<?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-4089165517658966186</id><updated>2011-07-08T01:27:50.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Considering Kelly</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-5137243934853748312</id><published>2009-10-11T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-11T09:18:38.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Up</title><content type='html'>My kids are growing up so fast!  Katelyn is four years old, smart as can be, and attending AWANA Cubbies.  She loves to do "Bible time" with me at home and can quote a solid dozen verse from memory, as well as a handful of hymns we've been singing together.  She is such a loving child, snuggling all the time, and telling us she loves us constantly.  She can't wait to start school at home with me (since her friends Alysse and Jaden are already homeschooled, she thinks its the greatest!).  We work on some "papers" almost every day to get her used to the routine of school and she thrives on it!  She can write her name (albeit somewhat illegibly to people other than me!), knows the names and sounds of all the letters (upper and lowercase), and can trace letters almost perfectly.  I'm so proud of her for all of this, but my continued prayer is less that she would be a smart child and more that she would love and serve Jesus with all her heart.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan is growing more assertive as he approaches his second birthday.  He is still a cuddle bug and a very "easy" child in most senses.  He eats whatever I put in front of him, sleeps like a dream, rarely cries and plays on his own for huge chunks of time.  He has learned the word "no" however and is starting to use it much more frequently.  His will is strong (we've had several stand offs that have lasted anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour and a half!), but his heart is tender (he always wants to hug and snuggle afterwards).  I continue to pray for him to love the Lord at an early age so that he can serve Him all of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart definitely has room to love more children if God (and David!) are willing.  Whether that means more children of our own, adopted little ones, or just the continued opportunity to care for Noah and his future sibling, I'm grateful for the chance to use my gifts in loving and caring for children.  What a blessing they are!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-5137243934853748312?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5137243934853748312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=5137243934853748312' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/5137243934853748312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/5137243934853748312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/10/growing-up.html' title='Growing Up'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-4900910807087011722</id><published>2009-04-30T09:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T09:19:03.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cute Kid Stuff</title><content type='html'>We're watching Dumbo together this morning.  It's probably one of Katelyn's favorite things to watch, but today she did something I've never seen her do before!  She went to her room and got her stuffed baby Dumbo and brought him out to the living room.  She has proceeded to act out all the scenes with her little Dumbo in arms!  She rocks him as Jumbo does, makes him jump when he has hiccops, and helps him hammer in the posts of the circus tents.  It's absolutely adorable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if that wasn't enough cuteness, Jonathan climbed up on the couch (where he looks absolutely adorable because he's so small) to watch as well.  When Casey Jr. comes on screen, he starts huffing and puffing (almost like Lamaze) to make the chugging sound of the train, interspersed with gleeful "Choo-choo's!"  I'm loving it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-4900910807087011722?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/4900910807087011722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=4900910807087011722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4900910807087011722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4900910807087011722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/04/cute-kid-stuff.html' title='Cute Kid Stuff'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-1011906468419716144</id><published>2009-04-30T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T13:18:40.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Katelyn's Marriage Advice</title><content type='html'>Since I'm going to be in a good friend's wedding in a couple of weeks, I sat down with Katelyn today and asked her some stuff - hope you enjoy her answers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katelyn’s Marriage Advice ~ for Aunty Mary &amp; Uncle Jeremy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What’s the most important thing for Aunty Mary and Uncle Jeremy once they get married?  What Mary dresses in&lt;br /&gt;2. Who should be in charge of their family? My mommy (additionally, I should be in charge of the world - so says my little one!)&lt;br /&gt;3. How long should they stay together? Forever&lt;br /&gt;4. Where should they live?  In a house&lt;br /&gt;5. How should they decorate their bedroom? With lamps and beds&lt;br /&gt;6. What should Aunty Mary call Uncle Jeremy? Jeremy (very concrete thinking here)&lt;br /&gt;7. What should Uncle Jeremy call Aunty Mary? Mary&lt;br /&gt;8. What should they do when they get angry? Be mad, then play so they’re happy&lt;br /&gt;9. What should they do when they get sad? Dance the sad swan song (she has a Swan Lake ballet DVD that has a sad swan dance)&lt;br /&gt;10. What should they do when they are happy? Do a happy dance&lt;br /&gt;11. How many kids should they have? 2&lt;br /&gt;12. Should they have boys or girls or one of each? 1 of each&lt;br /&gt;13. What should they name their daughter?  Katelyn Rose(apparently this is the best name for just about every girl in the world!)&lt;br /&gt;14. What should they name their son? Jaden&lt;br /&gt;15. What do you want to say to Aunty Mary? "I love you, Aunty Mary.  Then, can I hug her?"&lt;br /&gt;16. What do you want to say to Uncle Jeremy?  "I love you, too."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-1011906468419716144?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/1011906468419716144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=1011906468419716144' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/1011906468419716144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/1011906468419716144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/04/katelyns-marriage-advice.html' title='Katelyn&apos;s Marriage Advice'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-5945698140042225824</id><published>2009-02-20T22:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T22:49:27.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Katelynism and... random thought by Kelly</title><content type='html'>Katelyn and I took Jonathan to the doctor's office today because he was wheezing.  Turns out he has asthmatic symptoms and an upper respiratory infection, needs antibiotics and breathing treatments for 7-10 days.  Poor little guy.  Katelyn has improved SO much in her visits to the doctor, though, from crying and screaming upon arrival in the parking lot to cheerfully skipping in and informing the nurses and doctor all about her brother's symptoms.  She's like a little mom.  The kids' pediatrician is the best (she was mine when I was a kid!) and is so sweet to Katelyn - even when we go just for Jonathan, she gives Katelyn a lollipop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we'd left and were driving home, Katelyn happily licking her candy, she asked for her water cup.  She said, "Mommy, I'm so drinky!  Drinky and lollipoppy!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had Bible study at our house tonight and about 20 minutes into the study, I needed to go to the bathroom.  I've been drinking tons of water the past week since I've been sick, so potty trips are a frequent part of life.  