5RYBQR_m6326r5eKeQB4FuIIDaSTRiFvCKFJ91gd83QNRIbGmDc2DUqP_DNO_GFO1zHdeZxuc6XT-t/s1600/DSC02330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Ck68JsuMUDcpctEqKwa4fN5LmdL3m-HZXrhQOUTHEHLY3wdZNDW5PGTvvv5vaR5RYBQR_m6326r5eKeQB4FuIIDaSTRiFvCKFJ91gd83QNRIbGmDc2DUqP_DNO_GFO1zHdeZxuc6XT-t/s400/DSC02330.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He just loves her.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJ1qbO80NMVPhLvi7GY8W24WkiS-TgGSCjzmxQDbhZRigNWI0q2ln_mKdLsAuIcHSmgozZcZyK8DKAsiV7EcGjjady18x0GMX8aFZ8pe3iOB63t4XzJGDHAa5xRR9ggJh4Emu2CYfmw_w/s1600/DSC02272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJ1qbO80NMVPhLvi7GY8W24WkiS-TgGSCjzmxQDbhZRigNWI0q2ln_mKdLsAuIcHSmgozZcZyK8DKAsiV7EcGjjady18x0GMX8aFZ8pe3iOB63t4XzJGDHAa5xRR9ggJh4Emu2CYfmw_w/s400/DSC02272.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our amazing nursing, Deb. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7gWxq0vzuebkJBmLSwkrcqr1QU2okNeAntiUmKuXFQBv3IhnXsls_VX-z75ywtjqONljljPInY3fPEjqccFW39O4JoAebCOIbO_SzsZan9blpuGM70YMGcVWqgJefhOaFf2lDTkpUgbd/s1600/DSC02291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7gWxq0vzuebkJBmLSwkrcqr1QU2okNeAntiUmKuXFQBv3IhnXsls_VX-z75ywtjqONljljPInY3fPEjqccFW39O4JoAebCOIbO_SzsZan9blpuGM70YMGcVWqgJefhOaFf2lDTkpUgbd/s400/DSC02291.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just woke up from a nap. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYq4901GA9woIVmfayDQU0ID_ZtTPAMj7yZY0tsrZ4VGZ4v4jK9by6T82nNqEsOh9yHkDr4z0svmf5L77MI4uc5lBm16Nlt8VCrsY89xg7nZsE794cTHp8HUWBQpLCYLyM17avVGnr_8a/s1600/DSC02223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYq4901GA9woIVmfayDQU0ID_ZtTPAMj7yZY0tsrZ4VGZ4v4jK9by6T82nNqEsOh9yHkDr4z0svmf5L77MI4uc5lBm16Nlt8VCrsY89xg7nZsE794cTHp8HUWBQpLCYLyM17avVGnr_8a/s400/DSC02223.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First picture as as family</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WS9YYtiLN5c1JHJOVcHF1W2RxVtcz76H-ZrG2ZYHdnGxI8eCJpNJi9Lrzly2YY-IhWEhAjGlMjdRUCoA9CmvSXHZMZN5RGxN-XjcfymBzwKhjor9YPzMD6GgCyKM47-ybR6USZoxvzQc/s1600/DSC02269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WS9YYtiLN5c1JHJOVcHF1W2RxVtcz76H-ZrG2ZYHdnGxI8eCJpNJi9Lrzly2YY-IhWEhAjGlMjdRUCoA9CmvSXHZMZN5RGxN-XjcfymBzwKhjor9YPzMD6GgCyKM47-ybR6USZoxvzQc/s400/DSC02269.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's a model already</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivn_x_jUgNn5XMbu3WOKBWp-KvUXnMmDqUoIoeiWApynijhXKPe0c59e0q1-QzFCMNoH6YRvXyjpky65KAUa3cSc-uEzmLG_J41EzOCszeq6WalCf4d_JeClwj5OIYvoltfqjXJT-fWFbW/s1600/DSC02289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivn_x_jUgNn5XMbu3WOKBWp-KvUXnMmDqUoIoeiWApynijhXKPe0c59e0q1-QzFCMNoH6YRvXyjpky65KAUa3cSc-uEzmLG_J41EzOCszeq6WalCf4d_JeClwj5OIYvoltfqjXJT-fWFbW/s400/DSC02289.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby dreams</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmxH4pzHbJATZWLh24ocCAJQj6z3AVwgXsxfK5qsn1mR0nhspHof_HW5oic2slcFUCZlZ07qmnGHsGEcwa6mrMPllA6shANEbYlnsmdW2_37xN0adHRWkD-qWbk57bJjnMXnTl8xARBrW/s1600/DSC02318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmxH4pzHbJATZWLh24ocCAJQj6z3AVwgXsxfK5qsn1mR0nhspHof_HW5oic2slcFUCZlZ07qmnGHsGEcwa6mrMPllA6shANEbYlnsmdW2_37xN0adHRWkD-qWbk57bJjnMXnTl8xARBrW/s400/DSC02318.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His first look at his extended family with his family picture book from Aunt Briana</td></tr>
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</span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-58730931720348690712011-03-18T17:03:00.000-07:002011-03-18T17:03:36.746-07:00Dress Dilemma<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My bff from high school is getting married this June--SO exciting--and she's asked me to come and be a bridesmaid for her special day. I AM STOKED. I've never been a bridesmaid before--basically because I'm the only one married in my family and this is my first friend to get married. Imagine that. </span><script>
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, it is going to be a beautiful, traditional Catholic wedding and Tara's picked out a simply classic dress for her maids to wear. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Only issue: it doesn't exactly cover my shoulders or back. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a Bill Levkoff and really speaks for itself and I'm super paranoid about taking away from the dress with any alterations. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All my (single?) ladies: we need to brainstorm. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not interested in jackets, cover-ups, or boleros--unless you can give me a killer idea for one. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is the one strap/trail of material that is attached in the back which is functional to use to cover me up. What do you think?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are a couple of ideas: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-Use the portion of the sash that hangs off the back to attach material under the strap to hopefully make it look like the dress was meant to look like that--basically attaching a chiffon top underneath the strap, as if I was wearing an under t-shirt. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-Cut off the strap entirely and attach some kind of sleeves. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's all I've got. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have any ideas? Would totally appreciate some input--even if it's just a pic. Actually pics are great. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's the dress--it's in the olive-ish color, but it's actually more of a gold in person: </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGrQl_-cflBPNzCBkKqc9g6kntIVY-TwnXxqNf4oWsaZfOQVGS7FmafI5YBrRXN6uT-sl7krMnHiSqDPbm4zSawP9Xpa9UiGutfl5zWWBMnYDqdn0yNHN8rtblCTWJSk8LWZxJSmOiSk9/s1600/675-6e5a3a8483821f1309-medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGrQl_-cflBPNzCBkKqc9g6kntIVY-TwnXxqNf4oWsaZfOQVGS7FmafI5YBrRXN6uT-sl7krMnHiSqDPbm4zSawP9Xpa9UiGutfl5zWWBMnYDqdn0yNHN8rtblCTWJSk8LWZxJSmOiSk9/s400/675-6e5a3a8483821f1309-medium.jpg" width="306" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQEqwrVYXvsVj0umM3qHa-7YbQGEE85hRlFdwdhDdf38hOM7zZ9M-ZJu6ycGBbYARiyx0ZklamPjQvhY5npB4qRrwnkks1mYNkpT-s77girkih7v9PEtOJ3FDHVnbkxs5c03Qg9nhCOYR/s1600/675-1+375x534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQEqwrVYXvsVj0umM3qHa-7YbQGEE85hRlFdwdhDdf38hOM7zZ9M-ZJu6ycGBbYARiyx0ZklamPjQvhY5npB4qRrwnkks1mYNkpT-s77girkih7v9PEtOJ3FDHVnbkxs5c03Qg9nhCOYR/s400/675-1+375x534.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-87852685128082757352011-03-15T23:42:00.000-07:002011-03-15T23:47:18.855-07:00The Last Date<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey Jude,</span><script>
