<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189</id><updated>2012-02-01T11:19:16.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Skulls and Stuffed Animals</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>113</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-4305644920627306993</id><published>2012-01-31T14:37:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T15:13:20.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's about me this time!</title><content type='html'>How about another round of 'Random Things'. But this time about me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My energy level has tanked. Like, I could fall asleep right now as I type and my mouth is in a permanent yawn. There are probably many different reasons for this but I'm betting the biggest one is that I find it impossible to fall asleep before midnight every night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I have finally, and for the last time ever, quit smoking. It only took almost 17 years after I first started to be able to say it and mean it. And over the last week I've been tested, let me tell you. Probably the worst. time. ever. to quit but we can't predict what life throws at us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm going back and forth between saving up to buy a treadmill and trying to find a gym buddy and joining Spa Lady. The treadmill would probably be more cost effective but the gym! They have Zumba classes! That I'd probably never attend but still!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(This is where Jeff pipes in and reminds me that a) where the fuck would we put a treadmill? and b) I couldn't find the time to go to the gym before so what's changed? And I would say: Darling, I let you babble on about all your crap. Let me do the same.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(But I am serious about wanting to do one of those 2 things. I've got it all planned out.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm in the process of growing out my hair. I'm an idiot and assumed that all I'd have to do is not go to my hair stylist. A word of warning to anyone trying to grow out a pixie cut, you still need to have your hair looked after or else it'll look like a big 'ol poofball. That, or you'll look like a sheepdog with all that damn hair in your eyes. It's not very attractive. Luckily I have an appointment this evening and I can go back to being stunning. Phew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-One more thing, and you knew I wouldn't be able to not mention my kids right? This whole no-energy thing is making for one not very fun house right now. Because in addition to me being exhausted, the kids are no longer napping which means they are extra lovable and charming come about 2:30 in the afternoon. It makes it hard to keep tempers even and the yelling to a minimum. And that goes for EVERYONE in the house. We're all bitchy lately. I'm really wishing for one of those 'Easy' buttons about now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I've got one child (I'll give you one guess who) whining and pointing at the fridge for some YOOOOGURRRRT. I've been told.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-4305644920627306993?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/4305644920627306993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=4305644920627306993' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4305644920627306993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4305644920627306993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2012/01/its-about-me-this-time.html' title='It&apos;s about me this time!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-376334370412855939</id><published>2012-01-17T09:08:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T09:26:04.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello again.</title><content type='html'>I've been in a blog rut lately. Can't think of anything interesting enough to write about so I've been silent for...a couple weeks? A month?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how about some random crap? Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Nicky is majorly whiny lately. Like, make your brain bleed whiny. Apparently I've commented on this enough that when I give him the warning "Nicholas..." he responds with "I'm making your brain bleed?". Huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Josh has a soundtrack to his life lately. It goes something like this: "Boom-boom, cha. Boom-boom, cha". All day, as he's playing with his cars, as he's eating his breakfast, as he's watching tv. We've all found ourselves making these sounds under our breath, it's quite catchy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-After a serious talk with my eldest about respect, in which I told him he needed to look up the definition if he couldn't figure it out, life has been very attitude-free for the past 5ish days. I'm savoring it, who knows when it'll end? Also, he's going to be 13 in exactly 2 months. Thir-effing-teen. Where did my life go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Oh, and about Liam too. And this makes me roll my eyes and in some sneaky way be proud too (because he obviously got his looks from me). Amongst his friends, according to him, he's got the best hair. The guys are all trying to grow theirs out to look like his, and the girls think it's "so sexy". There's something that doesn't feel...right....about 12 year old girls thinking my kids hair is 'sexy, but unfortunately I can't control what comes out of other peoples mouths so I'm just going with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh look! A whole blog post! Who knew my kids were so damn interesting?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-376334370412855939?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/376334370412855939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=376334370412855939' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/376334370412855939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/376334370412855939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2012/01/hello-again.html' title='Hello again.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3930855704377994751</id><published>2011-12-15T16:11:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T16:32:58.855-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toddler reality.</title><content type='html'>I've noticed a widespread derision of the childrens show Caillou among most of the parents I know. I've just gotta say, I don't really understand it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's realistic guys. It's a toddlers very own reality show. It's so true to life that when it's playing in my house I can't even distinguish between my own kids and fake cartoon ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that's not realistic about Caillou are the parents. Because I sure as shit am not that patient when my kids turn on the whine. No, no no no. No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids spend a lot of time in time out. I spend a lot of time saying the following phrases:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy doesn't listen to whining. You need to use your real voice."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nicky, use your real voice or you can go to time out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Josh, use your real voice (or stop hitting your brother/don't say 'stupid'/don't bite your dad) or you can go to time out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"THAT'S ENOUGH, TIME OUT NOW."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately the only thing that works is the threat of Chippy telling Santa that they're being bad. And that only works on Nicky, not Josh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&amp;gt;Tangent. My kids are uber unoriginal. When we got our Elf On The Shelf, Nicky promptly named him Elf. After some coaxing to come up with something more...well, interesting, he came up with Chippy. Because that's the name of the elf from the cartoon so DUH of course that's his name. Liam was the same way. Years ago when we got a cat he was named-wait for it...Cat. We eventually settled on Jojo-Cat. Yawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, point is I yell a lot. And Caillou's parents don't. So that part doesn't ring true to me. But the whiny, annoying, snot-nosed kid part? I can relate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Livin the dream, I tell ya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3930855704377994751?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3930855704377994751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3930855704377994751' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3930855704377994751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3930855704377994751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/12/toddler-reality.html' title='Toddler reality.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7500415378049716403</id><published>2011-11-21T11:43:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-21T12:09:42.668-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The reason I'll always be chubby.</title><content type='html'>My love affair with chips has spanned decades. They are my weakness. It's pathetic, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how when you're eating a bag of chips and somebody asks for one right? And how you grab a chip and give it to that person. Right? Everyone doles out their chips don't they? No? Well I guess I can admit I'm a bit territorial about them. It always made me cringe when people would plunge their hands into my chip bag and come up with a big handful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This behavior got me teased mercilessly by my friends in high school. I took it like a champ though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nowadays, my kids have all inherited my love of savory snacks. And I still have to battle the urge to smack their hands away when they're trying to 'share'. In reality, they don't get to eat chips very often. And that's only because I wait till they're out of the room, quickly fill a bowl with some chips, and then put the bowl in the sink so they can't see it and stand at the counter like I'm really busy cleaning and inhale them. Fools them every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except I can't breathe near them till after I've brushed my teeth. They can smell them on my breath. In fact, Josh can detect the smell from about 4 feet away. And then it's all 'cheeps, cheeps, cheeeeeps mummy'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam is old enough to buy his own chips now. And like I was in junior high, he doesn't like to share either. Keeps an eagle eye on me when I grab some from his bag. Gives me the stink eye when he thinks I've taken too many. Hell, half the time he refuses to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as much as I understand, I still want to punch him in the face for being so greedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't even get me started on flavors and dips. Because this post could go on forever. Suffice it to say, I will eat any, and I mean ANY, flavor of chips. And I would kiss the feet of anybody who could find me some Helluva Good Buttermilk Ranch dip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other people get this obsessive about snacks right? I cannot be alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7500415378049716403?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7500415378049716403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7500415378049716403' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7500415378049716403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7500415378049716403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/11/reason-ill-always-be-chubby.html' title='The reason I&apos;ll always be chubby.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2001494351925195602</id><published>2011-11-02T16:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-02T16:25:09.716-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tubthumping</title><content type='html'>It happened as I was stripping the bed after an unfortunate &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;naptime&lt;/span&gt; accident. And it was so appropriate that I was unsure of whether to laugh or sit down and cry. I settled for rolling my eyes, humming along, and getting down to business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, that 90's tune that meant SO MUCH MORE 15&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ish&lt;/span&gt; years ago has now become my life's theme song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between the rare-but-still-happening-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;occasionally&lt;/span&gt; accidents with Nicky and Josh's insistence on '&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;unnerware&lt;/span&gt;' (though to date he has peed in the potty 4 times) I have been a non-stop pee cleaning machine. Our spot cleaner has never been used on such a continuous basis before and I don't even bother emptying the cleaning solution anymore. I'll just be refilling it within 12-24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids smell like pee, my house smells like pee, I'm pretty sure I smell like pee. This is so much fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pissing the night away...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2001494351925195602?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2001494351925195602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2001494351925195602' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2001494351925195602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2001494351925195602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/11/tubthumping.html' title='Tubthumping'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3138604944627202138</id><published>2011-10-24T11:42:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T12:04:13.554-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's potty time.</title><content type='html'>Over the past few months I've gotten all pissy a couple times about the wild one's propensity for diaper ripping. And then publicly declared that it was potty training time. Only to give it up after 3 hours as a lost cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it's happening again. I'm publicly declaring that it's 'that time again folks'. But this time I plan on being a tad bit smarter than previous attempts. After sitting him down on the potty, him doing nothing, and then making water in his drawers 5 minutes after I put them on him, I had a brilliant flash of inspiration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of setting the timer in order to sit him down every 15 minutes, I'm setting it to see how long he can go between peeing and then trying to determine if there's any sort of pattern. Then tomorrow when we start for real, I should hopefully have some sort of game plan instead of making him sit down and hang out on the potty against his will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole being bored sitting on the potty was a major source of frustration when I was training Nicky. I'm trying to avoid that this time around. And I figure if I give it a good effort for a week and it's not getting through to him then he's not ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he ripped his diaper off and ran into his bedroom and took a shit on his dresser this morning. I wouldn't say I wasn't paying attention but I'm so used to Nicky tattling that I didn't catch it in time. It was "scusting". And I'm very much over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only thing I'm worried about, besides the mountains of laundry this will result in? That Jeff will get impatient with this new method and just slap a diaper on him since it's easier. And that concern is not unfounded since he did the same thing with Nicky. But I'm sure that won't happen since I'm calling him out on it here right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does that song go? You may say I'm a dreamer....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3138604944627202138?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3138604944627202138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3138604944627202138' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3138604944627202138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3138604944627202138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/10/its-potty-time.html' title='It&apos;s potty time.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6991187049021005801</id><published>2011-10-19T09:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T09:54:32.637-06:00</updated><title type='text'>School is cool.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A month in to this pre-school thing and I'm prepared to eat my previous opinions on the whole 'pushing kids so fast' thing. I've been the mom helper twice now and it's nothing like how I thought it would be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They do nothing but play and make crafts and run around and have snack. There's no formal teaching. And I&lt;em&gt; like&lt;/em&gt; that. I'm not a mompetitor *snicker*. I figure if he's not doing advanced calculus by kindergarten then I might have to step in. Right now we're cool with numbers and colors and shapes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing though, and this was completely out of the blue. Pre-school has turned my formerly independant and full-of-energy kid into a major lazybones. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Months upon months ago, we got rid of the double stroller. Nicky hated being confined and was mature enough to handle walking next to the stroller without running off and getting killed by a moving vehicle. So now we have a regular 'ol Graco for Josh and it's been so nice to not push around a monstrosity.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Except now Mr. Lazybones has claimed the basket for his own. Which, okay he fits down there. And he's not a heifer so he's not breaking it. But damn. Now I look like some kind of welfare mom who couldn't afford to spring for a double stroller for her two closely-spaced kids with different baby-daddies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't believe me? One of the moms at school stopped me one day and offered me her used double stroller that she has no need of anymore. I sputtered some nonsense about having one and getting rid of it-I probably didn't make any sense. I was a little mortified. I'm pretty sure I flashed my wedding ring so that she would know I was a respectable woman. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So all in all, this pre-school has been a positive experience. My own insecurities aside of course. And the 3 hour break twice a week? Priceless. It's given me a taste of what life will be like in 2 years when he starts kindergarten and Josh is in pre-school too. I find myself very much looking forward to it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6991187049021005801?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6991187049021005801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6991187049021005801' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6991187049021005801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6991187049021005801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/10/school-is-cool.html' title='School is cool.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6140355356097574699</id><published>2011-10-05T12:57:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T13:26:01.346-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Brothers</title><content type='html'>It's interesting to watch my children interact with each other. I swear, I could sit and watch them for hours and marvel over how their personalities are emerging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except for when Liam is pinning Nicky down and that god-awful screech starts. When that happens I do not marvel. I get pissy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Nicky was born, Liam was over the moon excited to have a brother. It was awesome for the first few months when Liam could love on him and Nicky didn't really have much choice in the matter. Babies, after all, are pretty helpless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while Liam figured out that it's also fun to bug brothers. So that started. And so it went like this: Liam would bug Nicky. Five minutes later Liam would want to cuddle him. Nicky, remembering the torture that went on just prior, would protest. Loudly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it stands right now, they bug each other, and yell at each other, and every six months you'll find them cuddled up and watching a t.v. show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam tried the same games with Josh but he quickly figured out that the torture doesn't bother Josh as much as it did Nicky. As a result, things are much more friendly between those two. That's NOT to say he doesn't pick on Josh too, it's just that he doesn't get the same reaction so he doesn't do it as often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how are things between the two youngest, you might ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicky would throw Josh under the bus in a New York minute. It's actually the cutest thing to watch, but it's also totally selective. Typical scenario:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're both in bed and we hear somebody running around the room, turning on lights, pulling out dresser drawers and emptying them, turning up the radio volume. In goes Daddy to give 'em shit and Josh has a huge smile on his face and is nodding his head as Jeff scolds him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's Nicky. "I'm being a good boy daddy. I didn't get out of my bed. Josh is being a bad boy daddy, give him trouble. He needs a spank".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Repeat as necessary for any number of situations. It happens 15 times a day. And I'm pretty sure Josh is not the only one doing naughty things. He just doesn't talk as well as Nicky does yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, it's very interesting to watch their personalities in regards to each other develop. Liam's the bully, Nicky's the brown-noser, and Josh is the scapegoat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm, maybe next time I should write a post highlighting their more endearing qualities? They do have them, I swear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6140355356097574699?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6140355356097574699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6140355356097574699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6140355356097574699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6140355356097574699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/10/brothers.html' title='Brothers'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3472381960401714877</id><published>2011-08-31T10:29:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T10:57:34.230-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy stinky feet, batman.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Liam has this friend. They hang out every day, so you could probably say they're best friends. Mention that to either one of them though and you'll get a 'look' and they'd say they're just friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God, 12 year olds are so weird.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But about this friend. Over this summer puberty has hit him (and Liam) with a vengeance. And along with all those lovely puberty 'things' has come overactive sweat glands. He's got the personal hygiene thing down, but he forgot one little thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He can't wear his runners without socks anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've noticed the stink a couple times in the past month. And I've ribbed him about it once or twice and he takes it with a grin. He knows. And he's taken to wearing socks now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But DAMN. I think his runners are ruined because he slept over last night and it's all I could smell. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Without hesitation, I filled a bowl up with warm water and grabbed some soap and took it downstairs to him. And he was sheepish about it and I TRIED not to embarass him. But I did explain to him that it was probably his shoes that were making his feet smell like Doritos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was pretty close to throwing his shoes outside too, but I restrained myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll betcha he'll be getting new shoes sometime in the near future. Y'know, with junior high starting tomorrow he's got to make a good first impression with the ladies. And stinky feet is NOT how any boy or man wants to be remembered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3472381960401714877?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3472381960401714877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3472381960401714877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3472381960401714877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3472381960401714877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/08/holy-stinky-feet-batman.html' title='Holy stinky feet, batman.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-4608609347562142066</id><published>2011-08-21T10:52:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T11:09:41.532-06:00</updated><title type='text'>To my Joshy.</title><content type='html'>This is gonna be quick and dirty, since I'm out of time this morning. Today is blog hop day and it's dedicated to my youngest monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh. You were 100% a suprise and at first not a happy one. Maybe that's not nice but it's true. Your brother was only 8 months old when we found out about you and I really couldn't see past the scariness of having two kids only 16 months apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the excitement came, along with the knowledge that things always work out. I started hoping for my long-awaited girl. The ultrasound tech even gave me hope but in the end she couldn't get a good enough shot of your goods to tell me for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't find out you were a boy until you were born and for a split second my heart dropped. Again, not nice but it's the truth. And then came the love. I know boys. I knew I had this one in the bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you would have made a horrible girl. You are a little boy through and through. I couldn't imagine you any other way, with your weekly fat lips, constant scrapes on your knees, and crazy yell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm proud to tell people I'm a mother to all boys. It feels like I'm in a special club. When I think about you and your brothers I just can't imagine any other dynamic for our little family. You guys are rough and tumble and just love each other so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Josh, thank you for being the best suprise and thank you for being you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**blog hop ladies, I'm out of time for tagging so leave your link either in the comments here or on my facebook page. Lets get some traffic going!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-4608609347562142066?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/4608609347562142066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=4608609347562142066' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4608609347562142066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4608609347562142066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/08/to-my-joshy.html' title='To my Joshy.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-4488550396980249167</id><published>2011-08-12T13:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T14:08:22.769-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Back from hiatus.</title><content type='html'>It's official, my last baby is not a baby anymore. I'm not at all sad about this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I can't wait until he's a little bit older and calms the eff down already. Although...if we're being completely honest I think that is more to do with his personality and not so much to do with his age. This youngest one is a bit of a party animal. And he's wild. SO WILD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been about a week and a half that he's completely weaned off the boob. Okay, so he'd been down to only in the morning for the past couple months but still. It's nice to be done for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more thing that pushes Josh from baby straight into toddler with no chance of looking back? He's regularily climbing out of his crib. And not even the climbing up to the top and then falling down to the floor version, he scales that thing like a monkey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like we'll be dusting off the trusty toddler bed this weekend. That $150 purchase 10 years ago has surely been put to good use. Even though it's ugly as hell. But there's no way I could bring up the idea of buying another bed. Because numerous people would agree that I probably have a bit of a problem buying childrens beds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam is 12 and he's had...6? Ya, I think 6 different beds, including his crib and toddler bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now that we've brought up the subject, how cute would matching beds and blankets look in there? I'm thinking IKEA (of course) Malm beds, in a light color to match their dresser. With a bookcase between them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should probably go back to cleaning the house now. Best not to keep going down that path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-4488550396980249167?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/4488550396980249167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=4488550396980249167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4488550396980249167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4488550396980249167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/08/back-from-hiatus.html' title='Back from hiatus.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1915590542266901084</id><published>2011-07-13T12:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T12:57:55.745-06:00</updated><title type='text'>T-five hours!</title><content type='html'>Today is the day I'm finally doing something I have been talking about for years and years. I'm chopping the hair off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little nervous. Mostly excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I showed Jeff the picture I sent to my hairdresser (the talented Monica of Dare Your Hair) and here's what I got:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You're going blond too? How about red...or black, black would be hot. Like your hair at Halloween...' (and on and on and rawr and blah blah blah).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going chocolate brown honey, sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was describing the cut to Liam, and in typical 12 year old boy fashion, this is what I got from him:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'You're going to look like a boy. I'm not sure that'll be a good look for you.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the honesty kid. How about this. You look like Justin Beiber. Snap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned for the big reveal. I'm hoping I don't look like a big huge idiot that made an unfortunate hair choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1915590542266901084?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1915590542266901084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1915590542266901084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1915590542266901084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1915590542266901084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/07/t-five-hours.html' title='T-five hours!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3273843214165151366</id><published>2011-07-04T12:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T13:17:47.640-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My time is now precious.