tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45838396085243683112024-03-14T06:48:08.506-04:00Holly's House...not a perfect mom's blog...A mommy blog focused on parenting my four kids...also a Down Syndrome blog. Mostly funny mom blog.Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-72323948612656846602011-09-18T20:00:00.000-04:002011-09-18T19:59:34.517-04:00If You Love Me You'll Follow MeHey guys guess what?!<br />
<br />
I moved! Yeah! I'm a big girl now! Unfortunately, it hasn't been without some bumps in the road...<br />
<br />
My move to Wordpress has left many of my wonderful, fabulous readers behind...and though my guy is diligently working on trying to remedy the situation, I don't want any of my fabulous readers to go a day without laughing at me-er-with me, and my attempts of mothering my unruly brood, or just any of the crazy shit that happens in my daily life...<br />
<br />
So please <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/HollysHousenotAPerfectMomsBlog">click here</a> to go to my feed and resubscribe...<br />
<br />
And for those of you who follow via GFC, it's so crazy...but if you will unfollow and refollow, you will receive all of my posts from now on...<br />
<br />
I know, I know...crazy! And like I said, it should be fixed shortly, but I miss you guys...sniff sniff...<br />
<br />
Thanks guys...you know I love you!<br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-76300379898128164072011-09-01T23:38:00.000-04:002011-09-01T23:38:50.529-04:00The Question of the DayWhy? Why do my kids hate me? Specifically why is it Jack that always makes me stop and go <i>say what?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Setting: my couch, as I crochet baby blankets for needy children*....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Jack: (sidles up to me with his face an inch from mine) DO YOU LIKE IT WHEN I CALL YOU </i>BIG MAMA?<br />
<br />
<i>Me: No, actually I don't like it when you call me Big Mama...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Jack: Well, I do, cuz you're my mama and you're BIG**! So I'm going to call you Big Mama all the time***!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Me: Go away....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
And he did scurry off...but not before he says, <i>I love you more than a baby's butt!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Seriously, what's up with that kid?<br />
<br />
<i>*or pissing away my time reading blogs, tweeting, facebooking, and emailing....totally the same thing</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**and really? I'm down to a svelte 166.6**** pounds which leaves me in the overweight category! 25.6 more pounds and I'll be normal! yeah! All this shaking my ass in Zumba is working...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>***and he has taken to calling me Big Mama all. the. fucking. time.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>****isn't that number so creepy? that can't be good karma....</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-63717219818980356792011-08-30T08:56:00.000-04:002011-08-30T08:56:13.591-04:00Happiness is in the PopSometimes I'm ashamed of myself...<br />
<br />
Sometimes I'm a bad mommy...<br />
<br />
But sometimes I just can't help it...<br />
<br />
Especially when this is staring at me...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YOlH9dDFIVxmqPFcEn1Inq1XfYxeNbXh2DjDH5mmkJM0sp6yt5VLiD-pElF17lIr-Tjoz1h0RwF1nH4VnPPIyWmqxN9hsK9PMejWRBurB45g5Bvr5YXhKshH_BtbnAxPp9kc5b1dtGk/s1600/blake+pimple.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YOlH9dDFIVxmqPFcEn1Inq1XfYxeNbXh2DjDH5mmkJM0sp6yt5VLiD-pElF17lIr-Tjoz1h0RwF1nH4VnPPIyWmqxN9hsK9PMejWRBurB45g5Bvr5YXhKshH_BtbnAxPp9kc5b1dtGk/s490/blake+pimple.png" /></a></div><br />
Wow...wow...<br />
<br />
Do you see what I see?<br />
<br />
Yes, that's right...Blake had some sort of big whitehead pimple thing in the crook of his chin..maybe an infected bug bite? Who knows?<br />
<br />
But one thing I did know was that I had to pop it. <i>I had to squeeze it until the pus came out!</i><br />
<br />
I love to pop. If I see a whitehead I have to pop it. I get excited, my adrenaline starts to flow, I get antsy, <i>I must pop it! </i>My hearts starts beating faster, my palms get sweaty, I get a big grin on my face in anticipation...<br />
<br />
Bad habit? Sure. But it's a fun one...almost as much fun as <a href="http://www.notaperfectmomsblog.com/2010/12/confessions-of-nose-picker.html">picking my nose</a>...<br />