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mom and dad went on a date tonight. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dad spent a little bit more than mom wanted to. He said we needed to go "all out" since this was my last night out...for awhile. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thanks love. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I made dad sit next to me during the meal. We talked about different things--mainly how dad should stop saying inappropriate things due to the couple immediately behind us. The last thing you want is a startling word like "nipple" floating around the air for just any old elderly persons' hearing aid to detect--someone could choke on their steamed vegetables. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a nutshell, we ate, dad bought a brand new belt, and we went grocery shopping. Other than that, t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">he food was good--better than good--great. We'll for sure be back again, which will probably mean that you'll be at home with a babysitter. Sorry kid--you've been the ultimate tagalong for over 9 months now: it's time your 'rents got some real alone time without the cute and annoyingly frequent, not to mention potentially disastrous, jab in the bladder every time our faces get close. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We love you. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Get your naked butt out here. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7wvIlLaGV0zYpqlAP4iZA34uV83WGsXfkNG6NjWrb_nW5xJosowBXnXYYTy1Sgr9BoJViygBfAHeC1s4QlDC5EaYpk4Sp-mvVUeviL_BhDH0jvUdvkV3RJidm-cM2nRBx3CVBc-1wztD/s1600/Photo+79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7wvIlLaGV0zYpqlAP4iZA34uV83WGsXfkNG6NjWrb_nW5xJosowBXnXYYTy1Sgr9BoJViygBfAHeC1s4QlDC5EaYpk4Sp-mvVUeviL_BhDH0jvUdvkV3RJidm-cM2nRBx3CVBc-1wztD/s400/Photo+79.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Don't laugh.</span></span></td></tr>
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</span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-81348546332157724062011-03-13T22:14:00.000-07:002011-03-13T22:14:52.374-07:00I'm Loved<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey Jude,</span><script>
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mom's been featured. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://dailydanieldish.blogspot.com/2011/03/why-i-love.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">HERE</span></a></span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-14992788804951428062011-03-12T23:05:00.000-08:002011-03-12T23:21:51.979-08:00Hey Jude<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hey Jude,</span><script>
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know you're having trouble deciding when you want to greet the world. It's scary, I get it. In the course of a week you've send mom and dad to the hospital twice with the anticipation that you'd made up your little man mind. Although frustrating and emotionally taxing, these little fake outs of yours have made the reality of your influence into our lives a little bit more clear and we have appreciated the opportunity to become a little bit more prepared. Hey, practice makes perfect, right? But please, please, don't wait until we are perfect. Also, daddy really can't keep using up his personal days. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So listen carefully:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a very cute and cozy-soft Ralph Lauren outfit waiting for you to snuggle up to mommy in. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You want it? You want it? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Come get it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Otherwise, I'll save it for your brother. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-71187637049332082362011-03-03T16:20:00.000-08:002011-03-03T17:49:19.810-08:00I Change My Mind<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First of all, no need to point out--or talk ruthlessly behind my back--about how horrible my blog layout is at the moment. There's a kink I'm trying to figure out, or getting husband to figure out, so until it's either fixed or I create a new blog site: don't judge me for being tacky. </span><script>
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Onward....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't help but dream about post-pregnancy body and post-pregnancy clothes. Last night I dreamt I had the little guy and I literally watched my stomach shrink back to it's original size. Dream Adam was looking over my shoulder going "yes!" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">p.s. Don't hate on me for wanting the little guy in my arms, not stretching out my skin. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I've stayed current with trends--not wearing, of course, just observing from the sideline (like the fat, uncoordinated kid), and awhile back I realized that one of my worst fears has become a reality. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The 70s are back</b>. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I <b>despise</b> 70s fashion. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aside from the occasional classic faux fur piece or high waisted trouser, I hate the 70s. I feel like it was such a goofy, awkward time for fashion. It was like everyone threw all their creative energy into the amazing 60s that there was nothing left afterward. The country basically gave up for a decade and fried their brains until burnt orange became a good idea. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BUT--And this is a huge <b>BUT</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">--the modern take that designers have created on 70s fashion today is so SOPHISTICATED IT KILLS ME. I think I'm kind of in love. Just kind of. It makes me want to pop out the kid, store up as much boob juice as possible, and diet hardcore so I don't have any added weight killing my feet when I buy a pair of sick 70s pumps--<i>Q rolling eyes and stink-eye stares</i>. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just humor me, even if you don't find me humorous. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rylKLzSbxc7P42oSGFgq0UxLo_ViyPZ3WE1v6FFvB9up_LaECbpk7jpOqqAsJPyUQ1fTLFzZlSbbZLJ6MqbNPMeZXXUFB6ZvO5EAL_baQkp2mjDWG0xD7Ib_uQ0MjH5pRCgN9IPWnxYK/s1600/elietahari2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rylKLzSbxc7P42oSGFgq0UxLo_ViyPZ3WE1v6FFvB9up_LaECbpk7jpOqqAsJPyUQ1fTLFzZlSbbZLJ6MqbNPMeZXXUFB6ZvO5EAL_baQkp2mjDWG0xD7Ib_uQ0MjH5pRCgN9IPWnxYK/s640/elietahari2.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSOeSlLkCAZZmv1eXaoUrW3_rrjfDNzVGgxH4J-xemC5yRzc6MHBsJUL042Fmy11Tr9yMfAOcH5WC0JPLHWBo0L0McoimSy35PtecpEDjMr6_zf8nu8lmGgnPul3dCBfEg0XqmoR3l0fe/s1600/100812freja70s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSOeSlLkCAZZmv1eXaoUrW3_rrjfDNzVGgxH4J-xemC5yRzc6MHBsJUL042Fmy11Tr9yMfAOcH5WC0JPLHWBo0L0McoimSy35PtecpEDjMr6_zf8nu8lmGgnPul3dCBfEg0XqmoR3l0fe/s1600/100812freja70s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSOeSlLkCAZZmv1eXaoUrW3_rrjfDNzVGgxH4J-xemC5yRzc6MHBsJUL042Fmy11Tr9yMfAOcH5WC0JPLHWBo0L0McoimSy35PtecpEDjMr6_zf8nu8lmGgnPul3dCBfEg0XqmoR3l0fe/s640/100812freja70s.jpg" width="465" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2DRc_SnaijpRiNVkWwc5sewownwfimuDBKh0v_KmMgKk19TkpJG-hVFR1uiO_DCHjdPXSX6GIOhk8D7KGsu1FupOmuZKpCY6d56rB-5A15mKkPhMu0_nUrEn_ZPsCecdlp91-gz4S92Z/s1600/ferragamo4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2DRc_SnaijpRiNVkWwc5sewownwfimuDBKh0v_KmMgKk19TkpJG-hVFR1uiO_DCHjdPXSX6GIOhk8D7KGsu1FupOmuZKpCY6d56rB-5A15mKkPhMu0_nUrEn_ZPsCecdlp91-gz4S92Z/s640/ferragamo4.