</title><content type='html'>I never realised how much of a cut my time would take, what with me having a part time job and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't stepped foot inside of a gym in two weeks and my waistline is SO PROTESTING. One could say that to compensate I should cut my caloric intake. That would be smart. I am apparently not that smart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, my kids are having a hard time with me leaving them a couple days a week to go to work. As I'm writing this, I've come to the realization that their recent whining is a direct result of this. They're used to having my undivided attention every moment of the day and it's taking some getting used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said...I'll be making more of an effort to figure out how to get to the gym at least 3 times a week. Perhaps a bike is needed so that I can get there quickly during the day while at least Josh is sleeping . This is where Liam makes the big bucks with babysitting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the kids being whiney little a-holes? That's where me getting down on their level more often will come into play. They just miss their mommy, and maybe now that I understand this it will translate into me being more patient with them. They're just almost 2 and 3 after all. And they need this opportunity to become more independant of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think we need to contemplate whether the 12 year old misses me. Especially at this moment when he's restricted to the house after a less than stellar 3rd term report card. Oh the joys of parenthood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly though, some days it's a joy to walk out the door. I probably need this just as much as they do. Ahhhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3273843214165151366?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3273843214165151366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3273843214165151366' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3273843214165151366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3273843214165151366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-time-is-now-precious.html' title='My time is now precious.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2740156834463867318</id><published>2011-06-21T12:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T13:06:21.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad things happen in 3's...X 2.</title><content type='html'>So, my day yesterday? It pretty much takes the cake on a scale of suckiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thing, Josh-the-diaper-ripper took a pee on the rug in his room. Sadly, this isn't a one time deal. He's obsessed with his weiner and loves to be free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Nicky got a hold of the counter cleaner and sprayed it in his face. That was after he ate half the sugar/cinnamon mix that I keep for sandwiches etc. The rest of it went all over the counter and floor. I'm pretty sure he won't be messing with the cleaner again after I bent him backward over the tub and poured a jug of cold water over his head. Kids gotta learn somehow right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To finish off the trifecta of awesomeness, Josh got the bottle of maple syrup out of the fridge and oh so quietly emptied most of it onto the kitchen floor. In multiple areas. And then walked through it and all over the house before I noticed. I'm pretty sure he rolled in it a bit too, just as a 'fuck you' to his mom. Pardon the language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was all before 9 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to keep my cool, clean up the messes, and generally be chill for the remainder of the day. Don't get me wrong, I still wanted to run screaming out of the house (locking them inside for safety's sake of course), but I managed to persevere. And then 4:30 hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 4:30 a couple things happened all at once. Actually it was 3 main things, which makes me think that those people that say bad things happen in 3's do know what the hell they're talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know how when you're trying to make dinner that's the time when the kids decide to get all whiney and clingy and just generally annoying? They were both hanging off each of my legs and hitting each other and arguing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Liam calls from his friends house to tell me that there's "some thing" at his new Junior High that he has to go to at 6:30 but it's okay because he can go with his friend and the friends dad. And oh ya, he had a sheet about it but it was lost and "oh my God why is it a big deal".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, kid. Maybe it's a big deal because I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THIS SHIT. What if fees needed to be paid? What if there was information that couldn't be trusted to a 12 year old to be relayed? What if I just want to be there because you're my first born who's going into Junior High and it's a milestone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while my feelings are all hurt over THAT crap, I go downstairs to grab some veggies for the stir fry only to find that my storage room has flooded. Cue the swearing and slamming of doors and ohmygod everybody should be glad they were not around me at that exact moment. My poor sister was on the phone with me but she's all ragey too so she wasn't fazed one bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have I learned from my crap day yesterday? Tears really ARE the best manipulator on the planet. Tears over the phone to Jeff made him pack his shit up and come home right away, stopping at Costco to pick up a new shop vac. Tears made Liam feel like crap for being insensitive and he one arm hugged me and told me he hoped the rest of my day went better as he was on his way out to his 'some thing' at the school. And tears made the 2 little ones cuddle up in my lap and be calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't pull them out often. Jeff could probably count on one hand the times he's seen me cry in our years together. But DAMN will I allow them to come if I ever have another day like yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*right now my child-free-by-choice friends are patting themselves on the back for having made such a smart decision. Touche, my friends ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2740156834463867318?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2740156834463867318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2740156834463867318' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2740156834463867318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2740156834463867318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/06/bad-things-happen-in-3sx-2.html' title='Bad things happen in 3&apos;s...X 2.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8850374738629184053</id><published>2011-06-11T08:10:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T09:16:34.018-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Buzzed.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes things don't work out quite how they're intended. That's what happened to me yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, I don't claim to have any talent as a hairdresser at ALL. That doesn't stop me from being a cheap bastard and cutting my kids hair myself. Technically that wasn't my intention when I pulled out the scissors yesterday. We were actually planning on taking them to a real-life hairdresser and getting them each a cut from a professional. For real. I'm NOT just saying that after the fact. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I got so tired of the bangs in their eyes so I decided to just trim a tiny little bit off the bangs and at the nape just to hold over until we made it to the mall. Our weekends have been so busy lately that we haven't made it and the thought of taking them both by myself...well let's say that pretty much anything else would be preferable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Josh sat there fine while I trimmed. He looked a little goofy but I figured it would be a week tops till we got it fixed so meh, whatever. Then it was Nickys turn. I'm going along, he's twisting around, and then it happened. His bangs were cut to about an inch long. GOOBER. See below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 239px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616967155720706242" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0_WnGyrlaqk/TfN53j_E2MI/AAAAAAAAAC8/DqBWcTMAFME/s320/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B083.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin was over having coffee and she was laughing her ass off the whole time. She even tried to tell me he looked fine. SURE DEB. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was time for the clippers and the rite of passage: the buzz cut. Best friend of cheap parents everywhere. Again, Josh sat happily still for the cut. Which suprised me because of the two I was sure he was the one I was going to be chasing around like a crazed clipper-killer. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nicky was a totally different story. It took me an hour, a sucker, a chocolate pudding, some fruit snacks, and a daddy to finally get the job done. Screaming and crying as if I was torturing him. Pleading and begging and bargaining. A couple times I had him wedged between my thighs and managed a couple swipes up the back. Then Jeff got home and managed to sweet talk him into sitting still for the 60 seconds it took to complete the job.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Much praise ensued, and I gotta say they look pretty damn cute. They look even more alike now and last night when they were sleeping I almost didn't know which was which. This morning when I unleashed them on Jeff to wake him up, he asked me which one was poking his head up over the side of the bed. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bk3wQqRNT-o/TfOFRPEwHCI/AAAAAAAAADE/zM74NvEiCUM/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B085.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 239px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616979691411872802" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bk3wQqRNT-o/TfOFRPEwHCI/AAAAAAAAADE/zM74NvEiCUM/s320/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B085.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 239px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616980136815908802" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s320/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xuZ8HW75c8/TfOFrKVWV8I/AAAAAAAAADM/HBNUuxCPuwE/s1600/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B086.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8850374738629184053?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8850374738629184053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8850374738629184053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8850374738629184053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8850374738629184053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/06/buzzed.html' title='Buzzed.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0_WnGyrlaqk/TfN53j_E2MI/AAAAAAAAAC8/DqBWcTMAFME/s72-c/iphone%2Bjune%2B11%2B083.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1814366064846359904</id><published>2011-06-09T09:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T10:25:04.792-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Big news!</title><content type='html'>It's official. After three years of watcing soap operas, napping, and lounging around on my fat ass eating bon-bons, I am re-entering the work force.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, even I couldn't keep a straight face writing that out. I haven't watched a soap opera since I was about 13, my ass, while not quite as trim as it was 10 years ago, is certainly not &lt;em&gt;fat&lt;/em&gt;, and I prefer chips to candy or chocolate. I'll totally cop to the napping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been throwing around the idea of getting a part time job for a while now. And since I'm nothing if not dedicated to procrastination, it's taken me about a year and a half to get to the actual point of dropping off resumes. Which I did on Sunday. At the mall. Because retail is just what I'm looking for right now - easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bright and early Monday I got a call from the store that I actually hoped to get an interview at. After scrambling trying to find someone to watch the hooligans (didn't happen) I set it up for Tuesday afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I totally rocked the interview. I knew I did, and I knew I got the job. But, just as a parent may take perverse pleasure in embarassing her children, potential employers take satisfaction in waiting until the end of the next day before calling a person and telling them they got the job. I had given up hope and was thanking my lucky stars I hadn't written anything publicly on facebook so I didn't look like a loser that I didn't get a mall job. Because I am all weird like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course I got the job! I'm batting 6 for 7 here. I think that's the correct baseball terminology? I go in today to pick up the employment package and I'm guessing I'll start sometime next week. Time to start saving up for my trip in September, you know all those American stores will be calling my name!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention, the opportunity to interact with other humans besides Thing One and Thing Two. Who are total cutie pies, don't get me wrong. But they're exhausting and honestly a job at this point would be a vacation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1814366064846359904?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1814366064846359904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1814366064846359904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1814366064846359904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1814366064846359904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/06/big-news.html' title='Big news!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1810704479729869547</id><published>2011-06-08T07:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T08:17:24.104-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love You!</title><content type='html'>I don't do it very often anymore, but it really starts my day of great when I follow Liam onto the porch when he's leaving for school and call out in a really loud voice "I love you, have a great day at school!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came to an agreement a while ago that I am allowed to say say those things ONLY in the privacy of our own home. It's made our mornings infinitely more streamlined when I'm not dealing with a bitchy 12 year old because I've admitted to STRANGERS that I, *gasp*, love him and care about him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because, you know, our street is just full of random people at 8am standing around waiting to hear a mom tell her son she loves him on his way to school. And then they laugh at him because OH THE HORROR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What with how prickly and anti-mom he is now, you'd never know that this kid held my hand at all times till he was 7 and insisted I carry him well into kindergarten. Seriously. So that's why when I follow him outside and call out to him, and then I get the bellow back that I'm not supposed to say those things outside (but secretly I can tell he's pleased...right?), it gives me a perverse sense of glee. It makes me happy to have that slight little one-up on him that maybe only another parent of a pre-teen can understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another by product of this getting older business is his interest in girls. It's just exploded and I was expecting it but still it smacked me up the head just the same. Honestly, it was like one day he thought they were annoying and the next he was showering every morning and making me blowdry his Beiber hair. Girls calling him, facebook chatting with him, hanging out with him at the park. GAHHHH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But thankfully and perhaps suprisingly for my kid, he's kept a pretty open dialogue with me on what is appropriate and what's not when it comes to 'dating'. As far as a 12 year old sixth-grader can 'date'. I know this honesty won't last forever, junior high is beckoning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while these teen years are going to be a pain in my ass, I can still take comfort in the ability to embarass the crap outta him. I've figured out the age old rant of teenagers everywhere, why our parents were so annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've totally got this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1810704479729869547?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1810704479729869547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1810704479729869547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1810704479729869547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1810704479729869547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-love-you.html' title='I Love You!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8037237200458653235</id><published>2011-05-31T08:19:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T08:36:39.287-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoying and cute.</title><content type='html'>To set the stage: I'm sitting at the kitchen table trying to drink my coffee. Liam is still sleeping, the two youngest are running around the house yelling about going outside, and Jeff is getting his lunch ready for work. It's 7:05 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Nicky is climbing onto my lap, followed closely by Josh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: I'm two!&lt;br /&gt;J: IIII twoooooo!&lt;br /&gt;N: No, I'M two!&lt;br /&gt;J: IIII twoooooo!&lt;br /&gt;N: You're not two, I'M two!&lt;br /&gt;J:...IIII twooooooo!&lt;br /&gt;N: Joshua Michael Panchuk, I'MMM TWOOOO!&lt;br /&gt;J: IIII twoooooo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: No, Nicholas you are three, and Joshua you are one.&lt;br /&gt;Daddy: (shoulders are shaking with laughter as he stands with his back to us at the counter preparing his breakfast of chocolate ice cream and cinnamon toast crunch)(not a word is uttered from his mouth)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: Ya sure, I'm three!&lt;br /&gt;J: IIII threeeeee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daddy: Have a great day honey!&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: *facepalm*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8037237200458653235?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8037237200458653235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8037237200458653235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8037237200458653235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8037237200458653235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/05/annoying-and-cute.html' title='Annoying and cute.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8625426285960150105</id><published>2011-05-24T12:04:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-24T12:20:03.444-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Have I told you lately that I'm a procrastinator?</title><content type='html'>I have a confession to make. It's really gross and I can't even believe I'm admitting this on the interwebs. Seriously, in this case my housekeeping skills are FAR surpassed by my procrastination skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. We've owned this house for 4 years and in that whole time I have never, not once, not ever, cleaned my oven. In fact, I couldn't even SPELL oven in that last sentence, that's how much I think about the oven and all things related to it besides cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I use the oven all.the.time. Love that appliance, it's quite handy. Lately though, it's become apparent that I need to bite the bullet and clean it. I made a pizza last night and I had to open the window because it was getting super smoky. Disgusting, you don't even have to tell me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, who does that? Who doesn't clean their oven at least once in 4 years? And I guarantee it wasn't clean when we bought the house. So who knows the last time it was cleaned? I clean the fridge regularily. And the microwave, in fact I just did that one on the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just that damn oven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, to be honest and in the spirit of full disclosure...it's behind the oven too. And behind the fridge. And under the microwave stand and behind the water cooler. God, it's hard to properly clean your shit with toddlers underfoot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my excuse and I'm 150% sticking to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8625426285960150105?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8625426285960150105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8625426285960150105' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8625426285960150105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8625426285960150105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/05/have-i-told-you-lately-that-im.html' title='Have I told you lately that I&apos;m a procrastinator?'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-5823576070329404013</id><published>2011-05-19T12:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T12:12:13.916-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I have no shame.</title><content type='html'>Something occurred to me the other day as I was getting back into my street clothes after swimming laps; I've turned into one of the those old ladies at the pool that I used to cringe at as a younger girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the ones. No shame, too unconcerned to squeeze into one of those tiny change rooms to shimmy around getting into dry clothing. Stretch marks, bit of a tummy, cellulite disfiguring the upper thighs and butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving a free show or anything. I try to be semi-modest with my towel if there are other people around. But if the change room is empty and you happen to stroll in, be prepared for a little nudity. I just don't care too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those two poor 12 year olds. Give 'em 20 years, they'll be writing the same damn thing I am right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-5823576070329404013?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/5823576070329404013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=5823576070329404013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5823576070329404013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5823576070329404013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-have-no-shame.html' title='I have no shame.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-918620693230031399</id><published>2011-05-11T12:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T12:46:46.902-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Randoms</title><content type='html'>1. I had a meltdown this morning when it comes to the damn potty training. I threw a diaper on Nicky and told him he made me very mad. He stared at me, then danced off and played with some Thomas trains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probably not the best way to handle it, but we'll be back to undies after nap time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm looking forward to the next 6 days of reverting back to my messy bachelorette days while Jeff is out of town. I'm NOT looking forward to listening to the whining about 'where's daddy?'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, okay. I'll miss him too. We don't spend very many nights apart and he's like my 3rd arm, it'll feel weird not having him here too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. In a totally unexpected turn of events, JEFF signed up for a monthly membership at our pool too!! I kicked his ass on laps the other night, he had to go sit in the hot tub while I continued swimming. Ha HA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says he's going to get up in the morning before work and go to the gym. I say he's living in a dreamworld, dude pushes snooze more than any person alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(he also can't resist a challenge, even when it's as blatant as this)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it, time to go tackle the crushed up cinnamon toast crunch that's all.over.my.house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-918620693230031399?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/918620693230031399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=918620693230031399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/918620693230031399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/918620693230031399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/05/randoms.html' title='Randoms'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3083573752211582982</id><published>2011-05-10T09:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T09:10:05.999-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Status update.</title><content type='html'>The potty training...it's not going so hot. My kid is oblivious to the signs that he either has to pee, is currently peeing, or has peed and is now lounging around in wet undies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's got 9 pairs of undies. Yesterday, he had 9 accidents, and that's not counting the 45 minutes I let him go commando outside before throwing another pair on him because I wasn't too fond of the sight of him baring all as he was pushing his cars around. Nobody needs to see that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was also setting the timer at 15 minutes, but the kid has a LOT of pee. Today I've decided on 10 minute intervals. He's getting really annoyed at me already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh patience, don't fail me now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3083573752211582982?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3083573752211582982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3083573752211582982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3083573752211582982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3083573752211582982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/05/status-update.html' title='Status update.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8642917565957392204</id><published>2011-05-09T09:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T10:26:21.245-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am so excited. No, really.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lGVkRlGMVkU/TcgU-TzyfZI/AAAAAAAAACw/29vTwSPId3g/s1600/MAY%2B8%2B145.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 239px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604752796964519314" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lGVkRlGMVkU/TcgU-TzyfZI/AAAAAAAAACw/29vTwSPId3g/s320/MAY%2B8%2B145.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Potty training is intimidating. Especially when you're all on your own as a parent to get it done and can't fall back on the daycare to do the tough part and just follow it up at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Trust me, I got lucky the first time around with Liam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have quite an extensive group of friends who are mothers of children the same age as Nicky. The discussions about potty training have been running rampant for at LEAST a year and a half. Whenever I felt compelled to add in my 2 cents, it was always backed up with the statement "I'll take my cue from him".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or "boys are so much harder to train, it'll be easier to wait till he's a bit older".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or "he won't be going to kindergarten still in diapers".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or "...fill in the blank".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For me, all of those things meant the exact same thing; I know how much work is involved and I'm frankly not interested in trips to the bathroom every 30 seconds. Like, seriously. I would find it annoying if &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; had to visit the bathroom that often. Never mind someone else, even if I love him to distraction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jeff, you're so on your own in another 40 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, I also said if he hadn't started on his own by the time he turned 3 then I would start the process. His birthday has come and gone. And he's still pissing in a diaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went out and picked him up some COOL big boy undies; Buzz Lightyear &amp;amp; Woody, Thomas the Train, and Diego. He went bananas when he saw them and wanted to put them on right away. No no, hold up mister. Mommy needs to be mentally prepared in addition to physically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning marks the start of Operation Slash our Diaper Costs in Half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been...12 minutes. He's peed in the potty once. He's due for another bathroom break in 3 minutes. No accidents so far, which isn't saying much since even a BABY should be able to go 15 minutes between, um, pee breaks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I get to live the next couple weeks of my life in 15 minute increments, combined with an every 2 minute crotch grab. You're all jealous, Iknow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8642917565957392204?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8642917565957392204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8642917565957392204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8642917565957392204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8642917565957392204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/05/i-am-so-excited-no-really.html' title='I am so excited. No, really.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lGVkRlGMVkU/TcgU-TzyfZI/AAAAAAAAACw/29vTwSPId3g/s72-c/MAY%2B8%2B145.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2336492324770126625</id><published>2011-05-03T12:53:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T13:08:59.644-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Weight loss plan, take 8!</title><content type='html'>The prospect of shorts and tank tops has renewed my determination to shed that last 10 pounds. Of course, a winter spent sporadically stuffing my face full of junk has turned that 10 into...15ish, maybe even 20. But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the same old broken record; I need to find a fitness routine that I'll actually stick to. What can I say, I'm a woman! We are allowed to be wishy-washy about things. I earned the right through almost 2 1/2 years of gestating children, wouldn't you say? Not to mention the countless months spent tied to said children, having them dependant on me for nutrition. But that's a whole 'nother post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flavor of the month, my next new thing, the activity that caused Jeff to roll his eyes and silently scoff at me, is swimming. It's not expensive, I have access to lane swimming, aquafit, the pool gym, a running track, and the kicker, a hot tub! It's a 20 minute fast walk, or 10 minute jog, away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't lose. But I'm fully aware of my inability to commit to exercise, I'm just hoping that this grabs me. Oh please, please grab me. Mama needs to get bikini ready.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2336492324770126625?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2336492324770126625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2336492324770126625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2336492324770126625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2336492324770126625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/05/weight-loss-plan-take-8.html' title='Weight loss plan, take 8!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-821040552584116825</id><published>2011-04-28T09:11:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T09:48:42.992-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Crankypants toddlers. I've had my fill of 'em.</title><content type='html'>Woah! How long has it been, 6 or 7 weeks? 