The reason I bring it up is this: I went 2 1/2 hours past that original need to go before I finally visited the restroom!  I love, love, LOVE the fact that I can do that!  Only moms will understand this thrilling response - I know it's been a while since pregnancy pee trips for me, but still.  I'm THRILLED.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-5945698140042225824?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5945698140042225824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=5945698140042225824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/5945698140042225824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/5945698140042225824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/02/katelynism-and-random-thought-by-kelly.html' title='Katelynism and... random thought by Kelly'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-4846306322300408114</id><published>2009-02-14T16:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T16:19:51.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfXGQXMoI/AAAAAAAAAHs/CTiNPtvnByY/s1600-h/snow20.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfXGQXMoI/AAAAAAAAAHs/CTiNPtvnByY/s320/snow20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302811936672920194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfXGsPctI/AAAAAAAAAHk/QVQRLJY5ZfU/s1600-h/snow19.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfXGsPctI/AAAAAAAAAHk/QVQRLJY5ZfU/s320/snow19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302811936789852882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfW_82OEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/hjNKBZ66dzM/s1600-h/snow18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfW_82OEI/AAAAAAAAAHc/hjNKBZ66dzM/s320/snow18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302811934980454466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfFNVxG2I/AAAAAAAAAHU/OgXi651qrf0/s1600-h/snow15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfFNVxG2I/AAAAAAAAAHU/OgXi651qrf0/s320/snow15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302811629336992610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfFLLH1xI/AAAAAAAAAHM/50-1Lq63BPw/s1600-h/snow13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfFLLH1xI/AAAAAAAAAHM/50-1Lq63BPw/s320/snow13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302811628755474194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfE1Ikz_I/AAAAAAAAAHE/aQPIV53TvSY/s1600-h/snow11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfE1Ikz_I/AAAAAAAAAHE/aQPIV53TvSY/s320/snow11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302811622839209970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Jonathan (above) with his friend, Noah, from church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfErC2SVI/AAAAAAAAAG8/h3CKMx_2OTw/s1600-h/snow7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfErC2SVI/AAAAAAAAAG8/h3CKMx_2OTw/s320/snow7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302811620130834770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfEoQk8JI/AAAAAAAAAG0/mBH0fq6ugxw/s1600-h/snow1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfEoQk8JI/AAAAAAAAAG0/mBH0fq6ugxw/s320/snow1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302811619383111826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-4846306322300408114?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/4846306322300408114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=4846306322300408114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4846306322300408114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4846306322300408114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/02/snow-day.html' title='Snow Day!'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SZdfXGQXMoI/AAAAAAAAAHs/CTiNPtvnByY/s72-c/snow20.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-7116496218162452919</id><published>2009-02-06T08:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T08:49:31.205-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not happy yet</title><content type='html'>"Guess who's coming over to see you today?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Who?" she asked, delightedly.&lt;br /&gt;"Alysse and Jaden!"&lt;br /&gt;"Alysse again and Jaden again?" she asked. (We'd been to their house this week already)&lt;br /&gt;"Yes!  Are you so happy?"&lt;br /&gt;"Nope, not yet!  Not until they get here."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-7116496218162452919?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/7116496218162452919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=7116496218162452919' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/7116496218162452919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/7116496218162452919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/02/not-happy-yet.html' title='Not happy yet'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-4080126184656780133</id><published>2009-02-01T22:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T22:11:52.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Katelyn-isms</title><content type='html'>Katelyn is (still) potty-training and every time I help her into her panties in the morning, I remind her:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now, what do you say when you feel the pee-pees or poo-poos coming?" (Welcome to the world of potty talk)&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, I need to go potty!" she gleefully says.&lt;br /&gt;"That's right, honey.  You just let Mommy know when you need to go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little bit later, she was playing outside and I called to her, "Do you need to go potty, Katelyn?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, Mommy," she said, in a long-suffering tone, "I will &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;=======================================================&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I really love about Katelyn's favorite cartoon, "Wow, Wow Wubbzy", is that it gives her so many cute phrases to say that I wouldn't have thought to teach a 3-year old.  She recently picked up a new one.  Just as we were sitting down to eat (and at just about every meal since), she picked up her fork after the prayer, took a big bite and said, "Variety &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;the spice of life!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-4080126184656780133?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/4080126184656780133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=4080126184656780133' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4080126184656780133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4080126184656780133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/02/more-katelyn-isms.html' title='More Katelyn-isms'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-7021518174478253607</id><published>2009-01-22T16:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T16:54:11.490-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm done with today</title><content type='html'>(In Katelyn's room, first thing in the morning, almost every day:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: Let me open up your curtains and let some sunshine in!&lt;br /&gt;Katelyn: Wow, Mom!  What a beautiful day!&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: Who made this beautiful day?&lt;br /&gt;Katelyn: God did!&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: What do you want to say to Him this morning?&lt;br /&gt;Katelyn: Thank you, God, for the beautiful day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, this is NOT how I started today.  I woke to Jonathan's happy babbling, clanking of toys, etc.  When I walked in to get him up, I noted that his diaper had not managed to contain his nighttime pottying, and there was pee all over his crib.  After hopping in the shower with both kiddos, I stripped his bed and washed the sheets and toys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katelyn had been doing somewhat better with the potty, so when she wanted to wear panties this morning, I agreed.  I kept asking her if she had to go (to keep it in the front of her mind), but she kept saying no.  Then, one time I asked, she started yelling.  Bad sign.  She refused to get up off the couch.  "Why?" you might ask?  