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuucMF0kCwv-EQ0WPwxIyMXYzudOjOxb5vYWLOD86T1gYbfk5HESMB0Mts0IEJqE_-3moM2KZpCz6UzEe4KIhEcVi3n5CikO7OiISd_qtVjQxqwvYFZYw5fo4Xswcv3zbpXmuFPbQbZZlO/s1600/driesvannoten460sdresses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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</span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-28424624096373525972011-02-23T10:47:00.000-08:002011-02-23T10:49:35.884-08:00Now Please?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday I went to my OB appointment. I was excited and nervous--excited to see if there was any good news after being "checked", nervous because it's awkward..</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">my feet aren't the only things I haven't been able to see</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. I got doubly nervous when the doc asked me if his med student could come in and observe during the examine...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">sure, why not!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Trying not to get my hopes up, I anxiously looked at my OB for the verdict. He looked up with a big smile and said, "I've got good news! You're dilated to a 2 and 80% effaced. At this rate you could go to the hospital at a 4!" NO WAY!!! Then after saying something stupid like..let's hook me up to some Pitocin and get this going, he told me to hold tight and that I could go into labor any minute or go clear passed by due date. LAME, but still awesome. And of course when I called Adam he thought the news meant I was in labor--Q husband freak out--poor guy. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, thought you all deserved an update. Sorry if I made anyone feel uncomfortable. Get over it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">p.s. What do you predict? Will I go into labor within a week or so, or have to wait the full 3.5 weeks or later? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dJ2_VKYjTkjAm9lT6VdRRxUsOO7SlRkXBNCihNtYurZguh9WTyquKEZrOf-1W20763kwhBmNwHUKaEYF8AAbwCZlfPJWakydj0dUYG2yzydUsHDlUWcHxZIW9LE7UMfXRfWxu0KSUntR/s1600/april+fool+day+holiday+fools.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dJ2_VKYjTkjAm9lT6VdRRxUsOO7SlRkXBNCihNtYurZguh9WTyquKEZrOf-1W20763kwhBmNwHUKaEYF8AAbwCZlfPJWakydj0dUYG2yzydUsHDlUWcHxZIW9LE7UMfXRfWxu0KSUntR/s400/april+fool+day+holiday+fools.gif" width="300" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
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</span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-21996835621146880902011-02-07T18:03:00.000-08:002011-02-23T20:33:06.661-08:00I DID IT!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I PASSED THE NCLEX! I'm finally a Registered Nurse! I have this picture of me from preschool where my mom dressed me up like a nurse with my little white scrubs and cap and it makes me feel warm inside. It's just a little girl going to preschool realizing that her first steps toward reaching her goals were to first learn how to spell her name. Exciting right?!!</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Higz1dExdTq4a2AIsgaTsR6UBXwDdr7oPEe2LAdpHS_CX8jrMFzFw9HDQZ3ONTkBVv75Jw74XLxy-cHGd2Zo2S6MMJPHTL3kVljTHm3KzEdDs0MndsI2iRyUru0rQOB49-GB4HpS1kDa/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Higz1dExdTq4a2AIsgaTsR6UBXwDdr7oPEe2LAdpHS_CX8jrMFzFw9HDQZ3ONTkBVv75Jw74XLxy-cHGd2Zo2S6MMJPHTL3kVljTHm3KzEdDs0MndsI2iRyUru0rQOB49-GB4HpS1kDa/s640/Picture+1.png" width="640" /></a></div><script>
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</script>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-41208751771692239952011-01-31T23:21:00.000-08:002011-01-31T23:21:30.953-08:00Super SnackerTonight kind of went like this:<div>Dinner, FHE, workout, come home. </div><div>Around 9 o'clock the little guy decided he wanted a snack.</div><div>So I got hungry, naturally, and Adam just so happened to be in the kitchen. </div><div>My selection of night-time snack #1 went something like this:</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">Brit: Hey, hun. Would you bring me an apple?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">Adam: Yeah, sure. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">Brit: And the peanut butter jar with a knife?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">Brit: And the Nutella? </span></div><div><br />
</div><div>By the end of it, I had basically destroyed any nutritional value in that poor, poor piece of fruit. </div><div>But it was delicious. </div><div>Husband couldn't help but laugh over the massive cliche I was tragically committing. I might as well have balanced both jars on my belly and demanded Oreos to come join the party. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqtJonL-4LKTdAZlJCHtgOg2Uxk-FS_yMGutsSNiSO_s6ubUsM6FipwQ44ElfDjNT163IyR6MfO94UHDfmA_0yVn0KeJo5crdh0rhpWEq87UnILZX7899Mb7L_7DMZ0BsvOIm-GUrJtDQ/s1600/tmcn402l.jpg.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqtJonL-4LKTdAZlJCHtgOg2Uxk-FS_yMGutsSNiSO_s6ubUsM6FipwQ44ElfDjNT163IyR6MfO94UHDfmA_0yVn0KeJo5crdh0rhpWEq87UnILZX7899Mb7L_7DMZ0BsvOIm-GUrJtDQ/s400/tmcn402l.jpg.png" width="360" /></a></div><div><br />
</div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-85551665141567019582011-01-29T20:50:00.000-08:002011-01-29T20:50:51.296-08:00Little Man ClothesAm I a bad soon-to-be mom for planning on dressing my little boy like this?<script>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrC0uzH9WUGwY5iIAvFrjQAk7nuV1hN-rgbwVWVZFG_dCuDL-dj7SWnd73HQAaKd-5oZllKOD-ku3dMBpuHLp7PKzYkqUJDK3HeLD6cxiK1WfG8PstKqsVvCfQstfNH2YVCSAA2PoH8-66/s1600/kids_landing_08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrC0uzH9WUGwY5iIAvFrjQAk7nuV1hN-rgbwVWVZFG_dCuDL-dj7SWnd73HQAaKd-5oZllKOD-ku3dMBpuHLp7PKzYkqUJDK3HeLD6cxiK1WfG8PstKqsVvCfQstfNH2YVCSAA2PoH8-66/s400/kids_landing_08.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Or like this?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD26VgYN6UO7pSr4J4ARQZga3_sNdvRdXPojwAtUXJdQn6XwhNyobE5VYWQaJy0Go2rxZyiR9ajmhp9xaWiYRFexbuK2hB8vjEf2X4S0Lf7Me5g75vFpj94tTAQ2r1DZWrlTz4X3o83H7C/s1600/prod.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD26VgYN6UO7pSr4J4ARQZga3_sNdvRdXPojwAtUXJdQn6XwhNyobE5VYWQaJy0Go2rxZyiR9ajmhp9xaWiYRFexbuK2hB8vjEf2X4S0Lf7Me5g75vFpj94tTAQ2r1DZWrlTz4X3o83H7C/s400/prod.jpeg" width="376" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The correct answer is no. </span></td></tr>