2 months? All I can say is, with the end of the winter season drawing to a close, it's been hell on wheels here with trying to keep these children happy and entertained. Damn Canadian 8 month long winters!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But! Now the snow has melted --&amp;gt;tangent: Jeff and I had a bet about whether the mountain of snow in the backyard would melt in time for Nicky's birthday on Saturday. Do I even need to tell you who won?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the snow has melted. And with the melting of the snow comes the dreaded snow mold. I've never paid much mind to people bitching about snow mold and allergies and blah blah blah, but karma is paying me back for that one. It looks like the middle one has allergies. And since we've been outside pretty much every day since it's warmed up enough for me to be happy out there (they don't care, they're kids, I'm selfish), Nicky has started up with the red, watery eyes, the scratching at his face as if he's possessed, runny nose, sneezing, and just general crankiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Claritin. You are my saving grace, especially this morning. I didn't give him his dose last night because I started to doubt whether it was allergies and was thinking it could be an ear infection. In fact, I was convinced of it...for all of 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not anymore. After dealing with a miserable almost 3 year old for close to an hour this morning I had reached my limit. I gave him a dose of Claritin, which he spat out. Then I force fed him another dose and put him back to bed. 15 minutes later his door opened and he came out with a huge smile and told me he felt NICE. Damn kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam was standing beside me in the kitchen throughout all this and asked me if Nicky reminded me of him when he was little. Dudes, I almost had a heart attack at the thought of having a second child that was such a....handful, if we're being nice......in the mornings. I had to clutch the stove and remind myself that this isn't normal for him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I had to give myself a big hug that I'm able to send a cranky child back to bed instead of having to wrangle him into a snowsuit and onto the bus, all the while making sure that his mittens are positioned &lt;em&gt;just so&lt;/em&gt; in order to avoid a tantrum. Which happened anyway. The people on the bus shuddered when they saw me get on, I'm sure. I wouldn't have blamed them if they got off and waited for the next bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I can laugh and joke about it now. Time really does heal all wounds!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-821040552584116825?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/821040552584116825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=821040552584116825' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/821040552584116825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/821040552584116825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/04/crankypants-toddlers-ive-had-my-fill-of.html' title='Crankypants toddlers. I&apos;ve had my fill of &apos;em.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-5556687883541801556</id><published>2011-03-03T20:35:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T21:05:09.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh.</title><content type='html'>Dudes, I don't get sick. Seriously, the last time I got sick was when I was pregnant with Nicky. Before that, I couldn't even tell you. Oh, I get the general not-feeling-well malaise every so often but it never turns into a concrete sickness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently I was a little too cocky. Cuz this has knocked me on my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started out as a flu, minus the stomach ailments. PHEW. That was good for a few days, feverish and totally out of it. Then it turned into a head cold. And the worst stuffed nose in the history of stuffed noses. One night it took me a good 5 hours to fall asleep. I kept popping pills in the hopes of just overloading my body into passing out...and I made some kind of messed up post on facebook railing at my orthodontist from high school. Wtf. What can I say, I was high.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then today. Ya, today. Today is when the previously mentioned stomach ailments decided to pay a visit. My bathroom was a disaster zone, what with the kids having pretty much free reign in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the 2 littles are sick too. From what I can tell, it's just a cold on both their parts and right now I'm listening to Nicky cough up a lung as he's trying to sleep. Poor dude. Josh has a majorly runny nose and that seems to be the extent of his sickness. They're both in pretty good spirits too, considering. I'm pretty sure Liam is going to get hit by this too, but he's at his dads right now so I don't have to worry about him for a few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff hasn't gotten this. Yet. And it's looking like he's holding out, which is AMAZING. Seriously, he's the one that gets sick out of the two of us. But OMG I thank everything above that he's not sick because he's picked up the slack incredibly the past 5 or 6 days. He's gotten up with Josh in the middle of the night so I could sleep. He's taken over when he gets home so that I could sprawl on the couch guilt free. He's made more runs to Safeway for supplies than I can even count. Slurpees for me since my throat hurts so bad. Just overall awesomeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my hope that I'll start turning the corner soon. If for no other reason than this phlegm crap is disgusting and is going to drive me crazy. I'm already gone through one box of Kleenex just on spitting this crap out. Ya, this post is chock full of lovely, appetizing reading isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-5556687883541801556?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/5556687883541801556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=5556687883541801556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5556687883541801556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5556687883541801556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/03/ugh.html' title='Ugh.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8741040301592466076</id><published>2011-02-08T15:40:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T16:36:37.778-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The living room needs a makeover.</title><content type='html'>It's a well known fact that I can't leave anything well enough alone. I've always got to be changing things, moving things around, planning, dreaming. I think it annoyed Jeff for about the first 5 years we were together, now he's all "sure honey, that would look awesome..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I just go with it. I'm 100% capable of moving crap around myself because I've always been like this, but I haven't always had a man around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&gt;tangent: years and years ago I bought myself a bed from Ikea *insert choir of angels* and being the impatient sort I am, decided to jump in and start building it all by myself. Building a double bed complete with headboard, footboard, and side rails is advisable only with TWO people. It even says so on the instructions. However, after a lot of sweat and a frustrated tantrum or 2, I got it done. I rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where were we. Oh yes, I regularily move shit around in my house. But me moving things around doesn't have a whole lot to do with this post. Focus, Chantel. No, this post has more to do with the lack of anything decorative in my living room. Everything kind of looks like it's just floating around in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know Jon &amp;amp; Kate Plus Eight, and how the living room in their old house had a grand total of 3 peices of furniture in it? That's so my living room. A sectional, a shelving system, and a coffee and end table. That's seriously it. And do you know what is on the coffee and end table? Nothing. So 2 out of my 5 peices of furniture are not even functional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame it on my toddlers. Liam was not like this. He was SO MUCH MORE calm. And since I'm inherently lazy and would prefer to parent from the comfort of my butt on the couch, all ornaments and such have found alternative homes on higher surfaces or in boxes in the storage room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm KIDDING about my lazy parenting. Kind of. I'd &lt;em&gt;like&lt;/em&gt; to parent that way but my reality is FAR different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my floating living room is really picking my ass. So I decided to start with something small and put a lamp and knick-knack on the end table and a couple trays and a handmade box on the coffee table and see what would happen. Those kids were all over it in a heartbeat. Banging things around, moving stuff so they could squat in the middle of the table as per usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a little gentle (ha!) reprimanding from yours truly, Nicky quickly got the picture. Josh...we're still working on it. He's pretty stubborn. I'm more stubborn. I'm making it my mission to prevail over the 1 year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, there are a couple more things that need to happen in the living room to take it from "floating" to "what Chantel wants". We (Jeff) need to finish putting baseboards up. And I need to find a bigger area rug. The one we have now, which I love, is just TOO SMALL. I think the rug is what makes everything look like it's just floating around in there. There's no anchor. But it's not easy finding affordable area rugs that are at least 8x10 feet. Lotsa 5x8's, but that's what we have and that's what is too small.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ya, there's really no point to this post except that this is what I've been obsessing over today. And maybe to let Jeff know that this is the direction we'll be going in henceforth? Ya know, with the baseboards and such? And that he also will have to at some point go and pick up whatever rug I find on Kijiji?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have such awesome communication skillz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8741040301592466076?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8741040301592466076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8741040301592466076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8741040301592466076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8741040301592466076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/02/living-room-needs-makeover.html' title='The living room needs a makeover.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8695262423725915583</id><published>2011-01-24T10:14:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T15:35:45.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ch-ch-ch-changes.</title><content type='html'>And not all of them good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will forever remember this weekend as an idyllic break between when Josh woke up multiple times a night, and the real Hell started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll start with the good first. After exactly 16 months of waking up at minimum 4 times a night we decided to implement Operation Cry It Out. It's never easy to try this strategy but I couldn't keep deluding myself that he would 'magically grow out of it'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That kid loves his dee-dee's too much. And the snuggle time with mommy and daddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It went shockingly well. I say that because he's the most stubborn out of the 3 boys by a long shot so I thought this would be a battle. One I was expecting to lose. But no, he loves to keep me on my toes and only put up not much more than a token fuss. Friday was a bit of crying, Saturday was a bit of whining, and last night was...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...nothing? For real? How come I didn't do this 6 months ago?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's really nice and I'm probably jinx-ing myself by announcing it publicly - Jeff is knocking on wood right now. But even if he decides to regress tonight and get me up every hour on the hour, it would be only fitting. And that would be because the Terrible Two's have arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes my friends. I have the bitchiest 16 month old on the planet right now. He's satisfied for a maximum of 3 minutes before he's screaming about something else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He can't get his boot on? Horrors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ghetto-rigged the door to his room so he can't slam it shut? He's flat on the ground wailing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't give him another cookie? Ope, overturned kitchen chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wants my undivided attention and claws at my legs if I'm standing, dolphin rolls on my lap if I'm sitting, and just generally makes himself known in the most annoying.way.possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd think that this stage would have creeped up on us a bit. But no, other than the usual occasionally cranky toddler episode, this pretty much smacked us across the face with a 2x4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silver lining? He knows what time outs mean, and I'm not afraid to use them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8695262423725915583?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8695262423725915583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8695262423725915583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8695262423725915583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8695262423725915583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/01/ch-ch-ch-changes.html' title='Ch-ch-ch-changes.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2861335828702254562</id><published>2011-01-08T08:44:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T09:14:02.872-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Better call Paranormal State, stat!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hoooo&lt;/span&gt; boy am I going to have fun with this one, on SO many different levels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as he likes to insist otherwise, Jeff thinks evil and unexplainable things lurk around every corner. When we bought this house he and a friend found some weird pentagram based candle sticks in the ceiling of our basement. After quickly stuffing them back up there and boarding it up he told me that if anything "off" happened then we were outta here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could go on, the examples are endless. But I would get off track and I really want to tell you what we discovered yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicky has an imaginary friend! Let me introduce you to Max.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as we can tell, Max is a "nice boy" who "runs super fast" and likes to smell stinky &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;poo's&lt;/span&gt;. That's all we really know about him so far, that and the fact that the very idea of an imaginary friend has Jeff's imagination going into o-v-e-r-d-r-i-v-e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wants to research our house to see if there was ever a little boy called Max who lived here and died. Because a ghost is OBVIOUSLY the natural answer to our son having an overactive imagination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait. Maybe he got that from his dad? It's a stretch, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imaginary friends are bred into his genes. I had one, his dad probably had 50, my sister had a couple. No biggie, as long as Max doesn't start flushing toys down the toilet, pouring a 4 litre jug of milk on the floor, or causing general destruction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, my children are hurricanes enough as it is without added interference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But. BUT. This is going to be highly entertaining just for the Jeff value alone. He's already so &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;skeeved&lt;/span&gt; out by the thought that our house is haunted by a ghost that I anticipate endless hours of hilarity. I like to exploit his weaknesses and I can't leave this one alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Nicholas, for being such an awesome kid!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2861335828702254562?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2861335828702254562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2861335828702254562' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2861335828702254562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2861335828702254562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2011/01/better-call-paranormal-state-stat.html' title='Better call Paranormal State, stat!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1345394854367763492</id><published>2010-12-23T14:12:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T14:54:26.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cringe!</title><content type='html'>Right now I'm listening to one of the defining albums of my youth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Live Through This-Hole&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to be Courtney Love SO BAD when I was 16. We had a "band" in high school (in which all 4 of us played the guitar...) and I had visions of myself onstage in a ratted out baby doll with one foot perched on my speaker, screaming into the mic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day my best friend and I sang a song for her uncle and asked him which of our voices sounded the most like Love's voice. Way to put him on the spot huh? He told me my voice was too nice. I vowed that day to chainsmoke until I had that same rasp. Duh, alcoholic and heroin addiction? Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a teaser the other day about finding my diary from 15+ years ago. As embarrassing as it is, and it's TRULY EMBARRASSING, I'm feeling a tad nostalgic. So I'm going to post an excerpt. I had to dig for one that didn't make me want to hit myself in the head too hard. I was such a....teenager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids today think they're emo. They gots nothing on a 16 year old from the 90's. For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;June 11, 1995&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Diary,&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to be calm and cool but I'm SOOO HAPPY (&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;even as a&lt;br /&gt;teenager I wrote in all caps&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;)!!!&lt;br /&gt;Kay, Steve &amp;amp; Alana broke up. I guess it was a while ago, but that's&lt;br /&gt;beside the point. Do you think I'm obsessed? Ya? Oh well. I can remember when I&lt;br /&gt;thought I was over Steve-hah! I just like him so much. I wonder what kind of&lt;br /&gt;kisser he is. I think I could make a relationship with him better than that&lt;br /&gt;bitch Alana. On Friday I did 10 gravol tabs and tripped so bad. God, it was&lt;br /&gt;freaky. I don't know if I'm ever gonna do that again. I hear that Steve does&lt;br /&gt;prescription drugs. I don't know about that guy. Oh well, he can't influence me.&lt;br /&gt;Right? I have a feeling (and it better happen) that he's gonna talk to me this&lt;br /&gt;week. I'll tell you when he does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv Chan&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;June 12, 1995&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dear Diary,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm in a really bitchy mood right now, and I don't know why. So I'm&lt;br /&gt;trying to keep to myself as much as possible. My dear sweet old parents aren't&lt;br /&gt;getting the drift that I like being in my room. "Come outside".  Fuck that!&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll write more later. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;FUCK&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Lovely hey? Ahhhh to be 16 again. And for the record, Steve never did notice me and yes, I WAS obsessed with him all through high school. I wrote a song about how much I hated Alana. I defaced her picture in my yearbook. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1345394854367763492?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1345394854367763492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1345394854367763492' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1345394854367763492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1345394854367763492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/12/cringe.html' title='Cringe!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6981763876166628904</id><published>2010-12-17T14:07:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T14:56:28.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Motherhood is a thankless job.</title><content type='html'>I gave Liam the benefit of the doubt and let him pack his own duffel bag for a 7 day snowboarding trip:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-6 pairs of jeans.&lt;br /&gt;-1 pair of sweats.&lt;br /&gt;-3 pajama pants.&lt;br /&gt;-4 short sleeved shirt (for the MOUNTAINS!!)&lt;br /&gt;-3 pairs of underwear.&lt;br /&gt;-1 pair of socks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ya, and 6 X-Box games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um. Toothbrush and toothpaste? Enough socks and underwear? Maybe a long sleeve shirt or two, and at LEAST one sweater?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like some 11 year olds still need their mommies. Not that there will be even a whisper of appreciation when he gets home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6981763876166628904?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6981763876166628904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6981763876166628904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6981763876166628904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6981763876166628904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/12/mothehood-is-thankless-job.html' title='Motherhood is a thankless job.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8766681155547677103</id><published>2010-12-04T14:06:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-12-04T15:15:26.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shenanigans.</title><content type='html'>I will be the first one to admit that my younger two children are hooligans. I try to deny it and prefer to pretend that other people think they're as cute as we do. In my more lucid moments the reality up and hits me upside the head. They're quite monster-ish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Case in point, and this illustrates my point so precisely that it makes me want to weep;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh was hungry, it wasn't quite lunchtime yet so I set a bowl of cottage cheese on the table for him to eat. I tried to make him sit in his chair so I could strap him in but he was being so damn whiney that I decided to let him sit (stand) on the bench to eat it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff and I were chatting about stuff. The grocery list I think. I was keeping an eye on Josh but he's a wily one and knows that if he's good then my attention wanders and he has a small window of time where he can create mayhem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough a couple minutes pass and then Nicky comes into the kitchen. "Oh my Gawd, my sock is messy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff takes a quick look and wonders out loud how he got cottage cheese, of all things, on his sock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHIT. Yup Josh isn't at the table. I run for paper towels and a wet cloth to clean up whatever disaster has occurred in the living room. Jeff runs to the living room to assess the damage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scene: a bowlful of cottage cheese dumped in the corner of the couch with a nice pile dripping down the back of the couch into a puddle at the bottom of one of the wicker baskets that hold toys. They like to turn the baskets on their side and shove them up to the couch so they can climb up and over the couch. Ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh is happily smooshing the mess around on the floor and Nicky is yelling "bad boy Josh, oh my Gawd you're so messy", while helping smoosh the cottage cheese around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids-1/parents-0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all the people to whom we've subjected our children, we apologize. We know they're unruly, but it's cute. Right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8766681155547677103?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8766681155547677103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8766681155547677103' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8766681155547677103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8766681155547677103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/12/shenanigans.html' title='Shenanigans.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-5115588968324394366</id><published>2010-11-19T09:04:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-19T09:20:32.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Damage control.</title><content type='html'>I broke down the other day and signed up for Weight Watchers again. It irks me to have to do it because I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; what I can and can not be eating. What's high in calories and blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I really want some halloween candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Conscience: you know, you've been eating quite a bit of that stuff in the past few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: It tastes so good. I hardly ever indulge in chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Conscience: but instead of 10 snack size chocolates, how about just 2?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: shut up. I'm PMSing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Conscience: for 2 weeks huh? Whatever you say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: nom nom nom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you didn't guess, that's an example of my internal dialogue. It gotten a little out of hand. And while I realise a 6 pound weight gain over the course of 14 days can't just be attributed to smarties and coffee crisps, it was the catalyst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a visual reminder of where I'm standing on a daily basis. An easy, user-friendly program. So as much as it killed me to spend $85 for 3 months just to reinforce something I already &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt;, it had to be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're back on the bandwagon at 137 pounds as of this past Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I have a coffee addiction. Specifically a coffee creamer addiction. So I decided to not count my creamer in my points. I am breaking the rules. I'm such a rebel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-5115588968324394366?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/5115588968324394366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=5115588968324394366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5115588968324394366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5115588968324394366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/11/damage-control.html' title='Damage control.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-648677619986906027</id><published>2010-11-08T10:01:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T10:21:37.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Neener neener.</title><content type='html'>By no means are my kids good sleepers. Wait, that's not entirely true. Liam is a good sleeper. Then again he's 11 and doesn't need me to hold his hand anymore. So as much as he counts, he doesn't count in this instance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, the needy toddlers are not good sleepers. In a 24 hour period I can count on only a solid 3 hours of not having at least one of them hanging off some part of my body. That would be between when they're put to bed for the night and when Josh wakes up for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the second time. And the third time. And oh wait, lets thrown in just one more, fun times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time change does weird things to kids and none of those weird things are good. Most of them have to do with sleeping patterns getting jacked up and crankiness and much hair pulling of parents. Or so I hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For 11 years I've dreaded time change because of the potential for disaster. All of my kids have naturally put themselves on pretty strict schedules, so a whole hour of change? Lord, there's just no way they should be able to deal with that easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except mine do, with a minimum of fuss. It's not like they didn't have meltdowns or get really tired. They did, but it's so par for the course here that I barely noticed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you want to hit me for escaping time change relatively unscathed? That's okay, I want to hit you for having good sleepers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless you don't have good sleepers and STILL got shafted by time change. In that case you have my permission to call me a smug bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch, since I dared open my mouth about my good fortune I will never have a decent time change experience again. Karma's like that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-648677619986906027?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/648677619986906027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=648677619986906027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/648677619986906027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/648677619986906027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/11/neener-neener.html' title='Neener neener.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-342407359395048457</id><published>2010-11-01T10:20:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T11:09:52.446-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes the coffee just can't brew fast enough.</title><content type='html'>I was expecting a difficult night of sleeping last night. Indeed, if any parent doesn't expect some sort of fall-out from Halloween then they're just naive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sleepless night didn't come from toddlers hopped up on sugar though. I know, it shocked me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed to bed around midnight, as we usually do. I thought my luck had already run out with getting all the kids in to their beds at respectable times without too many tantrums or pouty faces about candy, and was expecting Josh to wake up within the next 30 seconds. So I didn't go to sleep right away and decided to read until he woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;45 minutes later he was still sleeping so I decided that I would just go to sleep too. That's when the snoring started. It wasn't too awful at first, just enough to keep me from actually falling all the way asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along came 1:30. A couple things happened at this point; Josh woke up and I grabbed him and brought him into our bed. And the snoring escalated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started out small. A couple kicks to his shins to get him to shut the hell up. Each kick interrupted the snoring for only about 5 seconds, so I moved on to the gentle shoulder shake. No more success there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, we'll try the combination shoulder shake/whisper to roll over. Keep in mind that I have a restless toddler attached to my boob so I'm trying to not make more noise than necessary. But still no success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this point I'm getting pissy. Josh would be almost fully asleep and then a particularily loud choking/gurgling/snort would wake him up. Is it just me, or is snoring the most disgusting and annoying sound another person can make? It makes my skin crawl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped holding back. A couple shoves to the chest, a few jabs to the side and nothing. Finally a loud command to roll over paired with me physically helping him do so, and he was facing the other way. This usually makes the snoring stop at least long enough for me to fall sleep but not this time. And there was no waking up the man either, he was dead to the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So at 2:15 am, after getting pretty much no sleep yet, I finally gave in and moved to the couch. With the baby. Who is a wiggler. Needless to say, the amount of sleep I got on that couch was not signifigantly more than I would have gotten in bed with my snoring husband, but at least he's still alive today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-342407359395048457?