<br />
One problem though...the whitehead belonged to Blake and he wanted no popping to take place.<br />
<br />
I'm not proud of this...but I <i>begged </i>him...I begged and pleaded and told him it would make his mommy so happy, that it wouldn't hurt, that if he really loved me he'd let me do it...I may even have stomped my feet and had a mini* tantrum...<br />
<br />
And then I told him I'd put chocolates in his lunchbox...<br />
<br />
SCORE!<br />
<br />
<i>Oh, it was so good! If I could do that for a living I would be a happy woman...it's <strike>almost</strike></i><i> orgasmic!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I wish the actual pop took longer**...but it was ready and the pus came right out..<i>.oh, the euphoria...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I wish I could convey how much I love to pop white junky pus filled pores...it is one of the things I truly love to do...the satisfaction is instantaneous and indescribable...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Oh, you'll have to excuse me now, I'm getting myself all worked up again just thinking about it...<br />
<br />
<i>*read major</i><br />
<br />
<i>**I hate when I think it's going to be a long pop but it all comes out at once, I feel like I miss it, like I'm not prepared, and that makes me sad***</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>***because yes, I'm that crazy...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>****the awesome<a href="http://www.minxdesign.ca/"> Minx </a>put up my "like me" tab on the top right of my blog, so if you don't like me on facebook yet, what the hell are you waiting for?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>*****I'm going to be doing some bloggy stuff to my site over the week, so if it looks wonky, that's the deal...but never you worry, I'll be back...</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-21372243478172096952011-08-25T14:31:00.000-04:002011-08-25T14:31:00.271-04:00Carline for DummiesI know what you're all thinking...why on God's green Earth does Holly need to write a post explaining carline? It's obviously simple..even for those people that may be a tad bit stupid...one drives up in their car and their child(ren) are delivered safely right to them*. And besides, hasn't she <a href="http://www.notaperfectmomsblog.com/2010/11/and-its-only-tuesday.html">bitched about carline before</a>?<br />
<br />
Well, I hate to be the one to inform you that some of the human population is too dumb to figure that out**...so I'm going to first list the things to <i>not do</i> while waiting in carline...<br />
<br />
1. Don't get out of your car. Seriously. Little Susie is old enough to buckle herself in now, after all, she's in fifth grade, and you're holding up the whole damn line...not to mention breaking the rules...<br />
<br />
2. Don't go in the bus lane. Did you really think the rest of us waiting were too fucking stupid to see the whole empty lane next to us? Did you think we were all going to get out of our vehicles and applaud you for your brilliant thinking? Did you think we were all sitting in our mini vans wondering what that big empty lane was for and wishing that we could go in it? Even if you're new to this whole carline thing, just follow the masses...<br />
<br />
3. Don't cut me off. Seriously, I can tell if you were just too stupid to know not to go in the bus lane or if you did know but just wanted to get to the front. I refuse to let you in...yup, I said it! <i>I'm not letting you in!</i> Some other parent will have to...and honestly, you're lucky I don't get out of my Sedona and slash your tires for being such a huge asshat...<br />
<br />
4. Don't drive your golf cart. It just annoys me...and believe me, you want to be on my good side (see tire slashing comment above)<br />
<br />
Now, let's go over the proper way to do carline...<br />
<br />
Drive your damn vehicle up to the line and wait. When the line moves forward, go forward. Allow the teacher to put your child in his seat. Drive away....<br />
<br />
Repeat for the rest of the year...<br />
<br />
Really people, can you handle this? <br />
<br />
I hope so, but if not I have my tire slashing knife ready...you've been adequately warned....<br />
<br />