She peed on the couch, but of course!  After cleaning her up, I scrubbed the couch and threw her wet clothes in the wash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to WinCo to get some groceries, and while we were there, Katelyn said she needed to go potty.  So, I dragged both kiddos into the bathroom, got into a stall, cleaned off the toilet seat, and got Katelyn undressed.  She then said she didn't need to go.  Too bad!  I told her to try anyway.  No dice.  So I went back out, finished shopping, and then went to the car.  Katelyn hopped in first and climbed into her carseat while I loaded groceries in the car.  Then I carried Jonathan around to put him in his seat.  Katelyn was busy taking off her clothes.  "Why?" you might ask?  She'd peed in the car, but of course!  I snagged her wet clothes and prepared to get some fresh ones from the diaper bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Back Story: We'd got out to eat with my family yesterday for lunch at Olivia's.  At the end of the meal, they brought two small cartons of chocolate ice cream for the kids.  Since both kids needed to get home for their naps, I took the ice cream "to go" and tucked it into the diaper bag.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd forgotten to take the ice cream cartons out of the diaper bag yesterday, and, of course, they'd exploded open in the bag, coating everything.  No spare diaper for Katelyn - no change of clothes.  She had to ride naked in her carseat all the way home (it's only a few minutes away, but still!)  I cleaned up Katelyn, threw her clothes in the wash, and then got to work cleaning out the diaper bag. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put the kids down for their naps and settled in for a nice relaxing time.  Thank God for naptime!  Two hours later, I heard Jonathan waking up.  When I opened his door, I smelled the inevitable afternoon poopy diaper.  What I wasn't expecting was that, as he was wearing pants and a shirt instead of a onesie or a sleeper, he'd gotten into his poopy diaper and proceeded to spread poo EVERYWHERE!  It was in his hair, on his face, on his books and toys, all up and down the sides of the crib... I wanted to cry, but chose instead to pick him upand carry him directly to the shower.  We both got in, fully clothed, and showered off.  After I'd washed off both of us completely, I stepped out and left him to play in the shower while I sanitized everything in his room.  One more load in the washer, and I'm DONE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that's why I'm done with today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-7021518174478253607?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/7021518174478253607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=7021518174478253607' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/7021518174478253607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/7021518174478253607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-done-with-today.html' title='I&apos;m done with today'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-468539143317578429</id><published>2009-01-14T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T22:30:14.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Weight</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I know this sounds like I'm going to go into a long discussion of the extra pounds I've added since my two little ones joined the scene. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's another discussion for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I'm going to talk about one of my most favorite things in the whole world: the feeling of my baby's entire weight resting on me.  I don't think I can adequately give words to describe this feeling, but I'm sure some of you out there know what I mean. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonathan has been having a stuffy nose just about every night for the past week or so.  This causes him to wake up 2-3 times between bedtime (7:30pm) and midnight to sit up and cry a little to clear the breathing passageways.  I could probably just let him do that and he'd lay back down and go back to sleep on his own, but then I'd miss out on the whole subject of this blog! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I creep into his room (trying to let as little light in as possible), grab a pacifier and then lift my little guy up into my arms and slouch down into the rocking chair.  I say slouch, because, to fully enjoy this event you can't really sit up straight.  I lean back as much as possible and lay my boy onto my chest, tucking his little legs up and leaving one arm beneath his bottom to support him.  The other hand is then free to gently rub his back or run my fingers through his baby curls.  He automatically turns his head to one side, tucks one arm under him and (oh, so sweet!) grabs a handful of my shirt and doesn't let go.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, he stopped crying as soon as I picked him up (what a joy to so easily stop his tears!), but he was still somewhat awake when I first sat down.  After a minute or two, he's completely out again and here comes the main event:  the whole of my tiny little guy's weight resting on me.  The trust implied there - he knows I won't drop him! - the peace and security he feels knowing his mommy is holding him.  Each breath I take lifts him up and down, up and down...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no words, really, to say what I mean, but I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;treasure&lt;/span&gt; those moments!  I feel like I could stay there forever.  What a blessing, what an amazing gift God has given to me - entrusting me with the care of this little one!  Feeling his weight on me reminds me again of the privilege and responsibility God gives us in our children, and I'm so grateful for each one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-468539143317578429?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/468539143317578429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=468539143317578429' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/468539143317578429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/468539143317578429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2009/01/baby-weight.html' title='Baby Weight'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-4349008290562530631</id><published>2008-12-16T22:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T22:55:36.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What to get Daddy for Christmas</title><content type='html'>I was shopping with Katelyn today picking up a few last minute gifts for family.  I hadn't even though of having Katelyn pick out something for her Daddy - I figured if she didn't think of it, why should I force her to? - and have him shop with her for something for me, but my sister asked me about that, so the idea was in my head.  So I asked her what she thought Daddy might like for Christmas as a present.  We were wandering down an aisle of knick-knacks and there was a cute one of a daddy/daughter, the pedestal reading "I'll always be Daddy's little girl".  I told her maybe Daddy would like that.  She firmly said, "No, he wouldn't like that.  He wants... a piggy bank!  This one!"  And she proceeded to pick up a ceramic pink piggy.  The people walking the aisle with us chuckled as I explained that Daddy would probably like something else.  She asked, "Why?  Doesn't he like my piggy bank?"  "Well, sure, honey, Daddy loves your piggy bank, but maybe he'd like something different."  She puzzled over that for a few minutes, then left the topic with "Okay, but I still think he'd like the pink one."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SUiiE1p5SBI/AAAAAAAAAGU/FmlOJg6baH4/s1600-h/piggybank.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 119px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SUiiE1p5SBI/AAAAAAAAAGU/FmlOJg6baH4/s320/piggybank.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280648767097882642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-4349008290562530631?