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/342407359395048457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=342407359395048457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/342407359395048457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/342407359395048457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/11/sometimes-coffee-just-cant-brew-fast.html' title='Sometimes the coffee just can&apos;t brew fast enough.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1685766271111378063</id><published>2010-10-25T09:59:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T10:51:10.088-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hanging on to my good mood.</title><content type='html'>All over the place today. There's too much bitchiness in this house to concentrate on just one thing. I have about 30 seconds in between running interference on these children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snow. It's so beautiful and white and pretty. It also causes my 2 year old to go nuts and whine and cry at the window because he wants to go &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;outsiiiiide&lt;/span&gt;. So far I've fetched 6 snowballs just to shut him up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is working to shut up the youngest one. I'm in the process of cutting out the morning nap in the hopes that the afternoon nap and bedtime goes more smoothly. You can only imagine his state right now. Tired and cranky doesn't even begin to describe. Right now he's got his head buried in my back and is crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, did you know that it's always your fault if your child forgets to set his alarm clock and wakes up 15 minutes before he's supposed to be out the door to school? I was reminded of that fact this morning. The atmosphere around here was eerily similar to every morning for the first 7 years of his life, a time that I never ever ever want to go back to. Horrors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me? I'm doing pretty good! These kids can't get me down, no matter how hard they try. I lost 3 pounds in the last week and so I'm well on my way to getting rid of that last 13 pounds that I mentioned a couple posts ago. Go Me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1685766271111378063?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1685766271111378063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1685766271111378063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1685766271111378063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1685766271111378063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/10/hanging-on-to-my-good-mood.html' title='Hanging on to my good mood.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-467247264761295719</id><published>2010-10-20T15:24:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T16:19:34.933-06:00</updated><title type='text'>No excuses not to get all my chores done now...damn.</title><content type='html'>I'm always on the lookout for ways to try and organize my life. For this reason, checklists really appeal to me&lt;strong&gt;. &lt;/strong&gt;They also speak to the rule follower in me. Because deep down I'm a huge prissy rule follower. And checklists make me feel like I've broken the rules if I haven't done everything on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was surfing around on the net a couple nights ago, I stumbled on a site called Motivated Moms. I would link to it but I don't know how to. Feel free to educate me on how to do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on, I came across this site. It has a downloadable calendar that spells it all out for you. Hell ya! Here's my $2, thanks PayPal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's pretty plain jane though, so I decided to fancy it up with some paper and whatnot, glued some magnets onto the back and voila:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=oct20004.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/oct20004.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since this is a crafty kinda post, I also wanted to share the page I made last night of my little bundle of awesomeness, Josh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=oct20005.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/oct20005.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd just like to tell Jess, I tried to make it bigger but it just ended up cutting off half the picture. Sorry dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, thanks for looking at my craftiness!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-467247264761295719?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/467247264761295719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=467247264761295719' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/467247264761295719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/467247264761295719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/10/im-always-on-lookout-for-ways-to-try.html' title='No excuses not to get all my chores done now...damn.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8745057498033783455</id><published>2010-10-19T12:54:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T13:11:15.907-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wowzers.</title><content type='html'>Time to talk about laundry. My life revolves around laundry for the first couple days of every week. I wake up on Monday mornings resolved to do better! and get it all done! in one day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got a pretty good system down but there's just so damn much of it. For a family of 5 we've got: whites, reds/oranges, greens/blues, darks, jeans, towels, and two complete loads of miniature humans clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a lot, but that's not it. Add in the bedding: our king size set takes two seperate loads, then Liam's bedding, and then those darn mini humans again in one more load.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 2 3....8 9...11...12. Wait. Did I count that right? Yup. 12 loads of laundry every week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself when it's not all completed in one day. I never realised just how many loads there were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to expand upon this post about how proud I was that I took my moms advice and ironed my sheets and pillowcases this time around. But maybe I should just stop here and go downstairs and switch over the load.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good plan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8745057498033783455?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8745057498033783455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8745057498033783455' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8745057498033783455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8745057498033783455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/10/wowzers.html' title='Wowzers.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-940534916343501818</id><published>2010-10-07T09:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T11:04:08.836-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Turning over another new leaf.</title><content type='html'>It's time to get back in the saddle. From January to June-ish I dropped a total of 31 pounds which is awesome. Go Me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From June-ish to now I've managed to gain back 5 of those pounds. That may not seem too bad but dudes, let's do the math. If I can gain 5 pounds in 4 months then in a year I will have gained 15 pounds. In 5 years that's 75 pounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kill me now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's those damn chips. I'm not picky, I'll eat any kind. I do prefer some tasty salt &amp;amp; vinegar but if all that's left is bbq well frick, pass 'em on over this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I've got a hankering for some nacho's with cheese melted all over them and a couple of sides of salsa and sour cream, bring it on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've sent Jeff to the store at 10 pm to pick me up some chips and a slurpee. Without even the excuse of being pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The difference between my eating habits now and my eating habits 9 months ago is, when I put a single chip in my mouth I know exactly how bad it is and I have to ask myself "is this really worth it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, yes. Yes, yes, 1000 times yes. Literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not any more though, I just have to find the willpower somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, 133 pounds. Here we go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-940534916343501818?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/940534916343501818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=940534916343501818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/940534916343501818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/940534916343501818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/10/turning-over-another-new-leaf.html' title='Turning over another new leaf.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-5223761996912424055</id><published>2010-10-04T13:42:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T14:14:31.662-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hippies are really just lazy people.</title><content type='html'>Josh just celebrated his 1st birthday and he's still 150% attached to the boob. It's the longest I've been able to nurse any of my babies and there's no end in sight. It doesn't stress me out anymore though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joked this weekend at his party that he'd be 4 and still nursing. My sister freaked out even though she knows I'm JOKING. And then she called me a hippie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her reasoning? And keep in mind that this is gathered over the course of many daily conversations during which we discuss our completely opposite methods of parenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I breastfeed, happily! &lt;em&gt;It's taken me a mother effing long time to accept it though&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I (used to) use cloth diapers. &lt;em&gt;But then I got lazy about washing diapers for 2 kids and just bought disposables.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guage my youngins health by inspecting their bowel movements. &lt;em&gt;That one I'll admit is kinda gross. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I co-sleep. &lt;em&gt;Another example of laziness, I can't imagine waking up in the middle night and trying to stay awake during a feeding in order to lay the sweet little bambino back in his crib&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't run to the doctor's office every time they get a sniffle, instead letting their body's fight infection on their own if at all possible. &lt;em&gt;This one is mostly because I have a big fat mental block on taking any kind of medicine. I make an exception for Tylenol during teething however. I'm not a martyr.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm about as relaxed as if I HAD actually just smoked a big fatty when it comes to them licking juice off the sidewalk or eating sand from the backyard. &lt;em&gt;...again, could be the laziness kicking in. I brush it off by saying I'm allowing them to build up their immune systems&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, while I admit I do approach parenting in a more earthy and casual manner it's probably just laziness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-5223761996912424055?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/5223761996912424055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=5223761996912424055' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5223761996912424055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5223761996912424055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/10/hippies-are-really-just-lazy-people.html' title='Hippies are really just lazy people.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7476595534166280950</id><published>2010-09-30T09:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T10:42:06.672-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Aw fuckit"</title><content type='html'>My 2 year old uses potty language appropriately. Oh dear lord. He uses it to express his anger or frustration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll admit, it's kinda cute to witness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll also admit, Jeff and I don't really censor our language around here. In my case, a quick "oh for FUCK sake" releases some of the tension of a situation and allows me to gain some patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me, I have learned patience over the years of being a parent and it definitely did NOT come naturally. I'm not patient by nature. Impatience is a key personality trait of mine. Anyone close to me will confirm this truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suspect that in Jeff's case it's much the same, except the explosion would be a little more like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My reaction x 1 billion = the world falling of it's axis and getting sucked into a black hole and now the world has come to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, perhaps a little dramatic. And I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we swear here. Some more than others. We've tried policing our language but it's hard and we haven't been too successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's the new plan. We're just ignoring it until he's a bit older, then soap in the mouth if he hasn't outgrown this phase. If that doesn't work, last resort is duct tape over the mouth. That'll learn 'im.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam tested me only once with the soap and never again. Heck, the kid even broke down in tears one time when I asked him to repeat something another child had said, and it turned out the other kid had taken the lord's name in vain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously Liam? Over that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's not PC, and that's okay. I'm not trying to win any parenting awards. And I'm pretty okay with admitting to my hypocrisy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7476595534166280950?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7476595534166280950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7476595534166280950' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7476595534166280950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7476595534166280950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/09/aw-fuckit.html' title='&quot;Aw fuckit&quot;'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6559854212164592922</id><published>2010-09-23T14:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T14:37:57.765-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Major eye rolling situation.</title><content type='html'>I don't understand the mental block most men have against buying feminine products for their spouses. Or maybe it's just mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are they &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; about it? Is it because all men are 13 year old girls at heart? That's about the last time I blushed when buying a personal item like TAMPONS. That's right, I said it out loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would have been so easy. He was already at Safeway. The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;feminine&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;hygiene&lt;/span&gt; isle is on the way to the (SELF) checkout. I was on the phone with him and could have walked him through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope. Now I have to either a) load the kids into the stroller and head to the store myself, or b) wait until tomorrow night when we can load the kids into the truck and make a family adventure out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Welp&lt;/span&gt;, it's kind of a situation that's not going to wait till tomorrow night so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks honey ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6559854212164592922?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6559854212164592922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6559854212164592922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6559854212164592922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6559854212164592922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/09/major-eye-rolling-situation.html' title='Major eye rolling situation.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8759681710711452128</id><published>2010-09-17T15:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T16:27:38.704-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The fall-out.</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, 2:00 p.m., via phone:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: so how are the boys?&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Great! They're both sleeping right now.&lt;br /&gt;Me: What?! Mom, Nicky doesn't nap anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Ohhhhh. Okay, he's only been sleeping for an hour. I'll go wake him up.&lt;br /&gt;Me: *head/desk*&lt;br /&gt;---------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The consequences of that teeny tiny little nap have been epic. Last night, delayed bedtime, repeated turning on of lights in his room, climbing into his brother's crib as he's sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, more of the same. Whining. Clinging. And a meltdown to rival those of his big brother in his heyday. It was a doozy that lasted approximately 1 hour, topped off with 4 consecutive time outs until he got the message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Ironically, during his tantrum I decided to get him dressed since he was already freaking out. That was the only time during the whole hour that he shut up**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I could've sworn that sometime in the past week it has come up in conversation with my mom that we've cut out naps. I mean, we talk daily. I'm sure I've bitched about how hard it is now going the whole day without a break. She played it off pretty well though, that this was the first she'd heard of this 'no-nap' business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really blame her though. Seriously? I think this is one of those grandparent perks you hear of. You don't have to deal with the fall-out and get to send them back to the parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my kids are a handful. I'd nap them too if I wasn't their parent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8759681710711452128?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8759681710711452128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8759681710711452128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8759681710711452128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8759681710711452128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/09/fall-out.html' title='The fall-out.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6454256692552708238</id><published>2010-09-14T20:10:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T20:36:06.804-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My day in pictures.</title><content type='html'>Should've known by this face, what direction this day was going to take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=sept14101-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/sept14101-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turns the basket on it's side so he can reach up onto the higher shelves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=sept14124.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/sept14124.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're just wild.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=sept14142.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/sept14142.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 minutes on his own in my craft area. Free reign of the house privileges have been rescinded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=sept14104.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/sept14104.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I even say to this. He's worse than a puppy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=sept14129.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/sept14129.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, please, PLEASE, let these teeth come through soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=sept14144.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/sept14144.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This should be me at this point, not him. Stick a fork in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=sept14106.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/sept14106.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God not every day is like today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6454256692552708238?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6454256692552708238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6454256692552708238' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6454256692552708238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6454256692552708238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-day-in-pictures.html' title='My day in pictures.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7553266593873101021</id><published>2010-09-10T12:44:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T14:58:55.039-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pass me the coffee .</title><content type='html'>We're on day 3 of no naps for Nicky. Let me tell you, I've never been so exhausted in my life. Not even right after Josh was born and I was wrangling a toddler and newborn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my ME time. It was the time of day that I didn't have to talk to or take care of anyone. My lunch hour, if you will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is worth it though. If I can just get through the witching hours of 4-7, of which I count down every.single.minute., then he has gone to sleep like a charm. KNOCK ON WOOD. None of this getting out of bed and playing with his toys or taking off his pj's and diaper and wrapping himself in the blanket and then peeing on his carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and he's actually slept on his bed the past 2 nights as well. Seems like a no-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;brainer&lt;/span&gt;, except every single night he takes his pillow and blanket and lays down on the floor. And then we have to move him before we go to bed. Which I guess isn't that big of a deal but it's annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, after 3 months of Nicholas taking on average of an hour and a half to fall asleep, it now takes him 2 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next up, training the boys to sleep in the same room. I haven't figured out which one I'm going to put to bed first at night. Josh is pretty good at putting himself to sleep although once he wakes up during the night he will not go back down on his own. Nicky now goes to sleep easily too. We'll see, whichever order I pick I'm sure it will backfire on me and it'll have to go the other way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime I'm still pretty damn tired. I suppose I'll get used to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7553266593873101021?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7553266593873101021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7553266593873101021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7553266593873101021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7553266593873101021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/09/pass-me-coffee.html' title='Pass me the coffee .'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8148309975612331041</id><published>2010-08-26T13:55:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T14:22:36.764-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday mini-albums.</title><content type='html'>I got this idea from the Dear Lizzy website (I'm blog challenged and don't know how to link) so I rushed out to buy some adhesive fabric paper and sat down with scrap paper and embellies and these were the result!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first one is what I made for my sister Kathleen, and has photo's of her kids Khyler and Kinlee, and her nephew Jacob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=2010-08-05aug51.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/2010-08-05aug51.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one was what I made for my mom. It's got my 3 kiddo's in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=2010-08-05aug5.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/2010-08-05aug5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the last one was what I made for Diane, my mother-in-law. Special appearance by Jeff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=2010-07-21july21.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/2010-07-21july21.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like Picasa decided to crop my photo's as I was making the collages. Ah well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8148309975612331041?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8148309975612331041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8148309975612331041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8148309975612331041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8148309975612331041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/08/birthday-mini-albums.html' title='Birthday mini-albums.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8604986536083579126</id><published>2010-08-25T09:57:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T10:13:45.766-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Phew!</title><content type='html'>It's official, my new haircut truly is kick ass. I washed it last night and this morning I wet it down again and attempted to style it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all know that it's impossible to re-create the style you left the salon with. That's why, as much as I loved the cut, I was a little nervous. And I don't own a round brush, which apparently you need to give your hair volume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I muddled through it with my trusty little Goody brush and I'm happy to report that it looks as close as possible to how it looked on Monday. Meaning, it looks awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is a good thing because this is definitely not a wash-and-go cut. In fact, this is a put-on-makeup-and-get-out-of-those-sweats cut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dammit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8604986536083579126?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8604986536083579126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8604986536083579126' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8604986536083579126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8604986536083579126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/08/phew.html' title='Phew!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6988098846560576919</id><published>2010-08-22T13:10:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T13:27:04.949-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Excuse me, I'm a little sleepy.</title><content type='html'>Sleep is supposed to restful, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have gotten used to nursing a child through the night, I can even manage the one-eyed stumble over to the crib to grab his screaming body at 1 am without too much interruption to my sleeping state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is not so easy to manage is a 6 foot male, an 11 month old that likes to sleep sideways, a toddler that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;neeeeeds&lt;/span&gt; to sleep next to me, and myself...all on a double bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four years ago when we bought our new mattress set I was absolutely not thinking long term and since I already had a double bed frame it only followed that we would buy a double mattress and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;boxspring&lt;/span&gt;. I wasn't thinking babies or co-sleeping or anything beyond the fact that I was making my &lt;em&gt;very first grown up purchase&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know we need to buy a king size set. A couple of things make me hesitant to do it though: our room is not large. A king size would eat up all available space and force us to move the crib into Nicky's room, where Josh's &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;nighttime&lt;/span&gt; screaming would likely wake him up before I could dash in there and grab him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although...Nicky is already waking up and coming into our bed about 50% of the time. Okay, next argument.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about what potential buyers would see when they're looking at our home. No, we don't plan on listing soon but it's going to happen sometime in the next 1.5 years and a king would make our small room look even smaller. Is this even a valid concern? It's not like we have little man syndrome, we know our home is small. I'm just trying to see it through a buyer's perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of new homes, I kind of wanted a new bedroom set to be part of us making the next move into our next place. Something shiny and pretty and new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But. My aching back and shoulders. Jeff's aching back and shoulders. Nicky falling on the floor repeatedly because he insists on sleeping next to me instead of next to his dad in the middle. Josh being a crazy sideways-sleeping monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Liam would be thrilled to inherit our old set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decisions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6988098846560576919?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6988098846560576919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6988098846560576919' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6988098846560576919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6988098846560576919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/08/excuse-me-im-little-sleepy.html' title='Excuse me, I&apos;m a little sleepy.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-56122165896619632</id><published>2010-08-19T16:13:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T16:31:08.925-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Some lessons aren't worth it.