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</div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-26444045442189990752011-01-28T11:00:00.000-08:002011-01-28T11:00:56.289-08:00Christmas and Belly<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I finally found our camera cord, so I can upload a couple of pics from Christmas and a 32 weeks belly shot. I must say, I seriously hate my face in pictures right now. I look like a red, shiny-faced German. Maybe next time I won't wear balloon pants for these things. Moving on...</span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmzazDgEVWVjGW2w3vhn6GxFo1FBy23xy2fkZyuKpDE5Kpd5F_RjKuVf3x7OMR3qoKhniDlljoe7DJUUoWq9wsZJdNIpB-1bDfjpQMw2AdABU-6KuN8Xe_0lr9FrVCjl7kW4hbEtnw-rk/s1600/DSC02085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmzazDgEVWVjGW2w3vhn6GxFo1FBy23xy2fkZyuKpDE5Kpd5F_RjKuVf3x7OMR3qoKhniDlljoe7DJUUoWq9wsZJdNIpB-1bDfjpQMw2AdABU-6KuN8Xe_0lr9FrVCjl7kW4hbEtnw-rk/s400/DSC02085.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just one of Mom's many healthy stocking stuffers. Who ever heard of such a thing...</span></span></div></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wIkKpGqfLek7XRrO3Vw_TsXpzY1ZN-_AOZaKojPPyXJ7_2sCbLA81oPRzQHcWqC6yiQh7jee9kfFgMTA93d7ov_UBCA6p-ND24HFRQU8aAsOzz34MtxF8IGzfvjPQEGObG3JQZzAYzzG/s1600/DSC02089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wIkKpGqfLek7XRrO3Vw_TsXpzY1ZN-_AOZaKojPPyXJ7_2sCbLA81oPRzQHcWqC6yiQh7jee9kfFgMTA93d7ov_UBCA6p-ND24HFRQU8aAsOzz34MtxF8IGzfvjPQEGObG3JQZzAYzzG/s400/DSC02089.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our yankee-swap pile at Grandma and Grandpa's. </span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFAYB_i2eWzy9mto5d6-NoFyUcpSN7QYg-LM3SKxn3AceGwfWktD-LbHe5UOnPByba6pzVIAmQXqKO8cQdHU6o2CQB9KHH-Y2ltK1LDMvM807GwioZISW1W-JO5RUePTzTWdbmiUSrOAU/s1600/DSC02102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFAYB_i2eWzy9mto5d6-NoFyUcpSN7QYg-LM3SKxn3AceGwfWktD-LbHe5UOnPByba6pzVIAmQXqKO8cQdHU6o2CQB9KHH-Y2ltK1LDMvM807GwioZISW1W-JO5RUePTzTWdbmiUSrOAU/s400/DSC02102.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Adam's first attempt. p.s. I didn't include too many pics of him because he had a sinus issue that whole day and his face was BEAT red. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxyKJROSJZbRtqZ_uYn5eX0UQvPqonkjYBveX70hgtlxAbx1UVYtL3wNFzMpo0mBzBUYkGmOK1GMGjYZo6bZJuI3_Dgd7pV2iPFInhgpfyKdGJS1kVuKpoZPB7omgZD_U5DcGXOM_KTIN/s1600/DSC02115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxyKJROSJZbRtqZ_uYn5eX0UQvPqonkjYBveX70hgtlxAbx1UVYtL3wNFzMpo0mBzBUYkGmOK1GMGjYZo6bZJuI3_Dgd7pV2iPFInhgpfyKdGJS1kVuKpoZPB7omgZD_U5DcGXOM_KTIN/s400/DSC02115.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">G-ma got Tae-Bo videos. Get kickin' lady. </span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWW51ibqQfElhW5LlwCSOj4Vs1fIqJfMWwsKz5b_I5evTNlNYsKihbzvZj6-doXBMZUJ2pBZnvAtVtRUmLjUA3sdHrywt5nwRDB3u12I6h66ASbQP_Aydl8bMq0bxlOIUY-fiia-vaVrsV/s1600/DSC02116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWW51ibqQfElhW5LlwCSOj4Vs1fIqJfMWwsKz5b_I5evTNlNYsKihbzvZj6-doXBMZUJ2pBZnvAtVtRUmLjUA3sdHrywt5nwRDB3u12I6h66ASbQP_Aydl8bMq0bxlOIUY-fiia-vaVrsV/s400/DSC02116.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I got an electric tea kettle/water boiler. AWESOME. </span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvsjNFQEmCgYwY8mhAruI0AuVZV21e_PtfCUsrf4VDKlL85zInQQ9oufLIrqbUMZco147tJp06_fvcHG9jnUtpP7iLr_nwmfZMcwXd8v0r5d9By2dyQL6sFoEUGm9JJ4gq3w8VtuuJKtN/s1600/DSC02128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvsjNFQEmCgYwY8mhAruI0AuVZV21e_PtfCUsrf4VDKlL85zInQQ9oufLIrqbUMZco147tJp06_fvcHG9jnUtpP7iLr_nwmfZMcwXd8v0r5d9By2dyQL6sFoEUGm9JJ4gq3w8VtuuJKtN/s400/DSC02128.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">27 weeks! Next year the little guy will be there to celebrate with us. </span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLNhN3RxeH-qv6IOPYlt_ZPrUoYD5upPsgYZmB4R6fkQlbMbAUHGR9PtCbt6FhyphenhyphenQcj-ph8qOZkQyCc_T44rHHfNrzGs4NfSK_BDSOdLMdS_xuVmlrK_gwQZvpokfLIq3bmE8gg7fwylMf/s1600/DSC02122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDLNhN3RxeH-qv6IOPYlt_ZPrUoYD5upPsgYZmB4R6fkQlbMbAUHGR9PtCbt6FhyphenhyphenQcj-ph8qOZkQyCc_T44rHHfNrzGs4NfSK_BDSOdLMdS_xuVmlrK_gwQZvpokfLIq3bmE8gg7fwylMf/s400/DSC02122.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What a good looking group, right?</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjehXI68WQNvOrBUCcAeeKFZ67NxyckAdBsFVzZbMoYeXeRt1dPyo77lssRvD_FysYPKIqENseevb1bE0iQ_ZrTXkEIwb9fyaqUWEm2Up3CrLBmRn8ssSUQdAn4DfQQ8e5hPSaFXagpJle_/s1600/DSC02130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjehXI68WQNvOrBUCcAeeKFZ67NxyckAdBsFVzZbMoYeXeRt1dPyo77lssRvD_FysYPKIqENseevb1bE0iQ_ZrTXkEIwb9fyaqUWEm2Up3CrLBmRn8ssSUQdAn4DfQQ8e5hPSaFXagpJle_/s400/DSC02130.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The sisters minus one. </span></span></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD8sLNFYsqQU0kHz612Fh1Loq0RQXDtvQrxhRfGRfePSYpQHgxK4jBTAKGRE_8nTcAN43qNc5HP2lsimaej0To9DsiGBhSKI3VnxLmBJYKx5rqTwgcqapkfnTDi3EiTGviY8AW8VUCzoT/s1600/DSC02137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzD8sLNFYsqQU0kHz612Fh1Loq0RQXDtvQrxhRfGRfePSYpQHgxK4jBTAKGRE_8nTcAN43qNc5HP2lsimaej0To9DsiGBhSKI3VnxLmBJYKx5rqTwgcqapkfnTDi3EiTGviY8AW8VUCzoT/s400/DSC02137.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_gF18K_1ZyFu5yQB1Nz8Yhz2gFSYnB5Mdba3wR7a_5kwEdBZIOU3I_vQrh3FtdOeRxslRK-Y3JSuIdOAzZCqyA5zjuK4cETV6Fd3YG1XGQ7GmkZeku5-1j61V6uH8akF6TvQzVA-1C3Od/s1600/DSC02141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_gF18K_1ZyFu5yQB1Nz8Yhz2gFSYnB5Mdba3wR7a_5kwEdBZIOU3I_vQrh3FtdOeRxslRK-Y3JSuIdOAzZCqyA5zjuK4cETV6Fd3YG1XGQ7GmkZeku5-1j61V6uH8akF6TvQzVA-1C3Od/s400/DSC02141.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">New Christmas shoes. c/o Urban and H&M</span></span></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZdOWUMZBSghyphenhyphen9nhqmF46yQ3IuizM8OhAV8t67icsUvos-Y9vxh8BWqqvDJZEMwLzFgdtOnL9Zse4vSQ_8WFs4CubisRzvOP8O52BRgC9o73Ul9nCntdBFnRftUzSrGLSgstt3_93ofhC/s1600/DSC02160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZdOWUMZBSghyphenhyphen9nhqmF46yQ3IuizM8OhAV8t67icsUvos-Y9vxh8BWqqvDJZEMwLzFgdtOnL9Zse4vSQ_8WFs4CubisRzvOP8O52BRgC9o73Ul9nCntdBFnRftUzSrGLSgstt3_93ofhC/s400/DSC02160.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And there it is</span></span></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOLPURtvxFv3KFfOFsHICz53dhuotQqVDBNyrxnrGDv_ttpaMxdQz-Hv2PFOKUaOjOYQMNtXwsnjF9qYA07JydLkqF-XMFRUbgNvpQ3Z8WMX2EnpOgf5l9OG2_c13YmdBseIasEJdEXpoX/s1600/DSC02162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOLPURtvxFv3KFfOFsHICz53dhuotQqVDBNyrxnrGDv_ttpaMxdQz-Hv2PFOKUaOjOYQMNtXwsnjF9qYA07JydLkqF-XMFRUbgNvpQ3Z8WMX2EnpOgf5l9OG2_c13YmdBseIasEJdEXpoX/s400/DSC02162.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHeTAn9en0f1G-R4eVhPkMxPikBmOMl2cDmY2AzfuBW5teFUTSYAZsUksLfwSkTrF3ceE0yh-2qKEIm_dQ5Rqajdy4Sj0sULleIVAblAfrT0VGP9mqtVJ2GVwKKr8OGx2EuCqn1Q_394a/s1600/DSC02167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHeTAn9en0f1G-R4eVhPkMxPikBmOMl2cDmY2AzfuBW5teFUTSYAZsUksLfwSkTrF3ceE0yh-2qKEIm_dQ5Rqajdy4Sj0sULleIVAblAfrT0VGP9mqtVJ2GVwKKr8OGx2EuCqn1Q_394a/s400/DSC02167.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Adam thought this was clever. </span><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And there ya have it! 33 weeks on Monday! Maybe he'll come early and then I'll only have 5 weeks left. Holy cow that'd be awesome! </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile, Adam's working and I'm studying still preparing for the NCLEX. Our days couldn't be more predictable. </span></div></span></td></tr>