<i>*unless you're one of my friends, whose son was put on a bus to the Boys and Girls Club...oops, but no worries-he was recovered and thrilled to have a little adventure! Yeah!</i> <i>Public schools rock!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**naturally I'm not talking about any of you fine fine people...if you read my blog then obviously you're a genius...but please feel free to share this with your not so bright friends...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>***if anyone was wondering how Jack is doing after his<a href="http://www.notaperfectmomsblog.com/2011/08/not-so-great-first-day-of-school.html"> rough first day</a>, I'm happy to report that after sending him to school with a picture of me in his pocket, he's doing much better, no more hiding under the desk...progress I say...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>****I finally sucked it up and made a Facebook page for my blog, but since my design gal is on vacation for a week I can't add it-html isn't my thing-but please click<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Hollys-House-NOT-a-Perfect-Moms-Blog/115164155252131"> here and go "like" me</a>******!</i><br />
<br />
<i>*****the winner of the $25 EdenFantasys gift card is entry #271, Kaylee!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>******seriously, go like the page, seriously...or else I'm going to get a complex...</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-6650028031840362032011-08-22T22:05:00.000-04:002011-08-22T22:05:38.219-04:00A Not So Great First Day of SchoolFreedom...<br />
<br />
Sort of. Mostly. Today it was just me and Brooke hanging out. Oh, how relaxing the day was...<br />
<br />
First we walked Jack into his kindergarten class, where he seemed happy to be, though he wouldn't let me take a picture...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu9vTE0Vy3fvmPaAoCloQw2KAprGfyBMfam8p59NF25aYlma93ZKnH0mmUM6O9wK9geeWIcMxqzH8oAYRo7vhDEHKhXmVSzIQcbWarW2vc2QiHRnQ4_8LLGq61EbsQmac7bEGEk4yucHo/s1600/jackschool.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu9vTE0Vy3fvmPaAoCloQw2KAprGfyBMfam8p59NF25aYlma93ZKnH0mmUM6O9wK9geeWIcMxqzH8oAYRo7vhDEHKhXmVSzIQcbWarW2vc2QiHRnQ4_8LLGq61EbsQmac7bEGEk4yucHo/s495/jackschool.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Then Hope and I walked Blake into his first grade classroom, where Blake graced me with one picture and shooed me out...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Bxt-J89Tuz4Xod3vA-fk87JZUCIeL0BP41U5sxnUvwDrrnet89EQOAM4XcaBiYyJLPiI_Y2Ypj_LStOSwq3oMqT3P8tIA8HKSo4D_M3CT2DE5Q0Eb3Bwz441Vwonix4hH5FGSin0Sag/s1600/Blakeschool.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Bxt-J89Tuz4Xod3vA-fk87JZUCIeL0BP41U5sxnUvwDrrnet89EQOAM4XcaBiYyJLPiI_Y2Ypj_LStOSwq3oMqT3P8tIA8HKSo4D_M3CT2DE5Q0Eb3Bwz441Vwonix4hH5FGSin0Sag/s495/Blakeschool.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Finally I dropped Hope off at Pre-K 3 where she was absolutely thrilled to be...she gave me a kiss and ran off with her friends and never looked back...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsq3J8_mUwE4nSNyuoKs8hjmyrrayTo8AEoA89dvBYrKtfHLdjOMXFxKS7RHeHyxDNP_UvzvS6SRlzKYWRifL9fzdQc_HIkNZUSSgu2mYxMvvaXFzgq4hoWjB7VmsvBT8hA6gmt_1UvmE/s1600/Hopeschool.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsq3J8_mUwE4nSNyuoKs8hjmyrrayTo8AEoA89dvBYrKtfHLdjOMXFxKS7RHeHyxDNP_UvzvS6SRlzKYWRifL9fzdQc_HIkNZUSSgu2mYxMvvaXFzgq4hoWjB7VmsvBT8hA6gmt_1UvmE/s495/Hopeschool.JPG" /></a></div><br />
So it was just Brooke and myself...we had a little physical therapy, went to a friend's house for brunch and chitchat, and hung out at home for a few hours where Brooke was thrilled to have all the Cheerios to herself.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVgap7PLOBOAncC0pWX5T1HOUkrY5t2JTKxo04Fgfa5wp-wbORP8MvKovTdvClOXaUQEQCJaTdNIgRHFbWV-8Bnob96PSVHBsMj7I2QVexstP_9W3LaMoHXwhwYwAj_SRfhLH-cYxSHQ/s1600/cheerios.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVgap7PLOBOAncC0pWX5T1HOUkrY5t2JTKxo04Fgfa5wp-wbORP8MvKovTdvClOXaUQEQCJaTdNIgRHFbWV-8Bnob96PSVHBsMj7I2QVexstP_9W3LaMoHXwhwYwAj_SRfhLH-cYxSHQ/s495/cheerios.JPG" /></a></div><br />
And then it was pick up time...<br />
<br />
First Hope...then the boys...<br />
<br />
The first thing I notice when I get the boys is that Jack isn't wearing his name tag that all the kindergartners have to wear the first two weeks. <br />
<br />
The boys climb in the car...Blake chatters on about how great first grade is and Jack is silent. I can't get a word out of him....except that he ripped his name tag off in the afternoon-because he wanted to...hmmm, strange...<br />
<br />