</title><content type='html'>I had an a-ha! moment a couple months ago and called our local free paper to sign Liam up to do a paper route. Once a week he'd have to stuff &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;flyers&lt;/span&gt; into a newspaper and deliver them to about 90 houses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is perfect, I thought. It's maybe 3-4 hours of work a week and will teach him a valuable lesson about earning money. He's 11, he's more than capable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the one who ended up learning a lesson: don't do anything so damn stupid again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a headache from the get go. It was reminiscent of me sitting him down to do his homework with him. The huffing and puffing and slamming things around when he's forced to do something he doesn't want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They never got done on the day they were supposed to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took him 4 hours just to stuff the papers if I didn't help him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; A couple times I ended up delivering them myself (or putting them in the recycle but &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;shhh&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday after fighting with him for the umpteenth time to just get it done and by-god-if-you-huff-one-more-time-I-swear-you'll-regret-it, I decided that the lesson wasn't worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fired off an email to the coordinator telling her effective immediately we wouldn't be delivering the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;flyers&lt;/span&gt; anymore. She called me and suckered me into doing it just one more week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, though, we're free. I haven't told him yet but something tells me he won't be heartbroken.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-56122165896619632?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/56122165896619632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=56122165896619632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/56122165896619632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/56122165896619632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/08/some-lessons-arent-worth-it.html' title='Some lessons aren&apos;t worth it.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6004764059258821327</id><published>2010-08-05T11:44:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T12:02:24.128-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Some craftiness.</title><content type='html'>In my 'about me' it says that I'm a scrapbooker. And it's true, I love to do it. My mojo has taken a vacation lately though, and while I have tried to force myself to work through it I really haven't been satisfied with much that I've turned out in the past 6 months or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started to come back when I made some mini albums for my mom, mother in law, and sister. I got really exited to share them, they turned out SO nicely. I'll share the pictures from that little project another day since there's lots of 'em.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I sat down with a picture of our wedding. I don't get to use pink very often, being the mother of all boys, so I went a little crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=aug5246.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/aug5246.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then last night I was looking at a challenge for Mission Create and inspiration struck again. I used 4 out of the 5 prompts only because I don't have any bingo cards. I sanded the photo on the right, made a couple flowers out of tissue paper (2 birds with 1 stone baby!) and stamped it up with ink. This is one of my favorite LO's to date!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=aug5245.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/aug5245.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I make a page that has a lot of white space Jeff makes sure to comment on it, asking if I'm "done". For a long time it made me think that maybe I needed to do more to my pages and so I would struggle and try to fill it up. But it's just not me, not always. And another scrapper finally put into words what I never could: white space is itself a design element. So there Jeff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally, I am also working on Josh's birth announcement. It's done in crosstitch and will probably take me a year but it's super cute and I'm very exited to finally start it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=aug5247.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/aug5247.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's where I am with stuff. I'm glad that my energy levels are picking up so I can spend more time in my craft room!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6004764059258821327?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6004764059258821327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6004764059258821327' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6004764059258821327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6004764059258821327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/08/some-craftiness.html' title='Some craftiness.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7087485393045559404</id><published>2010-08-03T13:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T13:44:49.727-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Random ramblings.</title><content type='html'>Why is there such a thing as a sticky floor? I hate mopping. I wish I could put my kids in bubbles until they're old enough to learn table manners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does my house seem to throw up laundry? I've done 2 loads a day for the last week and I've still got 3 loads sitting downstairs waiting their turn to get cleaned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it count if I planned to iron all of Jeff's clothes? Even if I didn't actually get around to it for whatever reason (ie. laziness).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are ALL 11 year old boys so loud and messy? And wtf is up with wanting to stay inside and play all day, get yer butts outside and ride to the park! Granted it's not that nice today but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I've got for now. My youngest demon has woken up and saved me from an afternoon of cleaning. Think I'll go give him a big smooch!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7087485393045559404?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7087485393045559404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7087485393045559404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7087485393045559404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7087485393045559404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/08/random-ramblings.html' title='Random ramblings.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1846066190794340929</id><published>2010-07-30T08:04:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T08:57:33.017-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The novelty has completely worn off.</title><content type='html'>How do you explain consequences to a 10 month old?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like, if they manage to climb up onto their brothers toddler bed they have to climb back down properly or else they will end up with a face full of floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep. It was cute a couple days ago when he started showing off his newly discovered skill of climbing. It quickly became a nightmare in which I envision trips to the ER because my baby has a broken nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been so proud of the little guy being so advanced with his major motor skills (I think that's what they're called, or maybe I just made that up) that this possibility never entered my mind. Yes, Nicky did walk pretty early too but we didn't have such a low surface for him to master. He tried the stairs but those are easily managed with a baby gate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm at a loss on how to fix this "problem". I thought I could flip Nicky's bed around so the opening is facing the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an opening on the other side too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. How about teach him how to get down properly so that he escapes injury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1059 times later of flipping him on his belly and dragging his feet until they touch the floor, it's just not getting through to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmph. Let's just shut the door to the bedroom and put a child lock on it so that big brother can't open it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCREAMING. Oh the horror of not being able to freely access the toys in the bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a last resort I have dragged the (thin) rug over to the bed and laid a pillow beside the bed to cushion his nosedives. I have to go in every 30 seconds to make sure Nicky hasn't run away with it. It would be nice if I didn't have anything else to do and could just watch over him. Unrealistic however.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time ever, I'm wishing he couldn't even crawl yet. This is exasperating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1846066190794340929?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1846066190794340929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1846066190794340929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1846066190794340929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1846066190794340929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/07/novelty-has-completely-worn-off.html' title='The novelty has completely worn off.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3214060538745835480</id><published>2010-07-25T09:38:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T10:25:07.159-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Highlights from my night out.</title><content type='html'>-the DJ totally catering to the cougar crowd (us) and playing music from my early 20's. It got us in the mood for dancing and by the time he was playing current songs that I didn't know, I was drunk enough to not care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-finding out that for a mere 50 cents more, I could turn my double vodka paralyzer into a triple. Score!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-turning around every 5 minutes and seeing good friends that I wasn't expecting to run into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-my awesome friends who understand that Chantel + a couple drinks = one lippy chick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** To the Fred Durst look-alike that came up to us while we were waiting for a cab, I was a super bitch, sorry. It's just...I have a low tolerance for BS and you weren't gonna get any action from any of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-the old Indie dude that kept dancing with Jessica. Hilarious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-putting $5 in the VLT and cashing out with $40. Paid for my night out besides the cab home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-my awesome husband who didn't act annoyed as I stumbled around in the dark, stepping on toys and almost killing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was totally worth the sluggish feeling and headache I have right now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3214060538745835480?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3214060538745835480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3214060538745835480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3214060538745835480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3214060538745835480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/07/highlights-from-my-night-out.html' title='Highlights from my night out.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8194549556778651607</id><published>2010-07-13T12:31:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T13:03:45.796-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Words cannot even describe how excited I am!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=july13010.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/july13010.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy early Birthday to me! I'd take a picture of my new baby but I don't think I'll ever use another camera again. A picture of my new camera bag will have to suffice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hubs blew my socks of yesterday when he came home with a Canon EOS Rebel XS all for me. It's what I've wanted for almost as long as he's known me but with this, that, and the other, it just has never been an option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But because he loves me and wanted to finally one-up me on a gift, he made the sacrifice of going into some personal debt to get me my dream present. Aw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, some may say this is the ultimate suck up gift after he blew it big time last week. Flowers pfffft. Now, a camera. That is a genuine sorry, with a couple hundred cherry's thrown on top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually the thought never even crossed either of our minds until a friend pointed it out. Alas, no. That incident has already been forgotten and truly wasn't THAT big of a deal that it would need to be smoothed over with such an expensive present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty sure that I'll get some kind of flowers next time though. Just sayin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the Best. Present. Ever. In the history of all my presents. I'm in love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8194549556778651607?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8194549556778651607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8194549556778651607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8194549556778651607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8194549556778651607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/07/words-cannot-even-describe-how-excited.html' title='Words cannot even describe how excited I am!!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2627824667116786650</id><published>2010-07-05T10:39:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-07-05T12:49:00.383-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I promise this time it's different.</title><content type='html'>I'm well aware that I'm chock-full of good intentions. Generally, though, I lack the motivation to actually follow through on these things I come up with. Really it seeps into all areas of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flylady-did it for about 2 weeks then got bored and stopped. My house is no cleaner, I'm just more aware of my 'hot spots'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30 Day Shred-did it once, just once. Used a lack of good support in the bosom area as an excuse to not continue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weight Watchers-well, this one I actually did well on. But I didn't renew my subscription, instead choosing to rely on an iphone app that just isn't as user friendly and therefore more of a pain in the ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me introduce you to my latest good intention: the C25K program. I'm well aware of my track record. Jeff is probably shaking his head right now, but that's why I haven't actually said it out loud to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The goal is to start next Monday. That gives me a week to flip back and forth over doing this, and also enough time for me to get some running shoes and the afore-mentioned bosom support. And hopefully that'll be enough time to recruit a running buddy. JESS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*oh ya, and I finally checked my weight again. Now at 129. New goal, since I've met my original one (130) is 120 AND a flat tummy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2627824667116786650?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2627824667116786650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2627824667116786650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2627824667116786650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2627824667116786650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-promise-this-time-its-different.html' title='I promise this time it&apos;s different.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6581460211360922459</id><published>2010-06-23T11:52:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T12:32:17.931-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm lazy. There, I said it.</title><content type='html'>As I'm sitting here looking at the toys strewn about my living room, I like to ponder the incredible guilt I feel at not being as accomplished a housewife as I somehow think I should be. I've got some mighty big shoes to fill when it comes to keeping a tidy house, namely Jeff's mom and my dad. Oh, and Jeff too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wait. Does it really count towards being a clean person if you don't actually clean? Jeff? Cuz honey, you may put things back where they belong right away so that there's no clutter...but can you remember the last time you took a dust rag to the furniture, turned on a vaccum, or filled a pail with soapy water? How 'bout the toilet downstairs, hmm?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only point these things out so that I can try to feel less guilty for being a lazy ass. One could say that since he goes out to work and earns the money for our family, that it is then my duty to keep house and raise our kids. And I would agree to a certain extent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only...when we were both working full-time I still did it all. Ponder that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and in addition to being a mediocre housewife, I'm also a master procrastinator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was supposed to go for a walk to Londonderry after the boys ate lunch, except Nicky made a huge mess that requires some mopping to clean up. So I decided to put off the walk till tomorrow so that I could clean while the boys were sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I poured myself a coffee (because I'm tired as f*** lately) and sat down to check my facebook and blog a little. It's now 45 minutes later and all I want to do is lay down on the couch and have a nap. And put off the cleaning that I put off the walk for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except if I do that, then it won't get done until the boys are in bed. And it won't actually happen then because I haven't got an ounce of energy by that point of the day. So then we'll start the whole cycle again tomorrow and blah blah blah. Except instead of dealing with easy to clean up oatmeal all over the place I'll have to get down on my hands and knees and scrape off crusty hardened up crap from the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh. Maybe I'll just go and get it done now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6581460211360922459?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6581460211360922459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6581460211360922459' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6581460211360922459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6581460211360922459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/06/im-lazy-there-i-said-it.html' title='I&apos;m lazy. There, I said it.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-5702358368313872602</id><published>2010-06-12T18:45:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T19:22:42.229-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One can dream.</title><content type='html'>I sincerely wish I had inherited my mom's green thumb. That woman could spend her whole life outside, tending to her garden and flower beds, ignoring the phone, and she would die happy. Severe seasonal allergies? She laughs in the face of pollen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, it's just not the case. The bugs! The dirt! The sore knees! Oh ya, and the bugs! As I was pulling weeds out of my low-maintenance rock beds today I had the heebie-jeebies so bad that all I wanted to do was run inside and away from those nasty centipedes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that peonys (peonies?) attract ants? I've got two of these monsters in my front yard and I forgot to put the rings around them when they were smaller. I decided to do it today, took one look at the army of ants swarming on them, and walked away. Whatever, they can droop. I'm not touching the ants, frig that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried manipulating my mom into coming over here and doing my gardening for me. She humors me and tells me she'll do it...but it hasn't happened yet. Don't think I haven't noticed MOM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'll just have to accept the fact that I'll never have one of those yards with the riots of beautiful colors. I've tried before, even gone so far as to buy flowers with full intentions of planting them but they just sat in their little container thingys until they died. Pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This makes me far more depressed than you'll ever know. I want to have a green thumb!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-5702358368313872602?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/5702358368313872602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=5702358368313872602' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5702358368313872602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5702358368313872602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/06/one-can-dream.html' title='One can dream.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1478367297054459111</id><published>2010-06-10T07:52:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T08:19:57.837-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Totally realistic.</title><content type='html'>I installed an app on my phone that tracks my walks for me. Route, time, distance, etc.. I also have it set up to publish straight to my facebook status exactly when I've started and when I've ended my walk. If you click on the link from my facebook page it takes you to google where you can actually view my route with real pictures of my neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I'm generally trusting and oblivious by nature, the obvious never occured to me. I mean, really, how could I be so naive to not think of every possible scenerio. This next thing is probably going to happen to me the next time I go for a walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of Jeff's psycho ex's will stalk me out on facebook because I don't have my privacy settings high enough, and will see that I've started a walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She'll jump in her car and track me down to where I'm walking with my 2 children in a stroller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She'll murder me and kidnap the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She'll blackmail Jeff into being with her by threatening the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...okay, I made up the blackmailing part but I guarantee, given enough time, Jeff would have gotten that far when he was thinking this shit up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the same man who thinks it's a reasonable idea to put GPS trackers in our kids pockets when they're at school-sitting in their classrooms, mind you-because one time a couple years ago, there was this one girl who was snatched from the bathroom at school. By her uncle, he thinks. But if our kids are GPS chip-enabled, WHEN they're kidnapped we can avoid the Amber Alerts and know exactly where to find them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is why fate brought us together, so I could tone down the crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1478367297054459111?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1478367297054459111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1478367297054459111' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1478367297054459111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1478367297054459111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/06/totally-realistic.html' title='Totally realistic.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2620696287580806512</id><published>2010-06-03T13:31:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T13:49:46.458-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Two more days, I can make it!</title><content type='html'>Today has been kicking my ass so far. Between the younger boys getting over colds, the older boys in the midst of colds, teething, and the bank messing up our account AGAIN, I just want to close my eyes and make it all dissappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay that's a bit dramatic, I realise. Things are going okay &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;now&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, but if you'd asked me 2 hours ago how I was doing it would have been a different story. It's amazing what bitching out a bank can accomplish and how quickly it can turn your attitude around. Add sleeping children, and I no longer want to commit suicide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is a good thing since I don't know what my family would do without me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I get a break this weekend! I'm going out to a birthday party and then dancing with some good friends. Jeff and I have agreed that short of an emergency where he has to take the kids to the hospital, he's not calling me. There will be tears, to be sure, but they won't be MY tears. Unless they're tears of happiness because I'll have a couple hours of freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*and for those still interested, I've been holding steady between 130-132 for the past 3 weeks or so. Once the weather starts co-operating I plan on walking with the kids in the mornings. I say that..but I say many things that don't actually happen. We'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2620696287580806512?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2620696287580806512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2620696287580806512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2620696287580806512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2620696287580806512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/06/two-more-days-i-can-make-it.html' title='Two more days, I can make it!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-488101137279658543</id><published>2010-05-21T12:34:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T13:07:48.881-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep training sucks. And works.</title><content type='html'>I have a weird relationship with the concept of sleep training. With each child I've started out completely opposed to the idea, and then reality gave a swift kick in the rear. It's essential, at least for my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liam had it the hardest, I think. On the one hand he was the best sleeper as an infant. He ended up sttn on his own at around 7 months. On the other hand, I had to sleep train him as a toddler when he started the bad habit of insisting I fall asleep with him nightly on his little, tiny, uncomfortable toddler bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep training a toddler sucks balls. There was about a week there, where I'd put him to bed, read a story, kiss him...and then book it like hell out of his room to the hallway where I had a book waiting for me. I'd sit down on the floor with one hand on the doorknob and hang on for dear life. The sound of a toddler throwing the tantrum to end all tantrums was heartbreaking to hear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was young and was pretty much going by instinct. This method, while it feels crude and cruel now, was all I had. I had nothing else. But I told myself I'd never use CIO out again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along came Nicky. While Liam was easy as an infant, Nicky was stubborn. That kid hated to sleep from the get go. And eventually sleep training entered the picture again. This time I tried a modified version where I checked on him at intervals. That just pissed him off though, so I settled for peeking in his room to make sure he was safe. While the huge tantrums of the first few days tapered off, he continued to put up a token fight for months. None of this magical "3 days and they're good to go" crap I'd been hearing. We started when he was around 9 months and he was successfully sleeping through the night by 15 months. 3 days my ASS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now with my sweet little Josh. He'll fall asleep okay....sometimes. He'll sleep a good chunk of time....sometimes. He's not consistent and by the end of the day if he's not falling asleep I'm just about ready to lose it. He's very clingy, so clingy baby + daredevil toddler + lippy pre-teen = mom who's absolutely done by the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat on the phone with my mom the other night and was all but crying to her about how frustrated I am, she tried to comfort me by telling me that it's not the end of the world and he'd grow out of this stage. That's when it hit me. My child not sleeping IS the end of my world. When my whole world is my children, then the universe needs to give me a flipping break. Let them develop good sleeping habits so that I can continue to be the fun, patient mom that I need to be. The mom that I AM most of the day, until 8 o'clock hits and Josh is still awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ya, all that to say...we've started sleep training for the 3rd and final time. Thank the good dear Lord.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-488101137279658543?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/488101137279658543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=488101137279658543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/488101137279658543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/488101137279658543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/05/sleep-training-sucks-and-works.html' title='Sleep training sucks. And works.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-5381148762692988989</id><published>2010-05-19T16:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T16:46:42.209-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty feet and peanut butter.</title><content type='html'>I had the half-hearted intention of conducting an experiment. It involved mopping my floors every day for the week to see if that would get Jeff to stfu about my dirty feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I concluded after day 2 that it's just not a reasonable expectation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, it would involve mopping ALL my floors daily. Bedrooms, living room, kitchen, bathroom, entire basement. Because I am all over the house throughout the day, outside too, and I never ever wear socks or shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me Brittney Spears, but I'll never have clean feet. Jeff can just accept it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, after at least a year of trying, I have finally been successful in convincing Nicky that peanut butter is delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a trick to get him to try new food. Hold whatever the food is on your finger in front of his face. Wait for him to start screaming because you're obviously trying to KILL him. Quickly stick finger with food on it inside his mouth and directly on the tongue. Pull finger out as fast as possible to avoid being bitten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now wait for the reaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nine times out of ten he'll wipe his tongue while shrieking because AHH we're POISONING HIM. Every so often though, he'll shock us and actually like what we're trying to introduce. And that's what happened with the peanut butter today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus it's funny as hell watching him freak out. I gotta get it on video.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-5381148762692988989?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/5381148762692988989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=5381148762692988989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5381148762692988989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5381148762692988989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/05/dirty-feet-and-peanut-butter.html' title='Dirty feet and peanut butter.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-246340566757677857</id><published>2010-05-11T18:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T18:56:59.919-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh my.