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/4349008290562530631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=4349008290562530631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4349008290562530631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4349008290562530631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-to-get-daddy-for-christmas.html' title='What to get Daddy for Christmas'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SUiiE1p5SBI/AAAAAAAAAGU/FmlOJg6baH4/s72-c/piggybank.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-7206853037570842044</id><published>2008-12-14T19:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T19:40:00.659-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A couple of pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SUXPDDxYHqI/AAAAAAAAAGM/IqWWx9npfuQ/s1600-h/jonathan_first_bday+-+097.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279853789620739746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SUXPDDxYHqI/AAAAAAAAAGM/IqWWx9npfuQ/s320/jonathan_first_bday+-+097.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SUXPC_O1IjI/AAAAAAAAAGE/yl-_33TMIfA/s1600-h/IMG_8963.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279853788402098738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SUXPC_O1IjI/AAAAAAAAAGE/yl-_33TMIfA/s320/IMG_8963.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-7206853037570842044?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/7206853037570842044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=7206853037570842044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/7206853037570842044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/7206853037570842044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/12/couple-of-pictures.html' title='A couple of pictures'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SUXPDDxYHqI/AAAAAAAAAGM/IqWWx9npfuQ/s72-c/jonathan_first_bday+-+097.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-6290700907633679803</id><published>2008-12-14T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T18:48:23.997-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Hide" and Seek</title><content type='html'>So I'm sitting here at the computer, checking my facebook and myspace, returning emails, etc.  David's playing with the kiddos in the back of the house.  I mostly tuned out what they're doing, but some loud shouting caught my attention.  David's counting to ten and saying "Ready or not, here I come!  Hmmm... where could Katelyn be?"  I start to smile at their game, then start laughing as I hear Katelyn shout "Here I am, Daddy!"   He says, "Is she in the bathroom?"  "NO! Daddy, I'm in Jonathan's room!" she shouts.  "Hmm... not in the bathroom.  Is she maybe in laundry room."   "NO!  I'm in Jonathan's room, Daddy!  Come get me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she's not really hiding, but the game seems like a lot of fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-6290700907633679803?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/6290700907633679803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=6290700907633679803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/6290700907633679803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/6290700907633679803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/12/hide-and-seek.html' title='&quot;Hide&quot; and Seek'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-8357367141288734409</id><published>2008-12-11T21:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T22:01:55.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing....</title><content type='html'>While David and I were at choir practice tonight, my parents were babysitting for us.  My dad (whom our kids call Papa) was playing with both of them in Katelyn's room when she came up with a new game for them - "Let's have a show!"   She wanted Papa to introduce her to the "stage" in front of her mirror, and then he made music for her to dance to.  I guess she did this with him for 15 minutes or so, adding little bits to the game as they went.  My dad started to add to the introduction until it was something like this: "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to welcome to the Disneyland stage, Miss Katelyn Rose Marley!"  Then he'd cheer, she'd run in, say "Tada!" and then start dancing.  Then she decided that she wanted to do the talking and introduce Papa.  She began, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to welcome Papa Rose Marley!"  She later (to save time I guess) shortened the intro title to "Papa Rose".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, we need to work on what full names are, but I think Papa Rose is pretty catchy, don't you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-8357367141288734409?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/8357367141288734409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=8357367141288734409' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/8357367141288734409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/8357367141288734409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/12/introducing.html' title='Introducing....'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-9043508818634645398</id><published>2008-11-05T15:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T15:09:14.371-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween Conversations</title><content type='html'>Katelyn has been enthralled with dressing up for Halloween, even though it's over. She keeps asking me, "Mommy, what did you be for Halloween?" And I'll remind her that I dressed up as a fairy, just like her (no, you don't get to see pictures of that). So I asked her what Jonathan was and she said, "He's a little skunker." Ahh... so cute. Here's a pic of the skunker himself and his big sister, the pink fairy: &lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265314262474950594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SRInbMWeB8I/AAAAAAAAAF8/EMdtcKSSCtI/s320/cropIMG_8919.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265314258540745474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SRIna9se0wI/AAAAAAAAAF0/DTWFkfL3f0I/s320/IMG_8912.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-9043508818634645398?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/9043508818634645398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=9043508818634645398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/9043508818634645398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/9043508818634645398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/11/halloween-conversations.html' title='Halloween Conversations'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SRInbMWeB8I/AAAAAAAAAF8/EMdtcKSSCtI/s72-c/cropIMG_8919.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-4938237512472535374</id><published>2008-10-13T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T21:42:55.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Katelyn-isms</title><content type='html'>We went out to dinner with my parents tonight to celebrate my mom's birthday.  Katelyn ate her beans and rice, and then wanted to make "strawberry soup" in her cup.  Papa convinced her that adding various ingredients to her soda would not be tasty, and gave her the mostly empty salsa bowl to make soup in instead.  She gleefully added rice, beans, cheese, chip pieces, etc. and stirred away.  When she was satisfied that it was done, she actually took a bite of her "yummy soup" - I wish I had a picture here to show you her face, but she stuck her tongue out and said "Yucky!"  Followed promptly by, "Here, Papa, you eat some!"  What a sharer!  (P.S. for those of you who are curious, Papa did actually take a bite of her soup and then laughed with her about how yucky it was!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-4938237512472535374?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/4938237512472535374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=4938237512472535374' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4938237512472535374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/4938237512472535374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/10/more-katelyn-isms.html' title='More Katelyn-isms'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-3277444865652770364</id><published>2008-10-13T17:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T17:29:07.