As I'm going through the boys' backpacks my phone rings...it's Jack's teacher...<br />
<br />
What the fuck? Who gets a call the first day of school from the kindergarten teacher? Especially me? My kids? My kids who are little monsters at home but well behaved minions in public...<br />
<br />
My Jack...my poor little Jackie...apparently he had a good morning and then lost it during lunch time. The recess teacher had to bring him back to his teacher because he was crying so badly...then he spent the rest of the day under his desk. Under his desk. My little Jackie was under his desk...<br />
<br />
His teacher was super nice, she just wanted me to be aware that he had a rough afternoon, but she let him be in hopes he gets better as the days go on...<br />
<br />
After prodding Jack and questioning him as to why he was crying he finally answered...<br />
<br />
It was because he wanted his mama.<br />
<br />
Me. He wanted me. <br />
<br />
While I was celebrating the quietness of the house my little boy was crying in the lunch room. While I was sending out snarky tweets about how happy I was to have the kids out of the house Jack was under his desk.<br />
<br />
Talk about a Mom Fail. A kick in the gut. A slap in the face. <br />
<br />
Talk about feeling like the worst. mom. ever.<br />
<br />
Jack may have been crying during lunch and recess, but I bet it was nothing compared to the tears I cried after that phone call...<br />
<br />
<i>Because I don't know how to fix this.</i> I don't know how to get Jack excited for school, because he doesn't want to go back. And I don't know what to do.<br />
<br />
I don't know what to do...<br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-7930388198871223082011-08-18T21:28:00.000-04:002011-08-18T21:28:30.522-04:00The Question of the DayIs it any wonder I have a warped sense of body image with the insane questions that my children ask me?<br />
<br />
Case in point....<br />
<br />
<i>Setting: my bedroom after I'm dressed to go to the gym</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Blake: Mommy, why are we going to the gym so much so you can exercise? Is is because you want to be healthy again?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Me: Yup, that's exactly the reason.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Blake: And you want to be not fat anymore? Like in your old pictures from when you married Daddy?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Me: Yup, that too, thanks for reminding me.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Blake: Is your whole body going to shrink down? </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Me: That's the plan.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Blake: Then how come so far only your boobies have gotten smaller but your butt is still super big?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Me: I don't know, but thanks for bringing that to my attention....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
And that's when I cut off the conversation....<br />
<br />
Don't you just love how honest these young kids are*?<br />
<br />
<i>*do you? Cuz I don't. I freaking hate it. These little honest rotten brats are going to be my undoing one day...and seriously? why are my boobs getting smaller? They're my best attribute! Every. Single. Shirt I own is a V neck to showcase them. What should I do? Start wearing turtlenecks and low cut jeans to display ass crack? What do you think**?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJh5iXsgNaS4lajjPFh-5etiirzQgNbQ15ZFAQw6pbCGgGqA1TbYLBoALS6Uq_9j77_XFuyBVC46MBVKocKskxjea6QSUjG5ab9ooS5aq8d5IGxsnXNtGcnhrGQjRNbyRaMvPT80VkKwA/s1600/asscrack.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJh5iXsgNaS4lajjPFh-5etiirzQgNbQ15ZFAQw6pbCGgGqA1TbYLBoALS6Uq_9j77_XFuyBVC46MBVKocKskxjea6QSUjG5ab9ooS5aq8d5IGxsnXNtGcnhrGQjRNbyRaMvPT80VkKwA/s390/asscrack.png" /></a></div><i><br />
</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**I'm thinking yes! I know you all can't see the front of the picture, but I'm totally grinning! and yes, I do have a muffin top just like that***....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>***although I'm pleased to tell you that today I am officially no longer obese, I'm overweight! Hooray!</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-85868288461513378672011-08-16T09:28:00.000-04:002011-08-16T09:28:32.971-04:00It's School Time-Let's Celebrate With a $25 GC Giveaway to EdenFantasys!I know what you're thinking...what on Earth does back to school time have to do with <a href="http://www.edenfantasys.com/">EdenFantasys</a>?<br />