</title><content type='html'>Before I tell you a story about my very interesting trip to the park today, let me just get something out of the way. If I'm not on the ball about updating on my weight loss chances are it was not a good week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm up 2 pounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went a little overboard with the Mothers Day brunch that my father-in-law made for us. Lesson learned, turkey sausages are NOT good for a diet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to my park experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a lady that I see quite often at the park, at Liam's school, and I've even run into her at Safeway. She's one of those very social people and so we've become friendly, calling out hello to each other or chatting if we're both standing around with our kids. We've all got acquaintances like that. Park friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, she crossed the line from park-friend to over-sharer-friend today. I sat down at the picnic table and commented that her daughter was playing today and she's usually at school during the week. Hooo boy did I get an explanation I wasn't expecting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's leaving her husband of almost 20 years because he's been verbally, emotionally, and, occasionally, physically abusive to her. She decided to keep her daughter home because it's been a bit of a rough day. I then got a recap of this (really very nice) lady's life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dudes, this really tests one's social skills. I mean, what do you say?! So I listened, which is what I think she was really after. I offered my sympathy but she didn't seem sad at all, more focused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as she was leaving I said "have a great day!" I went red and tried to backtrack, and she laughed. Foot in mouth moment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oi!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-246340566757677857?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/246340566757677857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=246340566757677857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/246340566757677857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/246340566757677857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/05/oh-my.html' title='Oh my.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8873074330498913519</id><published>2010-05-06T10:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T10:39:39.653-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's All My Fault</title><content type='html'>So...we had a bit of a "situation" in the Panchuk household last night. It started Tuesday when I noticed that the dishwasher wasn't draining all the way. I spent my precious 30 minute break when both kids were napping at the same time with a turkey baster and coffee mug, sucking out the water from the bottom of the dishwasher. Fun. Try it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night Jeff decided to take apart the dishwasher to clean the clogs. I knew, I JUST KNEW, that in the back of his head he's bitching away about how I'm not a dish-rinsing nazi like he is.  That might have had something to do with how he kept calling me into the kitchen to see this long string of ___ (insert foodstuff) that he pulled out. Not very subtle, dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my stand on the rinsing of dishes. I absolutely, whole-heartedly, 110% agree that dishes need to be rinsed before being placed in the dishwasher, IF they have obvious large clumps of food left on them. What they DON'T need is to be rinsed to within an inch of their lives, to the point where they're clean anyway and should actually just be dried off and put back in the cabinet. Because...WHAT'S THE POINT??? I purchased a damn dishwasher to clean my dishes for me, not to sit there and look pretty. And for those small crumbs of food that are left on the dishes, there is a mulching option in the drain for those, is there not? It's not like I'm stuffing potatoes and pancakes in there and expecting it to work perfectly forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I actually could have written a whole lot more of that paragraph in caps. I practiced restraint.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Jeff got it all cleaned up and went to go screw on some part to some other part...and it snapped. Then he snapped. Then I snapped. Haha just kidding, I'm the voice of reason in this house. No, I put Nicky to bed and went and sat on the couch and nursed Josh while Jeff got it all out. And HOOOOOO boy did he get it all out. I'm pretty sure I heard some more blame coming my way, but not &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; my way, if you know what I mean. Lots of "if &lt;em&gt;people&lt;/em&gt; just rinsed...." and "&lt;em&gt;people&lt;/em&gt; think I'm nuts for rinsing...". Well, people DO rinse dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;People&lt;/em&gt; just forget sometimes to take the paper labels off of jars when they stick them in the dishwasher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So okay, FINE, it's ALL MY FAULT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my punishment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=iphonemay6093.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/iphonemay6093.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8873074330498913519?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8873074330498913519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8873074330498913519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8873074330498913519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8873074330498913519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/05/its-all-my-fault.html' title='It&apos;s All My Fault'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2992257765078306321</id><published>2010-05-03T16:01:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T16:13:21.386-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bitch, whine, and complain.</title><content type='html'>Today, it seems like everyone is trying to outdo my bad mood. I woke up cranky and it's gone downhill from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby...alternating between crying and chewing on everything in sight. That one's easy, he's teething. But due to the DAMN Tylenol recall and the runaround trying to figure out if what I have on hand is good or not, he's got no relief coming his way. And neither do I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toddler...so spoiled from a weekend of sugar and attention, all he wants to do is go outside. It's a rainy damp mess out there and I'm not inclined to taking the baby out. Cue the alternating crying and writhing around on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pre-teen...he's moody because I'm forcing him to participate in a round table discussion on the environment tonight so he's making sure I know he's not doing this willingly. He's actually the easiest to deal with because one threat of taking away his x-box and he's retreated to the basement until we have to head out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Husband...he's overwhelmed at work right now with virus's and whatnot, and is just in a bad mood. He's used to me being his sounding board but...today...I can't be that person. Just get what needs to be done, done, and then soon enough it will be bedtime, we can all go to sleep, and hopefully tomorrow will be better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This mama has reached her patience quota for the day. I need to breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ya, down to 130 pounds. Woo. Hoo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2992257765078306321?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2992257765078306321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2992257765078306321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2992257765078306321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2992257765078306321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/05/bitch-whine-and-complain.html' title='Bitch, whine, and complain.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6010829144685739735</id><published>2010-04-22T15:28:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T15:54:24.563-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Another milestone reached!</title><content type='html'>Well lookie here. At 7 months and 1 day, Joshua is now able to pull himself up into a standing position!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=joshmilestone002.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/joshmilestone002.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=joshmilestone003.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/joshmilestone003.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what I can remember, he's right on track with where Nicky was at this age. I'm expecting him to be full on walking in about 3 months. Holy Crap that's not far away. Liam was my lazy baby, he was totally content to be carried around by all of us women and didn't bother walking until he was 16 or 17 months old. Now you can't stop the kid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually can't wait till he starts walking. I love the independence that he's learning!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6010829144685739735?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6010829144685739735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6010829144685739735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6010829144685739735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6010829144685739735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/04/another-milestone-reached.html' title='Another milestone reached!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7153149052407773813</id><published>2010-04-19T13:48:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-19T14:02:18.151-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Please let this not become a habit</title><content type='html'>You know that time of the day, when all your children are in bed? You know, when it's &lt;em&gt;quiet&lt;/em&gt;? It feels so nice to know that everyone is taken care of and that another successful day is done. Even if the dishwasher is only half emptied because of grabby-handed toddlers trying to "help" and there's an abadoned broom in the living room because a certain demanding infant needed tending. And the pre-teen went to bed in a snit because you didn't scratch his back long enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my favorite part of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that time of night, when 2/3 of your children are in your bed? In your double-sized bed? It doesn't feel nice knowing that your toddler can now get out of his bed and run to yours when he wakes up at night, when you already have two adults and an infant in the bed. Especially if said toddler is a mover and a shaker in the sack and there's barely enough room as it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's not my favorite time of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He must not have gotten much sleep either because as he was taking his poop this morning he fell asleep draped over his toy aquarium. WISH I had gotten a picture of that!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7153149052407773813?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7153149052407773813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7153149052407773813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7153149052407773813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7153149052407773813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/04/please-let-this-not-become-habit.html' title='Please let this not become a habit'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-841018808015794411</id><published>2010-04-16T12:22:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-16T12:45:49.953-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm giving in to the inevitable.</title><content type='html'>My baby likes boobies. That's it, that's all, don't even bother with anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me, we've been trying for the past almost 7 months to get this boy to tolerate a bottle and it's SO not happening. Sure, I guess in a couple emergency situations he's reluctantly taken a few sips here and there but for the most part he'd rather scream his head off until the boob shows up. Just ask my husband or sister, they've both experienced the hell that is a screaming hungry infant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, we thought Nicky had inherited a combo of our &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;stubbornness&lt;/span&gt;. Then we had Josh who took it to a whole '&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nother&lt;/span&gt; level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My response to this frustrating fact depends on the day...heck, even the time of day! A lot of the time I love to nurse him, it gives me a chance to sit down and relax and stare at him. He's cute! I could stare at that kid for hours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other times, like while travelling or when I want to get out for a couple hours, I just wish he would allow us to stick a bottle (of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;breastmilk&lt;/span&gt;) in his mouth. It would make things ever so much easier. It would make me feel like I have some sort of life outside of being a milking cow. It would make Jeff feel like he can comfort him and have that special time with him too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the whole formula/&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;breastmilk&lt;/span&gt; aspect of this. I admit I'm being stubborn about wanting him to have only &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;breastmilk&lt;/span&gt; but he's my last baby and...ya, sure, whatever. I'm being stubborn about it. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I plan on letting him breastfeed until *gasp* he decides he's done. I think that scares Jeff. I think he has visions of Josh walking around and pulling my shirt down and talking in complete sentences asking for milk. Hell, that kinda scares me too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way I see it, I don't have much choice in this matter. The kid has us over a barrel and I, for one, surrender.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-841018808015794411?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/841018808015794411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=841018808015794411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/841018808015794411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/841018808015794411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/04/im-giving-in-to-inevitable.html' title='I&apos;m giving in to the inevitable.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-149468111966893502</id><published>2010-04-15T07:59:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T08:12:02.233-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Legal driver am I!</title><content type='html'>I *did* weigh myself on Monday and I'm holding steady at 134 pounds. Time to do something to get this back on track. But...didn't I say that last time? I need some motivation!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYway. I've got some momentous news. After...ummm...how old am I? Oh yes, 31 this August. Okay, after almost 17 years I have finally, FINALLY gotten a learners license. Yes, close your jaws folks, it's true. I walked my ass down to the registry and did it. I had to update my ID since it expired last August and still had my maiden name on it along with my moms address, since Ford needed something *legal* as identification for our contract for the Flex. (If that doesn't indicate my level of procrastination, I don't know what will. I've been married almost 3 years). I figured, since I was there, I &lt;em&gt;may as well&lt;/em&gt; take the test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Initially I didn't study at all. I took the practice tests online, aced those, and decided I'd just wing it. Well the time came to go, I took one look at my bitchy kids, and decided a better idea would be to put them down for naps and read the manual. The test was only $17 but I figured it was probably the only time I'd actually do it, procrastinator that I am, so I should make every effort to pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And pass I did! I didn't even have to complete the test! I got to question #27 and since I had only gotten 2 questions wrong so far I got to stop there since even if I got the next 3 wrong I would still pass. Sweetness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so when I'll get behind a wheel I couldn't begin to tell you. But this is definitely a step in the right direction!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-149468111966893502?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/149468111966893502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=149468111966893502' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/149468111966893502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/149468111966893502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-did-weigh-myself-on-monday-and-im.html' title='Legal driver am I!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-783364925828087910</id><published>2010-03-29T13:29:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-29T13:46:56.235-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Holy Crap!</title><content type='html'>It's Monday and we all know what that means! It's weekly weigh in time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today: 134 pounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost 4 pounds in the last week!!! I kid you not, and I have no idea how. I think my metabolism must be speeding up because I'm not putting as much crap into my body as I used to. Don't get me wrong, I'm still eating treats but nowhere near as much as I did before. Now it's time to start the crunches because I've still got the jiggly tummy...but my butt looks FANTASTIC if I do say so myself!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got my stroller on Saturday, and I ended up buying used because all the stores in the city were sold out. I'm excited about it, but a little bummed too. It's a tad bit more banged up than I would like, and the previous owner did not take as much care with it as she should have, knowing the resale value on these puppies. I'll be able to clean it up pretty good, get the juice stains out of the fabric and use some tire cleaner on the tires and frame. It also smells like it lived in her trunk for the past 2 years. ICK. So I'm hoping cleaning the fabric takes care of that little issue. She threw in about $80 worth of accessories too so it makes it a little better :) Now I'm wondering if I should shell out the $35 for a car seat adaptor so I can still have Josh in his bucket. It's probably worth it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When something goes well, it only follows that something else will go wrong. Right? Well for us it would be our van. We bought it used almost 2 years ago and we've shelled out far too much on it than what it's worth for us. We've been looking around and we're likely going to trade it in for a Flex. My brother in law is a manager at Ford so he's been keeping an eye out and found one that should work for us. It's got the captain chairs in the middle row just like the minivan so it's perfect. Our payments will go up a bit but we have wiggle room with Jeff at his new job, and we'll be in a vehicle that is a whole 5 years newer than our van. It's worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to start updating more than once a week, then I wouldn't be all over the place with 5 different things I'm talking about!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-783364925828087910?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/783364925828087910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=783364925828087910' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/783364925828087910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/783364925828087910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/holy-crap.html' title='Holy Crap!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7903126323535118855</id><published>2010-03-24T10:16:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-24T10:39:04.147-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bunches and bunches of randomness</title><content type='html'>-Weigh in: 138 pounds!! Still workin it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Liam split his lip goofing off on the ice at school on Friday. 3 stitches later and he's been very VERY careful about how he moves around now. Which is a welcome change from the accident-prone child he's always been. And, it's good to know that they stitch things up at the MediCenter. That's only a 10 minute walk from our house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-We've started time-out's with Nicholas. Or Shreaky, as I like to call him. He does quite well in time-out, sits there still as a stone and looks down at his hand for the full 2 minutes and then listens attentively while I explain why he had one. Then he gives me a hug. And then he goes back to doing whatever it was that put him in time-out. Usually it's shreaking at the snack cabinet and throwing himself on the floor while I ignore him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-We had our banking info stolen sometime over the weekend and spent a stressful 24 hours getting it figured out. The bank actually put the money back into account right when Jeff went in to get a new bank card. RELIEF. We were expecting to have to wait at least a few weeks for them to do it and we have a mortgage payment coming out next Thursday. Damn criminals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Hm, what else...we're getting a sweet tax return this year so I'm going to be able to get my Phil &amp;amp; Teds stroller that I've been drooling over! Jeff is going to get a laptop and this works to my advantage too. He'll be able to turf the monstrosity that is sitting on the desk downstairs and then I get that space to do my crafting. Love it when things work out in my favor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Speaking of crafting, I've been spending far too much time on deal-a-day sites. There's one in particular that has bajillions of deals per day and the ability to put product in your shopping cart that can sit there for up to 2 months while you accumulate more stuff, in order to get free shipping. I haven't actually &lt;em&gt;bought&lt;/em&gt; anything yet but I have LOTS of stuff in my cart. We'll see if Jeff will let me spend that much on scrap stuff. Fingers crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Josh is thisclose to crawling. He's getting up on all fours and the other day he got one knee forward, didn't know what to do with the rest of his body, and then face-planted into the carpet. He'll be a much happier baby once he can get around himself, I just know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-We are over the worst of this cold. Nicky only has a lingering bit of cough and Josh has the cough and a runny nose. This kid's nose is like a faucet that just keeps going. His poor little nosie is getting pretty chapped and red from getting wiped and the minute he sees me with the kleenex he starts freaking. I try to let it just sit and then do one big one but it's no better for the poor little dude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess that's it for now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7903126323535118855?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7903126323535118855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7903126323535118855' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7903126323535118855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7903126323535118855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/bunches-and-bunches-of-randomness.html' title='Bunches and bunches of randomness'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1055731601876981417</id><published>2010-03-16T13:35:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T13:55:08.552-06:00</updated><title type='text'>He's ba-aack. Sorta.</title><content type='html'>I think Nicky is on his way to feeling better. He's not quite so droopy today and is much more active and, well, Nicky. These are the perfect pictures to illustrate:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=iphonemar16011.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/iphonemar16011.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=iphonemar16012.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/iphonemar16012.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had it sitting next to me on the end table, full, and he grabbed it and tried to shove it under his shirt. GAHH that's liquid gold kid! Once I dumped it into a bottle and rinsed out the horn and bottle I gave it back to him. He knew how to put the tube back in and turn it on himself so I just let him. Poor little gaffer needs a little fun, even if it is pumping his "beebies".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1055731601876981417?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1055731601876981417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1055731601876981417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1055731601876981417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1055731601876981417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/hes-ba-aack-sorta.html' title='He&apos;s ba-aack. Sorta.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-350842128661365385</id><published>2010-03-15T12:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T13:10:14.714-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sickness in the house.</title><content type='html'>Weekly weigh in: still 140 pounds. Actually, I did lose 3.5 ounces but that hardly counts. Damn hot wings and Subway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other exciting news, both of my younger children have colds. It's been a tough weekend to be sure, but nothing compared to last night from 1-7 am when I finally got up for the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, Josh took for-freaking-ever to settle down. Tried laying in bed with him and he thought it was party time, so I came out to the living room to feed him and then rock him to sleep. About 11-ish he was out but that only lasted till 1 and then he was up and crying. He couldn't eat because he was so congested, and he couldn't lay down because he was just miserable. I set up the pillows so I could sit up and have him on my chest but that only kinda worked and I was paranoid about him falling out of my arms and off the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we moved out to the couch at 3 and it was no better, but at least Jeff could get rest. I know he would have moved had I asked him to but he's the one going to work and he's gotta be more on the ball there than I have to be. I think I slept for a max of 15-20 minutes at a time but more often 10 minutes. It really sucked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In between trying to comfort Josh I had to tend to Nicky a couple times too. Nothing dramatic, just reassuring him he was okay and laying him back down and turning on his fishies. Thank God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I had an awful outlook for the day. Nicky was whiney as all heck and Josh was coughing up a storm. Poor kiddo's, it's not their fault they feel like crap, but I was really discouraged from the lack of sleep and having snotty children hanging off of me for the past 2 days. I was starting to get a headache and had no faith in the magical powers of coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, as if the skies opened up and a ray of light started shining down, they decided that life wasn't so awful after all. They gobbled up their tylenol, their fevers went down, they had a chill-out period watching Cars, and all was good. They're still sick, yes, but Nicky at least is on the mend and playing. He doesn't have that drugged up glassy look in his eyes anymore, and Josh is smiling and laughing between his coughing fits. I'm sure tonight will suck balls again but I'm much more prepared for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-350842128661365385?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/350842128661365385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=350842128661365385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/350842128661365385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/350842128661365385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/sickness-in-house.html' title='Sickness in the house.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3508538680019056607</id><published>2010-03-12T08:23:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-12T10:00:43.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a problem</title><content type='html'>That is, besides using grammer check to make sure my sentences make sense. Especially my post titles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, this particular problem involves me rearranging rooms. Yesterday I started with cleaning under my couches and 2 hours later had a new living room layout. Granted it opened up the space 150%, but come on! Jeff just shook his head when he came home last night. He must be used to me by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm diggin it though, having the sectional really limits how we can set up the room so I decided to split up the two couches so they're facing each other. Now I don't have to move the coffee table around to accomodate small children being able to play. Ahhhhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3508538680019056607?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3508538680019056607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3508538680019056607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3508538680019056607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3508538680019056607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-have-problem.html' title='I have a problem'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8086424463307662055</id><published>2010-03-08T14:53:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T14:57:18.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay!!!</title><content type='html'>Well after my cranky post this morning I thought I'd share my latest weigh-in:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;140 POUNDS!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far I've lost 19 pounds on this journey. I'm well on my way to the ideal 125 that I want to be and it's the best news I've gotten all day. What with cranky teething babies, toddlers that insist on climbing out of their cribs, and pre-teens who are over dramatic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that when I reach 130 pounds I deserve to go shopping! GOOOO Chantel!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8086424463307662055?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8086424463307662055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8086424463307662055' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8086424463307662055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8086424463307662055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/yay.html' title='Yay!!!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1351398663854409783</id><published>2010-03-08T09:45:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T10:26:41.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting a little ticked off here.