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</span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-15088135799262129542011-01-26T13:55:00.000-08:002011-01-26T13:55:38.251-08:00Gush<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Do you remember your first date with your significant other? I do. Absolutely. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was in the middle of my second semester of school and currently "seeing" a guy who, well, I basically couldn't muster up the feelings to exclusively date (think about 500 Days of Summer and you'll know exactly what happened), and needed to get away from. So I asked out this guy named Adam. I had met him the previous semester, as we had the same little circle of friends, but he showed no interest in me and my freshman face. In my previously-mentioned desperation to get away from this other guy for just a freaking second, I asked Adam out for a Friday night school show. He told me he couldn't, but we'd go out the next day with a big group of people to this big school event. As if I was an idiot and didn't hear, "I really don't want to go out with you, but I'd feel bad if I totally ditched you. So we'll go out with a big group so I can avoid you the whole night, but still say I was a good guy and took you out." Please. What made it worse? The thing I invited him to go to that Friday night (you mean the thing he said you couldn't go to?), he ended up being at with a bunch of my other friends. I just thought, "Really? Do you really hate me that much??" But, as planned, we went to this thing the next day. Now you have to understand: I had never been dissed like that before. Not to say it's because who could possibly diss me right? It's just that I was pretty good at reading whether someone would go out with me for at least a first date or not. And man, I just was so freaking off this time. So I was intimidated. Basically, I had set myself up for a pity date and I had no idea of how to be the pitied. So, I got ready, thinking it didn't matter how cute I looked or how good I smelled, because this guy obviously thought that I was totally unattractive and un-dateable. He picked me up, and I really didn't say much of anything to him. Awkward. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But what happened?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, according to him, he thought I actually did look really good and that I actually did also smell really good and he felt actual attraction for me. Imagine that? So he flirted, touched, laughed, etc. I thought he must have been joking. Then at the end of the show, there was a random "dance" and he pulled me in real close during every slow-song, saying, "Let's take advantage of these slow songs." I kind of melted a little. Who was this ridiculously good looking man dancing so close and whispering sweet things in my ear?" Then he said something that took my breath away: "Yo quiero helado."--I want ice cream. So we went with another couple and picked out ice cream at the grocery store. For some reason, deciding on which ice cream to share with a guy who wanted to have nothing to do with you is kind of terrifying. We stood in front of that freezer door for what seemed like forever. All the while, leaning up against me, trying to get me to divulge to him what I actually liked. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I swear--anytime he touched me I lost all feeling my legs. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So after ice cream, he drove me home and walked me up the stairs to my door. I sheepishly hugged him goodbye and thanked him for the night. He said, "You know, we should hang out again." I said, "Really???" And he said, "Yeah, what are you doing tomorrow?" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">OMG. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He came over the next day and the next and the next and really quickly we went from "please get this date over with" to "please don't leave even though it's 1AM." </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I loved that boy from that day on and love him far more now than I did then. He is everything to me. </span></span></div></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes when I'm busy and preoccupied with other things I totally forget how gorgeous, romantic, and hilarious of a husband I have. He's my best friend and I would rather spend time with him than anyone, and miss him when I'm not. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last night in the middle of the night I woke up to him half-asleep--or maybe even totally asleep--stroking my face and putting his hand in my hair. At first I woke up like, "What the heck are you doing?" and then I thought it was cute that his subconscious didn't have his mind on video games, work, golf, or food, but his very preggo wife with matted hair and blood-shot eyes. This morning, he woke me up to kiss me goodbye, with his new prescription glasses, wearing a white v-neck t and jeans and a blue scarf. He looked like something from an H&M catalog. It was one of those, "You mean, I got to marry HIM???" moments and in my surprise, I grabbed that boy's face and kissed it real good. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And with him gone all day making the big bucks for our little family, I feel very grateful for him. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, let's take two seconds to GUSH about the sexy man in my life:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He's going to be the hot daddy of the other man in my life. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He's always the one to pull out the Oreos so I don't feel like a fatty for initiating a cookies and milk binge. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His hair is not only girl-approved hair, it's model-like and hard not to run my fingers through. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His tush is almost impossible not to squeeze. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The scar on his face makes him look like a bad-A. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He always asks for seconds of anything I make. Especially cookies. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He loves to surprise me and make everything special. He often turns to me and says things like, "Can we just wake up one morning this weekend and have a good breakfast together and snuggle in bed the rest of the day?" --ummmm: yes. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He pays attention to my pleas for romance and always one-ups me. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He doesn't criticize me when in coming home from work he finds me on the couch wearing the same clothes he left me in at 8AM. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He was touchy-feely from the start and hasn't slacked off one bit. My head fits perfectly on his chest and our hands match effortlessly when interlocked. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBFV3_zrG7KZwNnTxLn-sxwja6PM1q86Q1t-vloozKCQAG7BF5k_RmLX8jNP2QVmuETa-5nBwVVanOwt8nbMkJfaAJzWs5K4QFCh7Hs7sCaIxscLiqkI8D0lrhMdaT-WBSKyN-AHrHkR1/s1600/IMG00011-20110126-1242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBFV3_zrG7KZwNnTxLn-sxwja6PM1q86Q1t-vloozKCQAG7BF5k_RmLX8jNP2QVmuETa-5nBwVVanOwt8nbMkJfaAJzWs5K4QFCh7Hs7sCaIxscLiqkI8D0lrhMdaT-WBSKyN-AHrHkR1/s400/IMG00011-20110126-1242.