<br />
Duh, it's such an easy answer...<br />
<br />
Maybe a little bit of afternoon delight?<br />
<br />
Some midday nooky?<br />
<br />
Hello? Isn't everyone looking forward to the kids being gone for some naughty time?<br />
<br />
Or is that just us?<br />
<br />
Oh, well, then, um...whatever...<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm super excited to be using Rafflecopter for the first time for another awesome giveaway...a $25 gift card to EdenFantasys...and no worries...there will be no following up with the winner to interrogate them on the time of day they, <i>you know</i>...<br />
<br />
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<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-38469141849120875252011-08-14T06:00:00.001-04:002011-08-14T06:00:07.098-04:00Mother Knows BestMothering is my thing.<br />
<br />
It's what I'm good at*. It's what I know**.<br />
<br />
Sure, Eric's the dad...and he knows how to take care of the kids...<br />
<br />
But he doesn't <i>know</i> how to take care of the kids. He lacks that mothering instinct.<br />
<br />
I can tell a happy scream from a<i> my brother is choking the life out of me</i> scream...<br />
<br />
I can tell a pee-pee dance from a grooving along to Dora dance...<br />
<br />
I can tell a blood curdling I smacked my head on the tile scream from an I stubbed my toe scream...<br />
<br />
And I can definitely tell a yucky cold from something far more serious...<br />
<br />
Because hello? I'm the mother. <i>It's my job.</i><br />
<br />
So when the kids get sick and Eric tells me he thinks it's more than just a cold, I kind of pat him on the back, then turn around and roll my eyes and distribute the Motrin...<br />
<br />
Because <i>I know</i>, <i>I'm the mother...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
So what if Brooke was so tired from her little cold she had last week she passed out in the kitchen?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHtEASULLfVKFz1msKTt1fohkeLBldV_i6JcR0QkvTDPEtGkC4_v9Vek8R7meJRfkMTBJ9Q-I2oGihUuKr55o-zVeUmYh5rz2B8SZRw2SPBw-Px7A1HQZmR-qu3_8bOg-8GQNjpLGI5rY/s1600/sickbrooke.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHtEASULLfVKFz1msKTt1fohkeLBldV_i6JcR0QkvTDPEtGkC4_v9Vek8R7meJRfkMTBJ9Q-I2oGihUuKr55o-zVeUmYh5rz2B8SZRw2SPBw-Px7A1HQZmR-qu3_8bOg-8GQNjpLGI5rY/s495/sickbrooke.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<i>It's just a cold...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
But this time his nagging got to me...so I schlepped over to the doctors***...<br />
<br />
And found out my little princess had strep throat...and it had been festering for the better part of a week...<br />
<br />
Oops....<br />
<br />
And that people, is one more example of why this blog is subtitled <i>Not a Perfect Mom's Blog</i>...<br />
<br />
But if Eric asks, I totally knew it was strep, I just wanted him to feel, you know, like <i>he knew....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>*kinda</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**sorta</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>***okay fine, Blake already had an appointment for the most funky toe infection I've ever seen in my life...pus was oozing out the side by the time he showed me how bad it was-so I just dragged Brooke along****</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>****and being the sicko I am, yes, I was totally fascinated....</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-20489338687419024932011-08-13T18:01:00.001-04:002011-08-13T18:01:46.823-04:00Back to School Shopping Done Easy
<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>
<p>This post brought to you by <a rel='nofollow' href='http://app.socialspark.com/disclosure_clicks?oid=5035002'>Bealls</a>. All opinions are 100% mine.</p>
<p> School is starting in ten days, not that I'm counting down or anything. Not that my kids are driving me nuts and every night I pray for the days to hurry so that blessed first day of school approaches even quicker...oh, no, I'd never do that....</p>
<p> But as excited as I am for school to start, I'm not excited for back to school shopping. Seriously? Can you picture me in the mall with my brood of children trying to drag them in and out of stores? And the boys will actually have to try pants on this year since they've grown so much I have no idea what size they are. It's one thing to go to the mall with the kids to waste the day away and play, but to actually get shopping done? No way!</p>