</title><content type='html'>To preface, my oldest son is a bit of a hypochondriac. Always has been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, Tuesday to be exact, I got a call in the afternoon from Liam's school secretary saying that she had him in the office and that he was saying he felt sick. Ugh. So I talked to him, he said he really didn't think he could stay at school, and I grudgingly gave the permission for him to come home. During the next 15 minutes waiting for him to walk in the door I was ranting and raving about children who will do anything to get out of school and schools that have no hesitation about picking up the phone and calling parents at the drop of a hat. Trust me, I have dealt and dealt and dealt and DEALT with this issue for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, God got me back on that one. Not to offend anyone who believes in God, I believe in him too....and I believe he did get me back for not believing my son. 10 minutes after he got home he puked all over the bathroom door trying to get there in time, and spent the next 12 hours alternating between puking and sleeping. Seriously though, it's probably the first time in ALL the times that I've been called to give permission for him to come home that he's been honest-to-betsy sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut to today. I get a call 15 minutes after school starts from Marianne (ya we're on a first name basis) and Liam was monkeying around on the playground and fell off a platform. He winded himself and his back was sore. OF COURSE his back was sore, but it would wear off in no time at all and he had already missed a day and a half last week. He needed to stay at school. If the pain got uncontrollable then they could call me back and we'd go from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...I of course got a call and he couldn't breathe easily and at this point in order to keep my status as a 'good mother' I had to give the okay for him to come home. Wouldn't want anyone to think I didn't care about any injuries my children might sustain from being...um...children? Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't every single person on the face of this earth wind themselves as a  child AT LEAST once if not many more times?! Did you get to go home if that happened? Or did you get up, catch your breath, dust your pants off, and go back to playing and tell yourself you really hoped that never happened again because MAN that sucked? When did children become such pansies?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's NOT seriously hurt, I checked him over. He told me his upper back hurt and in the next moment windmilled his arms as he was taking of his sweater. No grimace of pain. Of course, he wouldn't know that windmilling your arms should hurt if you really really hurt your upper back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the schools!!! They just perpetuate this in my opinion. I GET it that there are rules and policies in place for a reason. But come ON. All a situation like this is teaching them is that there is no accountability for behaving like a jackass and hurting yourself. You get to go home, just tell the teacher that you can't breath. Not serious enough to call an ambulance because nooooo you didn't break a bone or puncture a lung, but ya it's no big deal to miss another day of school.  Where, tell me, is the logic in that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He seemed pretty disappointed when I told him he could rest for the morning but he was headed back to school after lunch. It's not a free day buddy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1351398663854409783?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1351398663854409783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1351398663854409783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1351398663854409783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1351398663854409783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/getting-little-ticked-off-here.html' title='Getting a little ticked off here.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8722663415815703863</id><published>2010-03-02T13:08:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T13:25:04.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bit of this, bit of that.</title><content type='html'>Oh ya, yesterday's weigh in was 143. Take that bitches!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm going to be putting it all back on tonight at Tony Roma's while celebrating my besties 30th birthday. Granted, in an effort to save my weight watchers points for the yummy delicious ribs meal I'm anticipating, I've eaten next to nothing today. But that'll only take me so far...guess I better squeeze in some extra exercising this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've discovered another way to lose weight too! It's called the 'Get Fucked Over On Your Last Paycheck' plan. Basically, you quit your job, start a new one, and on your last paycheck at your old job make sure they combine 3 weeks of pay into one paycheck. This insures that you get bumped up to the next tax level and then you'll make a whopping $100 for that last week of work. Woo! So, you won't have any extra money left over to buy groceries, so you won't be able to eat, so you'll lose even more weight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I kid, I kid. I was raised mormon so I've got canned food coming out the ying-yang. We won't starve. We'll just be very bitchy. Or, I will be, because I'll have to give up my creamer till next month. Stupid mother-effing Gescan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**And in light of the recent money problems I tried to back out of dinner tonight. The dinner that I planned. Thankfully I have a wonderful friend who is taking me along as the poor relation. But I'd do the same for her in a heartbeat :))&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8722663415815703863?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8722663415815703863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8722663415815703863' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8722663415815703863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8722663415815703863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/bit-of-this-bit-of-that.html' title='Bit of this, bit of that.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-5480601538051810215</id><published>2010-03-01T14:14:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T14:23:06.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>38 minutes, 35 seconds.</title><content type='html'>That's how long it took me to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-fold 2 loads of laundry&lt;br /&gt;-switch a load to the dryer and put another one in the washer.&lt;br /&gt;  (while being super extra quiet since there was a sleeping baby in the same room)&lt;br /&gt;-dust the living room&lt;br /&gt;-pick up toys scattered all around the house&lt;br /&gt;-unload and reload the dishwasher&lt;br /&gt;-sweep and spot mop the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;-tackle a couple of the messier, stickier, toddler hand sized spots on various walls, cabinets, windowsills, and doors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to the stopwatch on my new iphone I can now officially be called a loser. I wonder how long it'll take me to clean the bathroom...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-5480601538051810215?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/5480601538051810215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=5480601538051810215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5480601538051810215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/5480601538051810215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/03/38-minutes-35-seconds.html' title='38 minutes, 35 seconds.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8437294044398810561</id><published>2010-02-28T11:36:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T11:47:11.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More space for MY stuff now.</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was a great day! Back when we found out we were expecting Josh we decided to move Nicky into the bigger bedroom and we took the smaller one. Our theory was that 2 kids and their toys needed more space. Well. More space = more toys to make a mess and I was getting heartily sick of banging into things in our crowded room. A couple months ago I put the bug in Jeff's ear that I wanted to switch rooms back but he kept putting me off with excuse after excuse not to do it. Just wait till after the vasectomy. Oh, he needs to finish the closet door. He just started a new job. Blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then comes Friday. I had decided that I wanted to do it this weekend but when I talked to Jeff he of course put it off again so I dropped it. We're hanging out at home and he gets a text from a friend to go watch the Olympic hockey game and I saw my chance! I told him I was cool with him going as long as we could do the old switcheroo on Saturday and he really wanted to go so he agreed. We dropped the younger boys off at my moms and got it all done in about 3 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The OTHER great thing that happened yesterday was I got my iPhone!!!! I must say, it's pretty fun to play around with and texting is no longer a pain in the ass. Liam is all over it like a dirty shirt and is begging begging begging for one. And it's so so so not going to happen. An 11 year old with his own cell phone? I gotta say, I just don't agree. We have the other phone on our plan (since Jeff has a work one now) and he is allowed to take that one when he goes to the park, friends houses, etc., but otherwise it stays in the microwave cabinet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all around a great weekend :) Now I just have to go make a birthday card for a little princess that's turning 2 today. Happy Birthday Hailey!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8437294044398810561?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8437294044398810561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8437294044398810561' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8437294044398810561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8437294044398810561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/02/more-space-for-my-stuff-now.html' title='More space for MY stuff now.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1134470636281778571</id><published>2010-02-26T10:42:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T11:11:18.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I think she was looking for a booty call.</title><content type='html'>Text conversation copied from my phone last night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some number I've never seen before: hey have you watched Survivor yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: who is this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;weird random number: it's Nicole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: lol okay sorry, didn't recognize the number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: no I haven't watched it yet, it's on my PVR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: Oh. How was your day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: well I'm not feeling too hot but otherwise the day was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: Oh eww, are you sick?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: prob just a little bug no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: well, i'd rather be sick than in pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: I went shopping today and now I hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Oh, jealous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: don't be, just grocery shopping and to South Common. I got 2 seasons of Full House.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: well still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*at this point I got tired of texting and started watching my show with Jeff and Liam. About a half hour passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: So are you watching your show?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: Oh ewww my ex-boyfriend just called me :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: so are you going out tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Ummmm....no. Why would I go out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: oh I was just wondering. I'm staying in, I have to work first thing in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*it was here that I realised that whoever this Nicole is, she's not the same Nichole that I know. The Nichole I know would know that I do NOT go out and party on a Thursday night. So I just turned off my phone and figured whoever this chick was, she'd realise eventually that she had the wrong number whenever she talked to whoever she thought she was talking to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But she texted me this morning. AT 7 AM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: so, who got voted off Survivor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: okay, I think you have the wrong number. I didn't realise at first because I do know a Nichole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: So this isn't Radford?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: no this is Chantel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: but, Randy got voted off last night since you're wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicole: Nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's where we left it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1134470636281778571?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1134470636281778571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1134470636281778571' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1134470636281778571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1134470636281778571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-think-she-was-looking-for-booty-call.html' title='I think she was looking for a booty call.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8671499828398931752</id><published>2010-02-25T09:26:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T09:37:15.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ha!</title><content type='html'>Jeff and I co-sleep with Josh, it works and allows us to get as much sleep as possible. Well, that is until Nicky decided that waking up randomly in the wee hours of the morning was a great idea. You never know when it's going to strike, it could be 4 or 5 or even 3 am-or not at all-but this child will wake up and be almost impossible to put back down. On those mornings one of us will take him onto the couch and fall asleep with him. Usually this job falls to Jeff since Josh is attached to the boob all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning at 5:30 the sleepless wonder struck so I stumbled to his room, tried my sleepy best to convince him to fall asleep, and ultimately ended up on the couch with him. Maybe 15 minutes later Josh realised that I (my boobs) were no longer there and started fussing. Jeff scooped him up against him, Josh latched onto his shirt, and everyone was back to sleep within 2 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a first!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8671499828398931752?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8671499828398931752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8671499828398931752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8671499828398931752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8671499828398931752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/02/ha.html' title='Ha!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7998799110948724640</id><published>2010-02-24T11:48:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T11:58:15.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quick update</title><content type='html'>This weeks weigh in: 145 pounds. Not bad but not good either. Staying the same is disappointing and I hope I'm not hitting a plateau but I'm pretty sure it's because I was getting a little lax in my eating habits. You know, eating just a little bit extra than I should have and not counting it towards my points. Not drinking enough water. Drinking too much coffee with my delicious hazelnut creamer. That sort of thing. So it's back on the bandwagon for moi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did the shred as well and it DID kick my ass but it was also pretty awesome. I'm putting it on hold for now though because I need to invest in a good sports bra and they're expensive. We'll be back on track financially in the next month but with Jeff starting his new job last week it's just been a little rocky. I do have the wii and it still gives me quite the workout so I'll be doing that again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the before pic, I didn't have a full body shot from where I started in January so here is one of me sitting down at Christmas. You can still see how fat I am so it works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Christmas09071.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/Christmas09071.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7998799110948724640?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7998799110948724640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7998799110948724640' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7998799110948724640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7998799110948724640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/02/quick-update.html' title='Quick update'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6379962960381924643</id><published>2010-02-19T08:06:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T08:11:50.234-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How hard can it be?</title><content type='html'>Today I'm going to start the 30 Day Shred. I downloaded it yesterday and took a look at it and I'm really excited to be able to fit a good workout into a small window of time. I'm just kidding about it not being hard...it's going to kick my ass. And I can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also occurred to me that I should post a before picture, so I'll get on that at some point today and post it with my next blog post. That's a lot of 'post' in one sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, it also occurred to me that this blog is missing some scrappy happiness, so I'll be posting my latest creations soon here too. Just for you Jess :) I'm also starting to work on some very ambitious projects for the boys for Christmas. I'll tell y'all about that later too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6379962960381924643?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6379962960381924643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6379962960381924643' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6379962960381924643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6379962960381924643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/02/how-hard-can-it-be.html' title='How hard can it be?'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7002167617453913237</id><published>2010-02-18T11:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T11:07:51.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3 things.</title><content type='html'>I'm having a moment. A covetous moment. I want, I want, I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These moments always seem to come at the precise time when you barely have enough money to cover your bills, let alone have anything left to play with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY. Here are the 3 things I want badly right now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Phil &amp;amp; Ted's stroller. These things are SO COOL and I'm jealous of all my friends that have one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A DSLR. I get so frustrated with the amount of work I have to put into my camera to take a picture that at least doesn't look like crap, but still is nowhere near what it could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An iphone. This is actually more attainable than the other things I want, but I have to wait for it. And I'm an Instant Gratification kind of gal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All right, I guess it's time to go and make lunch, somebody is whining in the kitchen like I've been starving him for the last 4 days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7002167617453913237?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7002167617453913237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7002167617453913237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7002167617453913237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7002167617453913237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/02/3-things.html' title='3 things.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1891890884435937029</id><published>2010-02-16T14:34:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-16T15:11:11.252-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Every girl's gotta have a goal.</title><content type='html'>One of the things I wanted to pay more attention to in the new year was this blog. It has suffered greatly! It's not as though I don't have the time since we're on a pretty good schedule here and I'm not quite as sleep deprived as I was for the first few months after Josh was born. But when I sit down at the computer I have responsibilities; I've got a couple farms that I need to harvest, and an adorable pet that I need to keep fed and clean. I swear they're more a pain in the ass to keep up than they are fun but I just can't stop. Is that what they call an addiction? Someone needs to take Facebook away from me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another issue I wanted to address in the new year (I refuse to call them resolutions) is my weight. It's something I never really gave any serious thought to although I sure did bitch and moan about it. I imagine this is true of many people. Slowly, so slowly, that scale crept up and up and up until I actually felt comfortable (lazy) at 160 pounds. That may be a healthy weight for somebody at least a half foot taller than me, but I'm only 5'2". I should be in the 120-130 pound range. And I haven't read those numbers on a scale in a good 8 years. Holy heck that's a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I had Liam almost 11 years ago, the weight just kind of melted off. I did a lot of walking since I didn't drive and my age probably had something to do with it. At 19 the metabolism works a hell of a lot better than it does at 30. I guess I just naively believed that the same thing would happen after Nicky was born. Except it didn't. And then I got pregnant again. So now instead of waiting for a miracle I'm taking matters into my own hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joined Weight Watchers on January 4 and I started out at 160 pounds. What a huge reality check. I vaguely knew I wasn't eating healthy but I loved snacking more than I cared about that so I didn't examine my eating habits too closely. It has taken quite a while to get used to not being able to eat chips or cheese toast or nutella straight from the jar. In fact, I can't even keep those kinds of things in the house because I just don't trust my willpower. I have caved a few times and cheated, so I know it's in me lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there has been success! In 6 weeks I have managed to lose 15 pounds, putting me at 145 pounds as of yesterday. I do my weigh in every Monday and so far I've lost at least 1 pound but more often between 2 and 3 per week. I'm fitting in clothes I haven't been able to wear in years. It's so encouraging and if I didn't have this kind of visual success I would probably be tempted to throw in throw in the towel. Ultimately my goal is to reach 125 pounds by July 4. 35 pounds in 6 months. I'm almost halfway there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to those of you that are reading I have a request. Leave a comment so that I can see who I'm being accountable to. It helps me to know that other people are rooting for me and the more people who know about this, the more likely I'll be to not want to disappoint anyone. So I'm recruiting you to be my personal cheerleader :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1891890884435937029?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1891890884435937029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1891890884435937029' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1891890884435937029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1891890884435937029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/02/every-girls-gotta-have-goal.html' title='Every girl&apos;s gotta have a goal.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2064643433189014532</id><published>2010-01-12T13:53:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T14:26:41.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My kids are so damn cute.</title><content type='html'>Even Liam is cute. Sure, he's a cranky pre-teen most of the time but when you catch him unawares and he's just being himself I am reminded of that sweet little boy he used to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Aug14006.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/Aug14006.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicholas is dramatic. When he's happy, he's really really happy. But when he's mad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=nov19003.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/nov19003.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Joshua is just about the cutest little thing with his dimples. He's growing so quickly that I can barely even stand it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=jan7042.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/jan7042.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm the luckiest mom in the world and most days I know it! I may not be sure I'm doing things right most of the time but they're happy so I'm probably not far off the mark :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2064643433189014532?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2064643433189014532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2064643433189014532' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2064643433189014532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2064643433189014532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/01/my-kids-are-so-damn-cute.html' title='My kids are so damn cute.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8147514564267269129</id><published>2010-01-07T13:11:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T13:19:33.225-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking</title><content type='html'>C-sections used to be an issue that didn't affect me personally. And I suppose they still don't, but having come so close to one I find myself getting angry on behalf of people who have them. Even if those people, women, aren't angry themselves. I just think in most cases they are so absolutely unneccesary...and yet I experienced firsthand how in the heat of labor a woman can be coerced into thinking she or her baby is going to die without one. DIE. Of course you're going to say yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite my anger on behalf of others, and general disgust at the way woman are manipulated into accepting these procedures, all I do is silently stew over it. Just a random thought for the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8147514564267269129?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8147514564267269129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8147514564267269129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8147514564267269129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8147514564267269129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/01/thinking.html' title='Thinking'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3634438007552205572</id><published>2010-01-07T12:00:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-07T12:12:13.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I inadvertantly...</title><content type='html'>...did a scrap page that works for a mission create challenge! I had already planned on using most of the prompts, and added in the strip journaling. Even though I didn't "have to". And even though I almost never journal on my pages. It was nice to be able to use pink on a boys page, it was subtle enough, I think, to work :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=jan7066.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/jan7066.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3634438007552205572?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3634438007552205572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3634438007552205572' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3634438007552205572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3634438007552205572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-inadvertantly.html' title='I inadvertantly...'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-4340794781746978306</id><published>2009-11-16T16:08:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T16:17:23.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet peeves</title><content type='html'>I've got 3 major ones. They make my head want to explode. I'll list them in the order of how much they annoy me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. When I am talking to somebody and ask a question and I know the person I'm talking to heard me but they don't respond. It's not rhetorical, answer me dammit!! Liam and Jeff both do this to me often and wonder why I get so exasperated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. When........people......write..............like...........this. Do they even realise how much longer it takes to write like that? Use some punctuation, I'd take a whole paragraph full of exclamation points rather than have to read something with excessive use of elipses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*disclaimer-there is one person who can get away with it in my books, but she's my sister and I love her and so I don't say anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Writing things on the computer in text-speak. Ur nt kewl. I actually know lots of people who do this and for the most part they're awesome people but this just annoys the ever-loving shit out of me ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay done with my little rant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-4340794781746978306?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/4340794781746978306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=4340794781746978306' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4340794781746978306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4340794781746978306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/11/pet-peeves.html' title='Pet peeves'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-7561138711814587185</id><published>2009-11-13T10:56:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T14:52:13.