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My daughter is Don Quixote</title><content type='html'>Keri, Katelyn and I were driving out to 29 Palms last weekend for our cousin Matthew's 2nd birthday.  On the way, we passed hundreds of windmills and every time she saw one, Katelyn would shout "Windmill!"  She spent lots of time talking about them and she even tried to count them (1-26, then 27, 28, 29, 26, 27, 28, 29, 26, 27, 28, 29, 40!).  Finally, she told me, "Mommy, we got to drive right up there and bump into that windmill!"  Why?  Because it's there!  No other reason needed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-3277444865652770364?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/3277444865652770364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=3277444865652770364' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/3277444865652770364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/3277444865652770364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-daughter-is-don-quixote.html' title='My daughter is Don Quixote'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-8506042027658441983</id><published>2008-09-12T10:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T10:55:57.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Favorites at 3</title><content type='html'>So (stealing the idea from a friend's blog), I sat down with Katelyn today and asked her about her favorite things now that she's 3 years old.  Here are her answers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Color - white&lt;br /&gt;Toy - Tambourine (she doesn't even own one... though there's one at Mooma's house)&lt;br /&gt;Thing to eat - bananas (what she was eating when I asked her)&lt;br /&gt;Place to go - Disneyland (though she first said "Carls' Jr for chicken stars" and "Old MacDonald's for chicken nuggets, before I narrowed it down to NOT a restaurant)&lt;br /&gt;Book - Elmo Brushes His Teeth&lt;br /&gt;Ice cream - vanilla&lt;br /&gt;Song - I may never march in the infantry&lt;br /&gt;Bible Story - Cinderella (it's in Leviticus... you know...) and Noah's Big Boat&lt;br /&gt;Dinner that Mommy makes - Chicken and rice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also wanted me to write down another of her favorites: tools and fixing things!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-8506042027658441983?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/8506042027658441983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=8506042027658441983' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/8506042027658441983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/8506042027658441983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/09/favorites-at-3.html' title='Favorites at 3'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-1951379683065057681</id><published>2008-08-26T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T21:18:58.142-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to YOU!</title><content type='html'>My baby girl turned three years old today!  We had her Mickey Mouse Clubhouse themed birthday party on Sunday with a small group of family and friends - she wasn't overwhelmed and had a great time.  We started out forcing our guests to watch all her birthday montages (just three of them, but they're probably 15 minutes each!), which I could watch over and over again.  I can't believe how quickly time has gone by.  She's not a baby anymore!  Anyway, after the DVDs, we had hotdogs and hamburgers for dinner, followed by present opening, swimming (for the kiddos) and then cake (a fantastic Mickey Mouse creation made by my friend Mandy).  It was a great evening and Katelyn was thrilled.  Of course, she knew it wasn't &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; her birthday yet - that was today, with a trip to Disneyland!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We picked up TeeTee on our way to the park this morning and got there and in the park in record time, though I did lose my pass briefly and ended up paying for parking even though I didn't have to!  We met Aunt Amanda, Alysse and Jaden near the parking structure and rode in together.  Katelyn got her first Disneyland pass with her own picture on it - quite exciting.  Now that she's three, apparently she'll be doing SO much more in the park that she should have to pay the same as the adults do (&lt;em&gt;I really can't believe that the kids annual passes are the same cost as the adults!)&lt;/em&gt;.  We went straight back to the Princess Fantasy Faire where Katelyn had planned to get her hair done with Alysse, but at the last minute, she freaked out and decided she'd rather have a new princess nightgown than get her hair done.  Fair enough!  Alysse's hair turned out adorably and Jaden got a blue dragon painted on his face - super cool!  The kids went to the stage for the Royal Coronation Ceremony where they learned to bow and curtsy, dance and sing like princes &amp;amp; princesses.  It was precious.  Then we met with three Disney princesses and got pictures with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katelyn had been talking about going on the carousel for the past few weeks, so we headed there next.  As we waited in line, she enthused about "going up then down, up then down" and she eagerly looked for a horse to ride... however, once we got her on a horse, she freaked out and wanted me to ride with her.  She held her hands over her ears the whole time.  *Sigh* My sensitive little princess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then went to California Adventure to have lunch at Ariel's Grotto with the princesses (sensing a theme here, aren't you!?), but were turned away.  Apparently they only seat at specific times, though this isn't mentioned anywhere online or in the brochures you can pick up at the park entrance.  Very frustrating, especially as the day was REALLY hot and we were definitely ready to sit in some air conditioning and eat!  To keep the kids from getting upset, we went to the Bug's Life land where there are some water fountains to play in.  The kids all loved this, and we stayed there almost an hour.  We moved on to have lunch at the Storyteller's Cafe at the Grand Californian hotel.  This was a GREAT idea, as the place was quiet and cool, and we were seated immediately.  The waiter brought ice water pretty much as soon as we sat down, including cool collectible cups for the kids.  The menu was kid friendly, but great for us grownups too, and the breadbasket was kept full.  What a blessing!  At the end of the meal, Katelyn got a cute little chocolate mousse cake with a Mickey Mouse head in chocolate on top, plus two chocolate chip cookies for the other kids - all for FREE!  I was amazed!  This place really knew how to make you feel special!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was getting close to rush hour traffic time, so we had to decide to either leave or stay another couple hours.  Katelyn wanted to "run around", so we stopped in a grassy area at the hotel for a while, then headed to the car.  She fell asleep 5 minutes into the trip and slept almost all the way home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We met Mooma, Uncle Josh, Daddy and Jonathan at home and went to John's Incredible Pizza for dinner (at Katelyn's request).  She barely ate, then dragged Daddy to the arcade/game area.  We got home around 8pm - late for her, but it's only her birthday one day a year! - and she went down like a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just have to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love that Katelyn thinks that "Happy Birthday" is some sort of greeting.  Every time a Disney castperson said it to her, she said "Happy birthday to YOU!"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love that, though Katelyn is very sensitive, she thinks nothing of stripping off all her clothes in the middle of the Bug's Life water play place (don't worry, I didn't let her, she just started to!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love that Katelyn is talking about today like it was the best day of her life, even though she cried at just about everything we'd planned to do.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love that after John's Pizza tonight, I drove the car up to the door to pick up my family and Katelyn said "I missed you, Mommy!" and "I love you so much, Mommy" even though I'd only been gone for a minute.