<p> Enter into the picture <a rel='nofollow' href='http://app.socialspark.com/clicks?lid=15222&oid=5035002'>Bealls</a>. Luckily for me, my kids wear uniforms, so I don't have to worry about arguing what's appropriate for school and what's not. One less fight! Phew. Bealls has tons of polos in different colors for my boys to choose from and plenty of khaki and navy blue pants to go along with the tops. It is school shopping made easy....</p>
<p> The Sunday paper also has coupons in it, so you can save an additional 10 or 25% along with the already low prices....how awesome is that?</p>
<p> But then again, if the thought of shopping for your kid's clothes for back to school makes you cranky, if you don't want to drag around your kids to get it done...you can always shop online at www.beallsflorida.com and save your sanity...</p>
<p> Now who's so ready for school?</p>
<p> Me! Me! Me!</p>
<p>
<a rel='nofollow' href='http://app.socialspark.com/disclosure_clicks?oid=5035002'>
<img style='border:none;' src='http://app.socialspark.com/views?oid=5035002' border='0' alt='Visit Sponsor's Site'/>
</a>
</p>
</div>
Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-24994619317141099192011-08-11T15:36:00.000-04:002011-08-11T15:36:04.601-04:00The Sniff TestI'm a sniffer. I admit it. I sniff clothes. I have to...Hope can change her clothes a dozen times a day, so how do I know if they're <i>really</i> dirty unless I give them the old sniffaroo? <br />
<br />
However, today I made a grave mistake....take a look....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLplTmGpnlzIXutpx5y-SG8_GhHRI9eM_LsGQYyj3DCJOaM3nXv_HwMS84fnii0fmC5mJ3pcdad81j75wr_49VtlP6I_8VvKLfMCIkPYGz_wT5O7wW3Dob-coSIbyZmeXWniaQ_6bF3I0/s1600/laundry.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLplTmGpnlzIXutpx5y-SG8_GhHRI9eM_LsGQYyj3DCJOaM3nXv_HwMS84fnii0fmC5mJ3pcdad81j75wr_49VtlP6I_8VvKLfMCIkPYGz_wT5O7wW3Dob-coSIbyZmeXWniaQ_6bF3I0/s460/laundry.png" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8WTsFr1KFnTMAluvDgd3VIlePYrydjBZwwZmSib3GKcklW6GX5it5-eSjWu3jHcAlidNwTaT6G79Y7Gkl6sJo2V1X5TdiSFA34d42BrZ0HIyE8O7m_hmiLejjAq-h0y86oUHqf4s4QE/s1600/laundry3.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8WTsFr1KFnTMAluvDgd3VIlePYrydjBZwwZmSib3GKcklW6GX5it5-eSjWu3jHcAlidNwTaT6G79Y7Gkl6sJo2V1X5TdiSFA34d42BrZ0HIyE8O7m_hmiLejjAq-h0y86oUHqf4s4QE/s495/laundry3.png" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqKRz4kX4DPY-qkeaPNFEg0RGGp8W81ssifFd_uHYITLU5c_cGelHp8Q-iL6wsd3BauHe7Z9-8J11Y2KSF2uEw7aF-1IhhCCF0IxK7_qjnosmhcwmZHbSvbt5fnpdGoJX7AQKue1ENxBk/s1600/laundry4.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqKRz4kX4DPY-qkeaPNFEg0RGGp8W81ssifFd_uHYITLU5c_cGelHp8Q-iL6wsd3BauHe7Z9-8J11Y2KSF2uEw7aF-1IhhCCF0IxK7_qjnosmhcwmZHbSvbt5fnpdGoJX7AQKue1ENxBk/s450/laundry4.png" /></a></div><br />
The smell* was a mixture of man sweat from the gym, man sweat from working long hours cooking at work, man sweat from running around playing with the kids, and it was magnified since the many pairs of boxers spent the last day** mingling together on the floor.<br />
<br />
So what have we learned today?<br />
<br />
1. It's perfectly acceptable to sniff your daughter's dress or shirt to see if it's dirty.<br />
<br />
2. However, never under any circumstance should you ever sniff your husband's underwear for the same reason***.<br />
<br />
You're welcome...believe me, you should be thanking me....<br />
<br />
<i>*stench? foul odor? extremely intoxicating brain numbing scent?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**okay, you totally know me better than that...a week...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>***for a different reason? go ahead, you kinky bitch...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>****to your right, on the very top of my page, you'll see I've been nominated for Funniest Mom Blog for Parents.com....I don't expect to win, but please people, I don't want to be dead last...go click and vote!</i><br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-68632253377232001232011-08-10T14:01:00.001-04:002011-08-10T14:03:58.393-04:00That Is So RetardedHave you ever said that before?<br />
<br />
Do you know that every time I hear someone say those words my stomach feels as though it's been punched and I can barely breathe? Do you know that the first thing that pops into my head is a picture of my beautiful Brooke?<br />