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Josh's Birth Story</title><content type='html'>It occurred to me this morning that I may want to record the birth stories of my children so that one day they can read them. I know that day is far off but I'm trying to think ahead. This may get long-winded. I know, shocker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll start with Josh since his is the most fresh in my memory. I was due on September 16 and that day had come and gone. I'd had a couple of false labor scares, one of which I was actually convinced that it could be it and went to the hospital. No such luck. Not being patient by nature, it was very difficult to keep waiting and waiting. I had expected to go a little early based on my experience with Nicholas but I should have known by then that no two births are the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My labour started in the evening on Sunday the 20th. I didn't say anything to anyone because I'd been having contractions for weeks and I didn't want to make a big deal out of something that could possibly turn out to be nothing. They were about every 10-15 minutes so I decided to go to bed and see how long I could sleep through them. They were waking me up every so often but I didn't actually get out of bed until around 4:30 to start timing. At that point they were every 5 or so minutes and starting to get super painful so I told Jeff to call his mom to come over. She got to the house at 5:30 and we got things together to get out the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I remember most about this part was me standing in the bedroom clinging to the dresser as I breathed through a contraction, and Diane standing there asking me a question. I felt bad after, but I held up my hand to stop her from talking because I just couldn't concentrate on what she was saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we got to the hospital just before 6 am. Got up to L&amp;amp;D and they got us into the labour ward. I was walking/talking just fine so they didn't see any urgency in the situation but my contractions were pretty much one on top of another. After they hooked me up to the monitors and I went through a few contractions, they realised that the baby's heart rate was decelerating during them. We tried switching sides, laying down, sitting up, oxygen, but it was still happening. That's when the nurses and doc's started crowding around my bed. Jeff's face was pretty worried but I couldn't focus on much else besides the pain. They got an IV in and then decided they needed an internal monitor on the baby but there was no change and I could feel the atmosphere getting tense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was vaguely aware of the on-call doctor introducing himself to me and then talking with the nurses. Then one of the nurses got right down in my face and told me that they needed to get the baby out now and that they would have to give me a c-section. I started crying but, trusting what they were telling me, I agreed. They said there wasn't time for an epidural so they would have to knock me out and the nurse looked so apologetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right then another doctor was just strolling past the ward with nothing to do (lol). She poked her head in when she heard the commotion and came to see what was going on and if she could help at all. She immediately took over and gave me another internal check to see where I was dilation-wise. Since I was fully dilated she asked me if I wanted to try pushing and I swear I could have kissed her right there. The last thing I wanted was surgery but the last 45 minutes had really brought home how easy it is for doctors to take the easy way out. Then came this woman who was giving me an option that the other doctor and nurses had made me feel wasn't there. In that moment I felt kind of betrayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As quickly as possible they wheeled me to a delivery room and I hefted myself off the stretcher and onto the bed. Not easy! I held in the pushes while they were getting things set up and I went into some sort of zone. I have no idea how long that lasted but finally they said I could push if I wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't really feeling a huge urge to push but I knew it was important to try to do this as quickly as I could so I gave it all I had. This birth was so different from the other ones when it came to pushing. With Liam I had an epidural so while I could feel the urge to push I was kind of numb otherwise. With Nicholas he was so close to out by the time I got into the delivery room that I only had a little half-push. With Josh...I could feel every move as he descended down. It was the freakiest feeling and I started getting a little panicked like I couldn't do it. It took 6 good pushes and then he was out and we could see why his heart rate kept dipping; he had the cord wrapped around his neck. After the unwrapped it they plopped him on my stomach and that's when I thought to ask the most important questions of all, boy or girl? And somebody said it was a boy and then took him to the isolette to do all those things they do to new babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh's time of birth was 7:02 am. Barely an hour after we got to the hospital and he was with us, in the most dramatic way I could think of. No drugs, all natural, and I was feeling awesome. Tired, but awesome. I was able to get out of bed after they stitched me all up and walk on my own to the bathroom and then to the wheelchair. They wheeled us first to the nursery to drop Josh off for some testing, and then to the recovery room. Jeff, Josh, and I hung out just the 3 of us for a little bit, and then Jeff took off home to see Nick and Liam, and to pick up the car seat. He already knew that I would be itching to get out of there as soon as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he was right, I think I lasted about 6 hours and then I started to get restless. Around 2 in the afternoon I told the nurse that I wanted to go home if at all possible, and could she make sure a doctor came around to see me soon instead of in the morning. Josh had already been cleared by his pediatrician to go home and by sheer luck my OB was on call and would come as soon as he could to check me out. Jeff got back to the hospital at 5, my doc gave me the clear to go at 5:15, and we were headed back home by 5:30. Less than 12 hours after giving birth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of the 3 this was by far the most painful and scary. Thankfully everything worked out and we're all safe and healthy. And now I must go and tend to my crying infant :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-7561138711814587185?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/7561138711814587185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=7561138711814587185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7561138711814587185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/7561138711814587185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/11/joshs-birth-story.html' title='Josh&apos;s Birth Story'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6294011905593587758</id><published>2009-09-12T16:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T17:05:49.531-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a pregnant husband.</title><content type='html'>It started out as a joke, back when I was pregnant with Nicholas. Right from the very beginning it seemed like every symptom I was getting, so was Jeff. In fact, he was getting a lot of symptoms that I should have been getting but wasn't. The moodiness and up and down emotions. Putting together strange concoctions in the kitchen and actually eating them. The other ones, like nausea, heartburn, tiredness, gas...check, check, check, check. If I had it then so did he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some might think that he was doing it to get attention but here's the thing. He wouldn't know a pregnancy symptom if it up and hit him in the head. As much as he was on board with becoming a dad he's just not the kind of guy who's going to go out and study up on it. He tried, he bought a humerous book about fatherhood...I think he got maybe 3 chapters in. The main things his dad-friends talked about regarding their wives being pregnant were how much bitchier they got and how much sex they wanted. Fortunately he lucked out with having a pretty even-keeled wife. UNfortunately he didn't cash in on other part of what the dad's were talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to this pregnancy. It's pretty much mirrored the last one, dude is totally having another sympathetic pregnancy. I think it's sweet and shows how in tune we are. I know this guy inside and out but sometimes I worry that he doesn't have the same connection to me since I can be so...closed? I guess you could say that I'm not overly-emotional. But this, Jeff's reaction to me being pregnant, reinforces that we do have that bond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This all has a point, I swear! I'm getting to the last few days before my due date and have been nesting like mad. Today, true to form, he has officially started his nesting too. So far today he has emptied and cleaned out the pool, washed down all the various pool toys and inflatables and put everything away. He weatherproofed the new window he put in last weekend. He fixed the valance and curtains in our bedroom. He went out and got some plyboard for Nicky's toddler bed base and installed that. He filled the cracks between the sidewalk and the house. After we get home from our walk (that will hopefully help induce labor) he's planning on fixing the closet door in our room, changing out the blinds in the back porch, and changing out the blinds and installing the new lighting fixture in Liam's room. This man makes me feel lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think I can safely say that this baby will be coming very soon. I just have to keep an eye on Jeff and watch for any contractions he might be having!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6294011905593587758?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6294011905593587758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6294011905593587758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6294011905593587758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6294011905593587758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/09/it-started-out-as-joke-back-when-i-was.html' title='I have a pregnant husband.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-128781600096700565</id><published>2009-09-10T08:39:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T08:50:07.368-06:00</updated><title type='text'>39 weeks 1 day...not that I'm counting or anything.</title><content type='html'>Pretty soon here I'm going to hop in the shower and start getting ready for my doctor's appointment. I really didn't think that I would make this appointment...I was in the hospital last week with "false" labor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**For the record I don't actually believe in "false" labor. That makes it sound like it was all in my head and nothing was actually going on. Never mind that I sat through 7 hours of contractions occuring every 3 minutes. I'm still a little bitter about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But to get back on topic. My dr.s appointment. He usually doesn't do internal checks to measure dilation but I have found that if he see's a legitimate reason he will do one. Since I really want to know if I've progressed past 3 cm I'm going to tell him about the pretty regular bouts of 2-3+ hours worth of contractions I've been having and see if that'll make him want to check. Hey, it worked 3 weeks ago!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cross your fingers for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-128781600096700565?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/128781600096700565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=128781600096700565' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/128781600096700565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/128781600096700565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/09/39-weeks-1-daynot-that-im-counting-or.html' title='39 weeks 1 day...not that I&apos;m counting or anything.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1304510213099831111</id><published>2009-09-09T08:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T08:42:25.430-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember me?</title><content type='html'>I have been encouraged to come out of blog hiding! I've been such a slacker the last 5 or 6 months and have neglected this blog shamefully, but hopefully that'll change. I know, I know, aren't I due any day now with baby #3? And I think I'll have time NOW, as opposed to the last half year? Well duh, ya!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what has persuaded me, you may ask? There is a blog I have been reading for the past few months, &lt;a href="http://www.pacingthepanicroom.com/"&gt;www.pacingthepanicroom.com&lt;/a&gt;, and this super generous, caring dad has set up a giveaway for cloth diapers. I couldn't resist since I'm in luuuurve with cloth diapers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I already have a bit of a stash of 'em. I also have 2 babies to diaper since #2 is only 16 months old. And with only 1 income...shall we say the dollars are already being stretched? There's not much room in the budget to splurge out on any more of the good ones although I did sacrifice about $50 for some Dri-lines that'll only fit the new baby for the first 2 months maybe, 3 if he/she is a shrimpboat. After that these 2 little ones will be sharing diapers, and whoooo man I forsee a LOT of laundry in my future!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, these &lt;a href="http://www.fuzzibunz.com/"&gt;www.fuzzibunz.com&lt;/a&gt; would come in super handy! Back when I started cloth diapering Fuzzibunz didn't have the one-size dipes (or if they did I couldn't find them) so I decided, for the sake of my wallet, to go with BumGenius one-size. From what I've read and the personal opinions that I've gotten from friends, the two are pretty much on par with each other. Only major difference is BG's have velcro and FB's have snaps. No biggie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I actually have a confession to make. While I enjoyed cloth diapering and was very appreciative of the money saved, once I got pregnant again the smell of those solid food dirty diapers got to me so bad that I threw in the towel :(  Well, I was going through the baby stuff in preparation for this new one and was getting the few diapers I have ready, and have decided that since Nicky is on a pretty predictable poop schedule I'm going to start using them again. I'll try to time the poopy ones with a disposable until we can get a diaper sprayer, and I think I'll have to invest in a proper diaper bag instead of the flip top garbage pail we were using. But this is the plan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay off to link now (I'm a novice linker so I hope this actually works!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1304510213099831111?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1304510213099831111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1304510213099831111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1304510213099831111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1304510213099831111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/09/remember-me.html' title='Remember me?'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-2196864716495086838</id><published>2009-03-23T10:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T10:35:07.696-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Zzzzzzzzzz.</title><content type='html'>Tired. Tiiiiiiiiired. That's me in a nutshell lately, but do you think I could do something about it? Like maybe hmmmmm going to bed earlier than midnight? Nope, but I have a very valid reason for not tucking in earlier on a regular basis. It's called Child That Wakes Up Every Time I Enter The Bedroom. So I find myself making excuses to put off going to bed-surfing the internet, sweeping the floors, staring at walls, even falling asleep on the couch. Anything to put off going into our bedroom in the hopes that he'll sleep a bit longer before waking up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a light at the end of the tunnel though. Our new bedroom should be ready for us to move into this weekend. We've done some juggling with the rooms upstairs and the new plan is that Nicky and the new babe will sleep in the bigger bedroom that we currently use and Jeff and I are moving into the smaller bedroom. First though, we had to add more electrical outlets in the small room (there was only 1), a hookup for the t.v. and satellite (because God forbid we don't have a t.v. in our room *rolling eyes*) and knock out a wall to make the closet door bigger so that we can put bi-fold doors in. I'm SO effing done with reno's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT. When we're finally in there and Nicky is in his own room then I can go to bed any time I want! Hooray! And then we're starting the sleep training for night time. Um, hooray? Ya, so not looking forward to that. We've done it for naps and it has been successful but it took weeks to do it. Not the fabled 1 to 3 days. I'm hoping that since he already knows the drill during the day it'll be easier for him to catch on at night. But my child has a combination of mine and Jeff's stubborness (ya I admit it, I'm stubborn) and he'll probably decide that he wants to make our life hell. Oh and he'll probably decide that he doesn't need to sleep during the day too. You know, just for good measure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now I'm hanging on for dear life to my fantasy of sleep in the near future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-2196864716495086838?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/2196864716495086838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=2196864716495086838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2196864716495086838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/2196864716495086838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/03/zzzzzzzzzz.html' title='Zzzzzzzzzz.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-9048993477830947885</id><published>2009-02-17T20:47:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T20:56:57.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Valentine's Day to us!!</title><content type='html'>Valentine's Day. The most "romantic" day of the year. And what do we end up with? A nice matching set of food poisoning courtesy of a chinese food place close to our house!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We put the babe to bed, Liam was at his dad's house, and Jeff went and picked up our order. We ate and watched a movie and all was good. Actually it stayed good until the following night around midnight when it hit me. H-e-l-l is all I can describe it as. I actually thought I was having a miscarriage it hurt so bad. Sweating and freezing and all that fun stuff. The really bad part for me lasted about 7 hours. I slept on the couch that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right when it started to ease up a little, it hit Jeff. Oh I have never seen this man in so much pain and agony in our time together. He definitely got hit harder than I did, he was still in the thick of it when we decided to go to the hospital at 7 in the evening. We got hooked up to matching IV's, got some nausea medication and blood tests and "other" tests. At 11 they said I was good to go but Jeff needed to stay and get an x-ray. I would have stayed with him but his mom was here taking care of the boys and I knew she had to work in the morning so off I went. I do feel a little guilty but Jeff understands (I hope). He arrived home at about 4:30 in the morning. Oh, and he got to experience a couple Royal Alex crazies lol. They had to move him because he was in an actual room and they needed it for some guy who had a police escort. And of course the regular Sunday night drunks that end up there :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're still feeling a little shaky over here but it's getting better. And now we have matching wrist bands!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-9048993477830947885?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/9048993477830947885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=9048993477830947885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/9048993477830947885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/9048993477830947885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/02/happy-valentines-day-to-us.html' title='Happy Valentine&apos;s Day to us!!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-1438891497097261006</id><published>2009-01-21T15:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T15:39:31.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a good thing you can't see my bed-head.</title><content type='html'>It's a couple days late, but what-ev-er. I bit the bullet and took a picture of my belly because I really want to make more of an effort this time to document the whole pregnancy. I wanted to do it with Nicholas but Jeff could never take pictures the way I wanted him to (unreasonable much?) and so I just gave up on it! But now that I've figured out how to take a picture in the mirror (durrrr just turn the flash off), well, all bets are off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is me at 7 weeks and 3 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Jan21022.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/Jan21022.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just to let y'all know that for the sake of my vanity, I'm sucking it in BIG TIME. And I'll keep sucking it in until I can't suck it in anymore. Because getting fat again sucks. At least I can be comforted by the fact that in a couple months I'll have a cute baby bump that will make up for the fat part.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-1438891497097261006?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/1438891497097261006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=1438891497097261006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1438891497097261006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/1438891497097261006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-good-thing-you-cant-see-my-bed-head.html' title='It&apos;s a good thing you can&apos;t see my bed-head.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-4717008359639460845</id><published>2009-01-15T21:21:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T21:58:36.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It figures.</title><content type='html'>Jeff got a text tonight from a friend of ours inviting us to a birthday party tomorrow night. Since my mom was sitting right there when we got the invite, she offered to watch the boys for us. Well, the actual conversation was a little more convoluted with Jeff not being on the same page as my mom and I in regards to what she was offering...and it ended in me being somewhat of a rude prego bitch, but I digress. She in fact is going to take them both overnight just as long as we can be there to pick them up by 8:30 the next morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means that I get to sleep uninterupted for as-many-hours-as-I-can-in-a-whole-row-oh-my-god-oh-my-god. I'm even contemplating ditching my husband and friends so that I can sleep for even longer. I could EVEN get Jeff to take them over there as soon as he gets off work and go to sleep then. At 5 o'clock in the afternoon. Since when did sleep become such a gift, you may ask? Since I haven't slept through the night in about a year. That's when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT why couldn't this have happened 2 weeks ago when I was blissfully unaware of being pregnant? Because I really coulda tied one on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-4717008359639460845?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/4717008359639460845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=4717008359639460845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4717008359639460845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4717008359639460845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/01/it-figures.html' title='It figures.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-3187485227035366651</id><published>2009-01-13T14:22:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T14:36:48.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The babyproofing continues...</title><content type='html'>So far, I have escaped the morning sickness bug! I'm crossing my fingers over here that it doesn't come because I shudder to think of what my whirlwind little monster could possibly get into while I have my head over a toilet. The visual is not encouraging. He's all over the place now, cruising from place to place and generally wreaking havoc on our home :) Nothing is safe from this little one, and especially not the power outlets. Personal favorite for him, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another favorite is the shelves with all the games on it that we have in the basement. I'll be the first to admit that open shelves at crawling height are not exactly baby friendly...but I've been babyproofing the whole house as I go and doing this required some shifting and moving things around. Which I hadn't gotten to yet. But, I have gotten so sick of going over there and moving him away from the damn thing that today I just had to take the bull by the horns and do it. It wasn't difficult, but I'll probably get yelled at when Jeff gets home because I moved a big chest all by myself. But I swear, I didn't stress my body at all. And my poor husband has been run ragged off his feet shovelling our sidewalks, his parents sidewalks, and my dad's sidewalks. He barely made it out of bed this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's done, and I can breathe easy for a while. I know he'll eventually figure out how to lift the lid to the chest far enough up so that it'll stay up, but it'll take a while and for now this will work. Plus he's not tall enough to reach into the chest to get anything out. Woohoo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-3187485227035366651?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/3187485227035366651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=3187485227035366651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3187485227035366651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/3187485227035366651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/01/babyproofing-continues.html' title='The babyproofing continues...'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-8023500712249565543</id><published>2009-01-10T22:20:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T22:50:34.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We've always been kinda extreme.</title><content type='html'>Wow, it's been a while! With the excitement of Christmas and New Years and just LIFE, and the bone-deep exhaustion I have been experiencing I just haven't been able to bring myself to post. And, that tiredness that I speak of? Well that has actually been explained. Come this September we'll be adding another little Panchuk to our family! I am 6 weeks pregnant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a bit of a rollercoaster, to say the least. I first suspected something might be up almost 3 weeks ago when I didn't get that infamous monthly visitor. So two weeks ago I took a test and it was negative. This put my mind at ease although I was kind of curious as to why I hadn't gotten a period. So last Monday when it still hadn't shown, I took another test. This one came back with a verrrry faint positive which immediately made me freak out. So I took another test on Tuesday and that one came back negative. Okay, confused now! So I had a regular doctors appointment on Wednesday and I had him give me another test in the office. That one was negative as well, and he gave me his opinion that I probably wasn't pregnant but that he'd do a blood test just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well by this point I was thinking to myself "whew, dodged a bullet right there". Seriously thought that the blood test was a formality. Ohhhhh no, lovely Pat from the doctor's office called me on Friday and said that I am, in fact, pregnant. Ah shit. And I confirmed it last night with another test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there ya go. Obviously not planned. Hello, do I LOOK crazy? It's not the end of the world by any means, it's just not exactly the timing we were aiming for. But there's just one thing I have to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It better effing be a girl!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-8023500712249565543?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/8023500712249565543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=8023500712249565543' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8023500712249565543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/8023500712249565543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2009/01/weve-always-been-kinda-extreme.html' title='We&apos;ve always been kinda extreme.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-6787790359834005127</id><published>2008-12-18T11:54:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T12:05:38.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And the babyproofing continues.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Christmascraftsandmisc103.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/Christmascraftsandmisc103.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the sight I walked into when grabbing Nicky out of his crib after his morning nap. And yes, my child was still in his pajama's at 11. For that matter, so am I :) He was a heartbeat away from pulling himself into a standing position and he had the hugest grin on his face when I walked in. Proof that he does indeed smile occasionally for the camera:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Christmascraftsandmisc089.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/Christmascraftsandmisc089.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You better believe that the crib is being dropped before he gets put in there again. Most likely once I hit publish, actually. On the one hand, it's bittersweet that he's getting so big, but then I realise how nice it is that he's not waking up crying all the time now. He actually plays in his crib now (did you see how he was hugging his aquarium? That thing goes on and off all the time). I'm just waiting for him to figure out how to pull himself up on the coffee table...once that happens, I'll have to find another 'safe zone' for all the random stuff that's sitting on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-6787790359834005127?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/6787790359834005127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=6787790359834005127' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6787790359834005127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/6787790359834005127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2008/12/and-babyproofing-continues.html' title='And the babyproofing continues.'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7209599661369871189.post-4031036793013069461</id><published>2008-12-14T21:18:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T21:55:56.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagged!!</title><content type='html'>One of the blogs I keep up with, Steece's Pieces, had a post that tagged everyone. Yay!! By the way, if you get a chance you should really go and check her out, what an amazing person! She's got 4 little one's, quads, who are a year and a half old. She's chronicled her journey from shortly before she found out she was expecting, all the way through and has such a positive spirit. Now, I'm a huge fan of those TLC shows, you know the ones, Jon and Kate plus 8, 18 + Counting (or are they up to 19 now?) but the difference between those shows and Suzanne's story is that 4 seems just slightly more realistic than 8, or pumping out child after child after child after child. You get the feeling that, oh crap, that could really happen. From what I understand, fertility drugs were a contributing factor, but still 2 of her quads are identical twins so she still woulda had multiples!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, to move on from the praise, here are the rules:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Choose the 4th folder where you store your pictures on your computer&lt;br /&gt;2) Select the 4th picture in the folder&lt;br /&gt;3) Explain the picture&lt;br /&gt;4) Tag 4 people to do the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/?action=view&amp;amp;current=004.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn283/chanipan/004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I had to cheat a little since I only have 3 folders on my laptop right now. If I had been looking on our actual computer then MAN would I have had options! But that computer is now Jeff's and I have no claim to it. Seriously I even felt guilty going on it to play solitaire the other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And before I get sidetracked again, the story behind the picture. This picture was taken a week and a half ago. My mom came up with a really cool idea to make us all feel closer during the holidays since us and my mom are here in Edmonton, and my sister and her husband and son are up in Peace River. We all do the same craft on the same night at the same time and take pictures to share with each other. On this particular night, my mom was over and we were baking cookies, and Kat and her fam were doing the same up north.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now to the tagging part. Hmmm since I've never really participated in this before I don't know how to 'tag'. Who and how do I choose? So I'll take the easy way out and tag all of you that have your own blogs. What I want you to do is leave me the link to your blog post in my comments so that I can take a look too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7209599661369871189-4031036793013069461?l=chanipan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/feeds/4031036793013069461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7209599661369871189&amp;postID=4031036793013069461' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4031036793013069461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7209599661369871189/posts/default/4031036793013069461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chanipan.blogspot.com/2008/12/tagged.html' title='Tagged!!'/><author><name>Chani</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08498758170894740679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_b652D9S77f8/TKo4DWLFDBI/AAAAAAAAAB4/74YmUsOLtVk/S220/aug+23+2+043.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