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love that Katelyn is a snuggle bug and that, even though she's three now, she still wants "to hold me" (her words).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love Katelyn Rose Marley!!!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-1951379683065057681?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/1951379683065057681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=1951379683065057681' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/1951379683065057681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/1951379683065057681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/08/happy-birthday-to-you.html' title='Happy Birthday to YOU!'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-1394528725418164517</id><published>2008-08-20T21:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T22:18:47.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tag! You're It!</title><content type='html'>I've been tagged by my aunt to answer the following questions with pictures, so here goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Where was I born?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3r45ow4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/DLtTEvV2oHc/s1600-h/desert+hospital.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236832800105612162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3r45ow4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/DLtTEvV2oHc/s320/desert+hospital.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Desert Hospital in Palm Springs - though it's called something else now. I called my dad and asked him where I was born and he couldn't remember... but when I listed hospitals in Palm Springs, he figured it out. Good ol' dad!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A guilty pleasure&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3sJszXvI/AAAAAAAAAEM/M-es7bcIGjA/s1600-h/books.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236832804615184114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3sJszXvI/AAAAAAAAAEM/M-es7bcIGjA/s320/books.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay, okay, so I know there shouldn't be anything guilty about reading, but the guilt part comes from all the money I spend on books!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite movies&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3sPCA4bI/AAAAAAAAAEU/UbVHNiqJQEA/s1600-h/dark+knight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236832806046327218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3sPCA4bI/AAAAAAAAAEU/UbVHNiqJQEA/s320/dark+knight.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have to agree with Aunt Annette - my favorite movie currently is The Dark Knight. Just fantastic. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite restaurants&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3sIsHBfI/AAAAAAAAAEc/21_GdErRtMM/s1600-h/macaroni+grill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236832804343842290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3sIsHBfI/AAAAAAAAAEc/21_GdErRtMM/s320/macaroni+grill.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So I really like to eat at Macaroni Grill, but if we're talking about frequency of visits...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3sXVvNuI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ug1DNK01k08/s1600-h/del+taco.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236832808276539106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3sXVvNuI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ug1DNK01k08/s320/del+taco.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite color&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz43r6mSyI/AAAAAAAAAEs/PBoBBks9yYo/s1600-h/green.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834102290041634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz43r6mSyI/AAAAAAAAAEs/PBoBBks9yYo/s320/green.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite place to shop&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz43_br_7I/AAAAAAAAAE0/uRbHCou5a-8/s1600-h/target.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834107529101234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz43_br_7I/AAAAAAAAAE0/uRbHCou5a-8/s320/target.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I can spend entirely too much money here - clothes for the kiddos, scrapbook stuff, cleaning supplies...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite vacation&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz43zAT-pI/AAAAAAAAAE8/L9ewKCQBgHI/s1600-h/hawaii.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834104193055378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz43zAT-pI/AAAAAAAAAE8/L9ewKCQBgHI/s320/hawaii.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Hawaii with my parents, Josh and Keri in 2003&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite car&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz439xDl5I/AAAAAAAAAFE/9rK4WXSkYiQ/s1600-h/ugly+car.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834107081856914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz439xDl5I/AAAAAAAAAFE/9rK4WXSkYiQ/s320/ugly+car.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I really don't have one, but I can show you one I don't like&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite flower&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz44PZpt9I/AAAAAAAAAFM/qpRVFGgpT6A/s1600-h/roses.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834111815530450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz44PZpt9I/AAAAAAAAAFM/qpRVFGgpT6A/s320/roses.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dream career&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz5p3dwLoI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Gz8Ab8uE--M/s1600-h/chef.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834964383739522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz5p3dwLoI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Gz8Ab8uE--M/s320/chef.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'd absolutely love to be a professionally trained chef. You'll notice I didn't say I want to be a chef, just want the training. I'd love to be able to cook that good at home for entertaining and sharing with my family and friends. Other than that, I love my current career: Wife and Mom!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz5p_KTvaI/AAAAAAAAAFc/iX5A6ZhMvow/s1600-h/housewife.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834966449667490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="150" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz5p_KTvaI/AAAAAAAAAFc/iX5A6ZhMvow/s320/housewife.jpg" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz5p5oSzGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/Irw-nwcazzU/s1600-h/mommy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834964964822114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="146" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz5p5oSzGI/AAAAAAAAAFk/Irw-nwcazzU/s320/mommy.jpg" width="152" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite hobby&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz5qGsIacI/AAAAAAAAAFs/lHCPQtPeQ0Q/s1600-h/reading.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236834968470579650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz5qGsIacI/AAAAAAAAAFs/lHCPQtPeQ0Q/s320/reading.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I could, I'd tag my best friend, Amanda, to do the same.  She has no blog, but maybe she'll figure out something on her website. :o)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-1394528725418164517?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/1394528725418164517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=1394528725418164517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/1394528725418164517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/1394528725418164517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/08/tag-youre-it.html' title='Tag! You&apos;re It!'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SKz3r45ow4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/DLtTEvV2oHc/s72-c/desert+hospital.