<br />
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My Brooke. Who is by definition mentally retarded.<br />
<br />
And yet people throw that word around in jest. To make fun of themselves or to make fun of other people. <br />
<br />
<i>Those clothes are so ugly, he looks retarded. Look at how she dances like a retard. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
So she dances like a mentally handicapped person that's going to have to work harder than you ever will? He dresses like someone disabled that will have to fight for his rights every. single. day?<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I hear those words and cringe on the inside...<br />
<br />
But rarely will I say anything...I'm not comfortable with confrontation and I know that most of the time the person saying the word doesn't realize it's a major no-no...<br />
<br />
So why am I saying something now?<br />
<br />
There's a new movie out with Ryan Reynolds, The Change-Up, that's getting a bunch of attention for some negative dialogue...<br />
<br />
Pretty much he goes to his friends house, sees his twins sitting there, comments that they aren't speaking yet-so are they retarded? Then proceeds to say, This one looks Downsy....<br />
<br />
And then the special needs community responded...there are Facebook pages and groups dedicated to boycotting the movie....<br />
<br />
Which got me thinking...<br />
<br />
I can't stand to live in a world that feels the need to be so politically correct all of the time. Really...it annoys me, and I think that finding humor in people and situations keeps life fresh and interesting...we're human, we like to laugh...<br />
<br />
But...<br />
<br />
But...<br />
<br />
This has such a negative tone to it. <i>Downsy</i>. Talk about a disabilty slur....<br />
<br />
Do you all remember There's Something About Mary? With Cameron Diaz? In the movie she had a special needs brother, but any humor in the movie dealing with that fact was done in positive loving manner, I have never been offended. It's all about the spin...<br />
<br />
Or the episode of Family Guy where Chris dates a girl with Down Syndrome? The character was actually voiced by an actress with Down Syndrome and again, it wasn't done in a negative <i>she's so retarded</i> fashion. I wasn't offended then either...it's all about the spin...<br />
<br />
It's all about the spin....<br />
<br />
And if America thinks that using a word like Downsy is okay, or that throwing retard around is acceptable...<br />
<br />
Then for the first time ever I really have to worry about Brooke's future...<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<a href="http://www.thingsicantsay.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i904.photobucket.com/albums/ac246/shellthings/pouryourheartout.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<i>*I realize that some people are offended by the examples I gave, and I respect your opinion and I can understand why you feel that way...let's please not get into a battle of words....</i><br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-56249903367793317532011-08-09T22:00:00.001-04:002011-08-09T22:10:31.772-04:00Saying Good ByeIf you're not a blogger it's hard to understand the friendships that are made via this world...<br />
<br />
I've had IRL* people question the relationships I've made with readers and fellow bloggers. It's hard for them understand...to get how wrapped up we get with each other, to understand why we'd exchange numbers and real emails and keep up with each other outside of the blog....after all, we're not <i>really</i> friends...<br />
<br />
Except that we really are. Not to say that every blogger and reader form this crazy bond of friendship, but just as it happens IRL in happens in the blogosphere too...<br />
<br />
I was lucky enough to make such a friend...Tracy from<a href="http://stinkerie.blogspot.com/"> My Little Stinkerie</a>...<br />
<br />
I say<i> was</i> because I have the most horrible news that Tracy died from a brain aneurysm yesterday. Over the weekend is when the aneurysm burst and she was rushed to the hospital in critical condition...the doctors declared Tracy to have no brain function and the choice was made to remove life support and she passed within minutes...<br />
<br />
I was asked to write this post to let everyone who reads her blog know what happened...<br />
<br />