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I just love him. And I can't wait till he comes home everyday because he still makes my heart race and my whole frame melt. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dang boy, I just wanna buy you things!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-28152630025115399752011-01-24T14:00:00.000-08:002011-01-24T14:00:47.053-08:00Compare Yourself<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bESn5DNGTtuP2_CTAXqjZ_z2dcZjrhk1Yl-apsYsI89s03guoLhRNe0WFmUSVenVPB3I0nDLeUZj3JIxbGMONp-QElx8qoatF6DYPBcg5-nd7GLQOLxSJt75tSbIgInQPbXd-gwDS7rh/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bESn5DNGTtuP2_CTAXqjZ_z2dcZjrhk1Yl-apsYsI89s03guoLhRNe0WFmUSVenVPB3I0nDLeUZj3JIxbGMONp-QElx8qoatF6DYPBcg5-nd7GLQOLxSJt75tSbIgInQPbXd-gwDS7rh/s640/2.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div>See that?</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That was me. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">18 years old, certain I'd go to medical school, caring only for field hockey, boys, and food. Lots of food. All the time. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I saw this picture today and longed to be back playing in that game, basking in that humid-hot sun, walking off the field bleeding and dirty... </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I remembered that I hated my senior year and couldn't wait to be out of there the entire year. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I love this picture.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was buff from powerlifting all summer, super tan from lifeguarding, in the best shape ever, co-captain of my team, had the biggest beater of a car, cared little about school, ran 3-5 miles every other day...blahblahblah. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Why am I bragging about this girl?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She for sure wouldn't be bragging about herself. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Because I'm jealous. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yet, at that time, her self-esteem was little to none. She hated that she weighed as much as most of her guy friends, the fact that the only clothing she was comfortable wearing were the sweatsuits her teams ordered each season, had an ugly car, couldn't keep a boyfriend for more than 2 weeks, and so on. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm sure that if that girl knew that her 4.5 year later self--married, graduated, and pregnant--would be jealous of her, she'd about piss herself. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Why am I jealous of her? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Because I'm incompletely comparing myself to her. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We women are harsh on ourselves, aren't we? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We compare our little "imperfections" to the qualities of others to determine if we measure up, if they're totally "better" than us, or if we're totally "better" than them. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But as far as I'm concerned, if we're going to put ourselves in the dangerous position of comparing ourselves to those around us, we'd better be pretty thorough in our comparing. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Why?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Because when we compare ourselves to others, we always compare that person's <b>best</b> to our <b>worst</b>. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And once we determine that their best is far better than our worst, we declare that they are better than us and we are only left to be jealous, while avoiding them entirely and punching a golfball-sized hole in our guts.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's silly, right?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Take this instance: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A woman spends hours and hours of a year finding the perfect recipe and perfect way to bake the perfect loaf of bread. After long days of sweating over a hot oven, throwing out thousands of failures, and crying in the corner, she finally does indeed perfect herself in the art. She feels excited, proud, and accomplished. So, she decides to share with her neighbors. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Susie next door receives one of these gorgeous loaves of golden brown bread, takes a bite, and realizes that perfect Molly's loaf tastes like something from a dream. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Susie immediately compares this lump of heaven to what she could bake for her family and realized that her own ability was limited to baking a flat, dense, grainy brick of wheat that ended up barely eaten and ultimately thrown in the trash. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What's more? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Susie's husband came home that night, took a slice of Molly's bread, and stated, "Wow hunny, Molly really knows what she's doing." </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Get the picture? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">How does Susie feel? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Like she could never measure up to Molly in not only bread making, but anything Molly endeavored to accomplish. To Susie, Molly was perfect, and Susie couldn't stand her. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But all the while the reason why Molly tried perfecting her loaf of bread was because she had tried for years and years to master chocolate chip cookies like Susie had, but accepted defeat and moved onto something else. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We are all silly, aren't we? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Next time, instead of comparing yourself to someone else's hard earned and practiced talents, fitness, belongings, etc., admire their ability to do so and your own personal ability to master other things that are equally admirable.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Kind of the typical Mormon-Mom example, but it works. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One of Satan's greatest tools is to have us accept our own defeat as a person, limiting our desire and belief in ourselves to progress and become better. He would love more than anything to have us pine away in a lonely corner about how wonderful Molly's bread is, how stupid we are for not being able to make it as good as she does, and totally forget how to bake chocolate chip cookies altogether. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That's lame. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div></div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-39048464295888318472011-01-19T21:05:00.000-08:002011-01-19T21:05:58.879-08:00HOT<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last night I went on a date with a man. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What was he wearing? </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh, how naughty of you to ask.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Penguin pajama pants and a black v-neck T. I know. Sexy. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I invited him over to my place after we worked out together at our apartment's fitness center. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We made homemade pizza and cuddled up on the couch with Oreos and milk and the second Lord of the Rings. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Every once in a while, in between spurts of black blood and wizard fights, he would whisper things in my ear like, "It's really cold in our apartment," "Did you check the mail today?" and "You're really cute." </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was a hot date. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He even stayed the night. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And he has a really cute tush.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm glad he's the father of my child. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-65291269722474458082011-01-14T12:25:00.000-08:002011-01-14T15:28:42.769-08:00May Photo Shoot<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have extremely talented friends. This particular friend,<a href="http://tiffanyrebeccablog.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> Tiffany Whitsitt</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> </span>(previously Christensen) is no exception. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">SHE IS AMAZING. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We did this shoot I believe last May. It was freezing and ridiculously windy, but her and all of her wonderfulness shot some of the best pictures of us I have ever owned. I can't wait to blow some of these suckers up. This was right before I got pregnant, and gosh I can't wait to do another shoot in May with the little guy this time. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I know they're all on Facebook and some already here on the blog, but I just wanted to feature some select favorites. </span><br />
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</span>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-72499156407786581912011-01-12T22:59:00.000-08:002011-01-13T08:20:14.051-08:00Wellness<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There are some things I can't go without. For instance, chocolate after dinner (didn't she explain this in the last post?), feeling a sense of accomplishment, and most importantly, human-interaction. Human-interaction is what keeps up sane, not to mention apart from the animals, and, essentially, happy and normal people. Since our move from Rexburg, I feel as though I have been completely removed from those around me--whether this is solely self-inflicted or circumstantial or a combination of the two is still a question needing to be answered. At the current moment, sitting on my bed in my new room, with my husband busy assembling a new dresser, I feel uncharacteristically empty. Empty in that I feel alone, overwhelmed, un-edified and unrelieved. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And do I dare go as far as to say: hopeless? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The odd thing is that I have been around people these entire two weeks. I have spent time with family, my husband, friends, and complete strangers. So what explains these sudden and unpleasant feelings? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As a retrace my steps, I think I've realized something interesting--or at least something I find interesting: amidst my previous settings with my previous people, I have been elsewhere--in my mind. Translation? My mind has been elsewhere. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Where?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Apartment hunting, apartment decorating, NCLEX studying, NCLEX worrying, baby worrying, baby hoping, new residence unpacking, new residence paperwork-ing, online class taking, grocery store shopping, etc. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Although I've been out on dates with my husband, spending time with family and friends, and corresponding with humans around me, all the while, I have been in my own head trying to plan/organize every detail of my next purchases, events, obligations, etc. that I have not actually been corresponding at all. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Which leads me to raise this question: Can simply being too busy, in both body and mind, cause the things we do each day to keep us sane to not have any effect on us at all? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I know the answer seems so obvious: of course it can. But let's be honest people--do we actually think that rule applies to us, as opposed to that guy/gal down the road? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No. Probably not. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I now have a better understanding of how people, especially women, can easily be run right into the hard, cold, lonely ground, simply by being too busy, too ambitious, and running faster than they have the strength. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I believe that mental and physical health go hand-in-hand to define our wellness and that if we're not happy or finding emotional stimulation and enjoyment by doing things that would normally bring us such, then perhaps we're not in need of medication, a sick-day, or therapy, maybe we just need to slow down the pace and allow ourselves to be stimulated. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What am I doing tomorrow? </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Nothing. </span>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-33016130999216085912011-01-06T21:52:00.000-08:002011-01-06T21:52:54.002-08:00Dessert<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ID5OcErl8hFcFBXQsgjPjhlo7WR6YzpZ7C25x8WgcfBKBeigQsO8XLDZTtF69uz0-kXP3xw853vusTNowzbFLNPJf45nNs4t0xDMHDvssoX_1o_k19RQh_tMJE8Ax8-k21G1gtG56vSK/s1600/cm_desertpic_triple_chocolate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ID5OcErl8hFcFBXQsgjPjhlo7WR6YzpZ7C25x8WgcfBKBeigQsO8XLDZTtF69uz0-kXP3xw853vusTNowzbFLNPJf45nNs4t0xDMHDvssoX_1o_k19RQh_tMJE8Ax8-k21G1gtG56vSK/s320/cm_desertpic_triple_chocolate.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I love dessert.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I always have. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One time I got the spanking of a lifetime for sticking my 5-year old finger in my little sister's birthday cake before dinner. Understandable, considering I didn't do it just once <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">try about 10. </span>Things haven't changed. I still prefer cookies and milk over a sandwich for lunch and think "what the heck" when someone sends me home after a dinner-date without at least a piece of chocolate. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So here's a confession:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today I went to cutesy little French cafe for lunch with a friend. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It gets worse. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Amongst all the delicious sandwiches, soups, and salads, this particular cafe greeted us with a beautiful display of French gems: pastries. Super hardcore ones at that. The kind that's almost too pretty too eat. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Usually after something like lunch I don't need anything sweet, so I really didn't think about purchasing something other than my vegetarian croissant sandwich. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But on the way out I thought, "It would be cruel to come home and tell Adam I went to a French bakery without bringing him back something."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So I bought something. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And on the way home, I got a little curious and had a conversation with myself about this beautiful white box staring from the seat next to me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"I wonder if it's even good."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Oh course it's good, Britney, but how good?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Maybe we should make sure it's safe."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I tried it. Surely husband would understand that in purchasing this over-priced delicacy that I would certainly want a little nibble. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One bite turned into two. Yeah, ok, I ate the whole thing. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Alright, but let me explain my rationale:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This particular dessert resembled a triple-layered chocolate mousse cake with super-thin crust in-between each fluffy layer. I thought when buying it that it was more of a cheesecake. The problem? Adam doesn't like pudding. He couldn't possibly enjoy this as much as I would. In fact, I was doing him a favor--if I was told someone had a pricey French dessert just for me my hopes and expectations would be pretty high. I wouldn't want to be disappointed with something I really didn't care for--like cherry pie...sick. So really, I selflessly took the bullet for my man and saved him some major disgruntlement. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I mean, it could have ruined his whole day.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yeah, I'm a bad wife. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not to mention a total pig. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But it was 100% worth it. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Don't judge me. </span><br />
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</span>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8118338198415164395.post-84095343131265327942011-01-05T15:55:00.000-08:002011-01-05T20:14:04.287-08:00Aimless Rant<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No one wants to hear a 7-months-pregnant woman rant about...well anything...but we all have a need to divulge--or perniciously expel--our inner-most frustrations, annoyances, and heart-felt omg's. So stop here if you're already not in the mood, but from here on out, I'm whining about my experiences of the past 5 days:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-I'm under the impression that 2/3 of the world's hepatitis is festering in rest stop toilets. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Why when I ask for an "Iced Chocolate" do I get without question an "Ice Coffee?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-I can't quite understand why people enjoy watching me eat. Do they think it's cute that I'm taking care of my unborn child? Are they waiting to judge me for eating a Reese's? Or are they expecting some sort of freak show where I eat everything in site? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Obviously I'm biased and think that the east coast is the greatest place on earth, but when a waiter finds out I know where Cherry Hill, NJ is because--oh-my-gosh-no-way--he's from there, I don't care to talk about everything you love about it. Just bring me my *@$# food. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Why would I want a 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment where the second bathroom is in the baby's room? So Jude can start out his life with his very own stand-up shower? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Leggings are not pants. Especially when you're not athletic. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-How hard is it to include water, sewage, and garbage in the rent to close a deal? "Oh, you want to sign a year lease paying way more than you really need to for one of our shoeboxes, but won't do it if we don't pay those, even though every other apartment complex is? Ummm, no, $40/month just isn't worth it." Jerks. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Why is there 1 Dunkin Donuts in the Northwest? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Hey drivers: Stop cutting me off. I don't care if you're late for a Tree People's meeting. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-If something I'm charged a daily rate to rent is returned 3 days early, I expect to be refunded those 3 days. Understand?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-How much ice cream is too much? A heaping bowl a day? What if it's low-fat? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-I just got my OK to schedule a time and place to take the NCLEX. Eff. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Why don't they design beds specifically so that pregnant women can sleep at night too? I mean, most people are pregnant at some point during the use of their mattresses. We can't all be skinny our entire lives. I would assume it would work the same way for men with potbellies. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Ikea's having a sale and I don't have a place to live.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Thanks but no thanks Portland pizza. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Please don't lie to me and tell me I look fabulous when my face is red, my butt and ankles are swollen, and I'm scarfing down a piece of cake the size of a small child. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Out of all the changes going on with my body right now, why did my eyebrows decide to get involved? Who gets frizzy eyebrows? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-"This too shall pass" better not be just empty words of comfort to calm the desperate. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">-Why am I constantly running out of clean underwear? Who the heck is wearing my underwear?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hah that felt good. </span>Adam and Britneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16589953225535034741noreply@blogger.com8