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-3961710835127022179</id><published>2008-08-18T11:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T11:38:30.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm too little to get in the TV - and other wisdom from the mouths of children</title><content type='html'>I was sitting and watching TV with Katelyn one morning when Mickey Mouse came on the screen.  Knowing we'd be visiting Disneyland soon, I asked her if she wanted to give Mickey a hug (meaning when we went to Dland).  She replied with the title phrase - "Mommy, I'm too little to get in the TV!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katelyn has had a slight fear of elevators for the past few months - not exactly sure why!  She's also been potty training.  You may not &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; those two things have anything in common, but wait for it...  One day I took her to go potty at a restaurant bathroom.  As I sat her down on the potty, she looked around the stall and asked "Mommy, is this an elevator?  Are we going up, or down?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My best friend and I are discussing taking a road trip up to Oregon to visit her family there.  We'll have to take our kids with us, but I was trying to figure a way to see if Jonathan could stay home - would make the long drive much easier!  - and I was concerned about finding child care for him.  My friend's daughter, who just turned 6, logically asked why David couldn't take care of Jonathan.  When I explained that David would have to be working while we were gone, she thought about it for a minute, then said, "That's easy.  Uncle David could just take him to work.  He could work, work, work, until Jonathan got hungry.  Then he could feed him, then work.  Feed, work, feed, work.  See!  It's easy!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-3961710835127022179?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/3961710835127022179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=3961710835127022179' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/3961710835127022179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/3961710835127022179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-too-little-to-get-in-tv-and-other.html' title='I&apos;m too little to get in the TV - and other wisdom from the mouths of children'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-6644213976483072842</id><published>2008-07-22T14:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T14:15:59.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe No Surgery</title><content type='html'>So, after talking over my surgery situation with my physical therapist (a family friend), he recommended one more orthopedic surgeon to get an opinion from before I made any decisions.  Since he’s pretty familiar with most of the ortho’s in this area, I figured it made sense to follow his advice.  So, I made an appointment with yet another doctor for this coming Monday, the 28th.  However, since my surgery was scheduled for the 25th, that wouldn’t do much good!  I cancelled the surgery for this Friday and didn’t reschedule at this time, so I could wait and see what the other two orthopedics say after reviewing my situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met with Dr. Haider today, the doctor who did my uncle’s fusion surgery 6 months ago.  My P.T. said this doctor tends to lean towards fusions more than alternate methods, so I was all prepared for him to give me a quick “Yes, you need surgery.”  Thank goodness I was wrong!  Though it does make things more confusing, it’s still nice to hear someone who is as knowledgeable as him tell me I don’t need surgery right now!  Basically he said that my L4 disc is in really bad shape (as we knew already), but that there is no need to worry about paralysis.  He said a fusion wouldn’t be needed at this point, but if I get really bad sciatica pain again sometime, a diskectomy might be appropriate, fusion if the low back pain is intolerable.  He gave me a booklet of things to do to help keep my back in shape, plus encouraged my doing physical therapy exercises to strengthen my core and back muscles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see the other doctor on Monday morning, and now I’m not sure at all what to expect, but I’m thrilled to not be getting cut open this Friday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-6644213976483072842?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/6644213976483072842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=6644213976483072842' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/6644213976483072842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/6644213976483072842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/07/maybe-no-surgery.html' title='Maybe No Surgery'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-5217805526606525767</id><published>2008-07-06T22:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T22:22:46.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anything But Surgery</title><content type='html'>Had my orthopedic appointment and after seeing the newest MRI and X-rays, the doctor is recommending fusion surgery on three levels. (1) the level (L4) that has degenerated the most and shows major protrusion, (2) the level below that one (L5), not because the disc has any issues, but because my vertebrae are not aligned and the bones aren't giving much stability, and (3) the level right above the worst one (L3), because it's showing degeneration already and fusion below it will put more pressure on it.  After much prayer and consideration, we went ahead and scheduled the surgery for Friday, July 25th.  However, we wanted to get as much information in the meantime that we could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to call my physical therapist from the last time I hurt my back (he's also a family friend) and see what he thinks.  He knows all the orthopedic surgeons in the area, so his opinion about them is valuable.  He also might think that I don't need to pursue surgery at this point, and might suggest more P.T. instead.  I see my chiropractor on Thursday afternoon and plan on getting his input on the situation as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, my uncle (who recently had fusion surgery on his L5 disc) was visiting us this evening and I wanted to pick his brain about the pain he had pre-surgery and how the recovery has gone since surgery.  Basically, he was having some similar symptoms prior to surgery that I was experiencing this Feb-June: sciatica pain down the right leg, pain in the low back, etc.   He said when he came to after the surgery, he was in so much pain he wanted to kill the doctor for not telling him how much pain he'd be in.  He said the pain continued to be excruciating for a good while afterwards, though he was able to go home in 3 days.  The part that got me was that he said today, six months after the surgery, though he doesn't have the sciatica or low back pain, he is stiff and sore and still can't/won't bend over.  I can't imagine not being able to bend down for 6+ months!  It's a zillion times a day position for a stay-at-home mom of an almost 3 year old and a 7 month old baby!  As my uncle was leaving the house this evening, my mom (his sister) wanted to take a look at his scar from the surgery.  We saw it and mom said, "You'll have one just like it!" to me.  My uncle said - "Maybe.  I had a friend who had to have fusion on several levels and they had to do a 14+ inch incision from his stomach to his side, plus the 6-7 inch one on his back in order to get at the spine the way they needed to.  Maybe you'll have scars like &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I share all this because, before tonight, I was pretty scared about surgery.  Now, I'm terrified.  I'm willing to do &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;anything&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; to avoid surgery.  I plan on checking in with my physical therapist and starting that up again.  I need to find a nutritionist/accountability person to help me eat better, and someone (personal trainer, etc.) to help me exercise, since my weight is a serious problem for my back issues.  Somehow we'll have to find the money to do this because I just can't face the idea of surgery if that's what I have to look forward to.  At least not at this point while I'm still feeling pretty good.  I covet the prayers of my family and friends - this is the toughest thing I've had to deal with in my life so far, which I'm grateful for!  Some people have it much worse!  But it's still hard for me and I'll take all the help and support I can get!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-5217805526606525767?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/5217805526606525767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=5217805526606525767' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/5217805526606525767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/5217805526606525767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/07/anything-but-surgery.html' title='Anything But Surgery'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-3945969826483652775</id><published>2008-07-02T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T10:42:42.061-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grain of Rice Principle</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I'm sure you've all heard of this already - the grain of rice thing.  If someone gives just one grain of rice, it's not enough to feed anyone, but if large numbers of people each give a grain, then we can make some dinner (or at least a side dish).  Now obviously there's a deeper meaning to this principle than just rice... we're talking about money, of course!  I remember thinking through this one day, how if all the students at CBU (my alma mater) would give just $1 each month, they could sponsor 100 kids through Compassion or a similar program.  If all the churches in the U.S. would do the same, - heck, even just the churches in Riverside - we could start to seriously address the issues of poverty and hunger in the world! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is all on my mind because a good friend of mine, who is getting married this Saturday, asked that in lieu of a gift for the wedding, for people to sponsor a child through Compassion.  David and I have been sponsoring a little boy in Ethiopia since 2004 (Nahom), and decided to pick a little girl from Ethiopia as our gift for Rose &amp;amp; Aaron's wedding.  I'm very excited about it - have a whole wall and shelf at my house set up to display "our kids'" pictures and to remind us to pray for Africa, Ethiopia in particular.  We picked a little girl, 7 years old, named Kalkidan who loves music (plays an instrument and loves to sing), since music is such a big part of our lives.  I think sponsoring a child in this way is great thing to do, not only for David and I, but for our kids to be a part of as they grow up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, to bring this principle down to home, I'm thinking it'd be a great thing if everyone I knew would give &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt; just a couple bucks a month...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-3945969826483652775?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/3945969826483652775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=3945969826483652775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/3945969826483652775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/3945969826483652775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/07/grain-of-rice-principle.html' title='Grain of Rice Principle'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-8596875102683783005</id><published>2008-07-01T14:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T15:11:41.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Incredibly smart, or incredibly stupid</title><content type='html'>One + Two = See Above Title&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One:  I'm very tired.  Jonathan has gotten in the habit of dropping his pacifier 2-5 times a night and crying loudly for us to replace it for him.  In addition to these wakings, my back still doesn't let me sleep in one position for very long, so I constantly rotate back and forth like a rotisserie chicken throughout the night (*ding!* That side is done! Now roll!).  At least the late pregnancy bathroom breaks throughout the night have ceased!  It's amazing how I can go 8+ hours without peeing now... (I'm still close enough to the experience to be astounded by this).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two: I &lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;love&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt; to read.  My parents instilled in me a great love of reading from my early childhood.  Apparently my sister taught me to read when I was 3 years old.  She came home from kindergarten every day and spent the afternoon teaching me what she'd learned (I have to take my parents word on this evidence of my early genius since said genius does not extend to my ability to remember things.).  Since then I have spent countless hours reading - historical fiction, devotionals, non-fiction, foodie books, romances, mysteries, law novels, fantasies, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the side effects of all this reading is that I have come down with CPD syndrome.  For those of you unfamiliar with this term, let me break it down for you.  Half the world's readers have Can't Put it Down syndrome*.  This terrible disease compels the reader to complete an entire book without putting it down regardless of circumstances around him or her.    None of the prissy "I'll just read til the end of the chapter" stuff - this is hard core, can't stop reading until the final page.  It's incredibly difficult to live with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the dilemma:  "they" say it's important to instill a lifelong love of reading into your children by reading to them at least 20 minutes a day.  My parents did this for me - in fact, they probably exceeded this amount 99% of the time.  As a result, I have CPD, and though I'm ridiculously tired, I spent 3 hours last night finishing a book when I should have been sleeping.  So, tell me, am I incredibly smart (i.e. "lifelong love of reading" wins out) or am I incredibly stupid!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*This statement does not have any valid research to support it... I made it up... so sue me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-8596875102683783005?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/8596875102683783005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=8596875102683783005' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/8596875102683783005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/8596875102683783005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/07/incredibly-smart-or-incredibly-stupid.html' title='Incredibly smart, or incredibly stupid'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4089165517658966186.post-588445847291853754</id><published>2008-06-27T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T14:46:14.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog</title><content type='html'>I've found that I don't blog much on MySpace, so I figured I'd take up more space online with... no blogs... well, we'll see.  I'll try to write here and keep you up to date on the workings of my mind.  This is also a nice change from my short writings on my family website.  So, enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4089165517658966186-588445847291853754?l=consideringkelly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/feeds/588445847291853754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4089165517658966186&amp;postID=588445847291853754' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/588445847291853754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4089165517658966186/posts/default/588445847291853754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://consideringkelly.blogspot.com/2008/06/new-blog.html' title='New Blog'/><author><name>Kelly</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12558233349027080913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SqhcXpWjw04/SlQ3R5yriaI/AAAAAAAAAIE/2iEANOaTJms/S220/IMG_5858.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