Her family is devastated...if you weren't a reader of Tracy's blog, she has three children...a baby boy about Brooke's age-named Willie (nicknamed a million other names!) who had Down Syndrome, and two older kids-a boy and a girl, both on the autism spectrum....<br />
<br />
I can't wrap my head around the fact that these children now have no mama to hug, no mama to tuck them in at night, no mama to give bed time kisses to. I can't imagine what is going through Willie's head right now, wondering where his mommy is...<br />
<br />
Tracy was a nurse, a most awesome nurse, but still, times were really hard for her family, she had been out of work for a while and money was tight...and so a memorial fund has been set up for her children..<br />
<br />
If you are able to, please consider making a donation. All you have to do is go to any Bank of America location and tell them you'd like to donate to the Tracy Gumfory Memorial Fund...I know she'd appreciate it.<br />
<br />
And so with tears streaming down my cheeks, I'll sign off for the night...and remember one of the most awesomely funny, snarky, sarcastic, caring friends I had...<br />
<br />
I'll miss you Tracy....<br />
<br />
<i>*in real life...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**go hug your children...now, later, tomorrow, every day....</i><br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-50424939495654115522011-08-06T13:53:00.000-04:002011-08-06T13:53:22.184-04:00The Question of the Day-Wal-Mart StyleI know what you're thinking? Wal-Mart? Why on earth is Holly going to Wal-Mart, she hates it there! It's her own<a href="http://www.notaperfectmomsblog.com/2011/02/my-own-personal-hell.html"> personal Hell</a>...<br />
<br />
Yes, you are right...but being a glutton for punishment* and needing just a few things and the proximity of the store to T.J. Maxx where I already was led me to the Mart...<br />
<br />
So there I am this morning, with my unruly brood, having secured the black beans and onions needed for the chili tonight, in line waiting for pay and yelling at the boys to <i>not touch the freaking candy</i> when the question came...from Jack...<br />
<br />
<i>Jack: (looking around) Mommy, is this the store where all the creepy people and weird people shop?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Me: (wanting the floor to open up and swallow me whole, because Jack has a very loud voice and the whole damn store heard him) Um, Jack, no, um, Jack, why do you say that?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I know, I know<i>, </i>why would I ask him that? Why didn't I just tell him to be quiet?<br />
<br />
<i>Jack: (practically shouting) Look Mommy, that boy is dressed like a girl** and those people are in their jammies*** and those people are just freakin' me out****!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Me: (whispering) Please just be quiet! Please...(people are giving me the hairy eyeball now)</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
And really? Jack's totally right...they were weird and creepy...which is why I hardly ever go there. And now I can't ever go there again, Jack's made sure of that....<br />
<br />
Seriously? What is it about the Mart that attracts these people? I know it's not just mine here, because I read about other people's experiences...seriously? What is it?<br />
<br />
Guess I'm strictly a Target girl now....<br />
<br />
Darn...<br />
<br />
<i>*in unrelated glutton for punishment news, I broke my toe last night and still did step class this morning....the result?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BabXZHEuj24rLlKDqh3N-Fpw_mxMUAMnd1BY7vz3jddHDOR_ecX_dVF9d02LdU0X33c9QtjBeZPEH97tAC8vXrRLzRzYSNOkFS2j9GMlefJ8nXjiI1xmeVaU0dE4TyBd6nap_qVlzpA/s1600/toe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BabXZHEuj24rLlKDqh3N-Fpw_mxMUAMnd1BY7vz3jddHDOR_ecX_dVF9d02LdU0X33c9QtjBeZPEH97tAC8vXrRLzRzYSNOkFS2j9GMlefJ8nXjiI1xmeVaU0dE4TyBd6nap_qVlzpA/s395/toe.jpg" /></a></div><i><br />
</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**Jack's first experience with a crossdresser...a day for the baby book indeed*****!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>***for real, a whole family in jammies and haircurlers that picked up a single bag of tater tots...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>****just your average angst ridden teens with pink and blue hair and every facial part pierced....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>*****what baby book? none of these kids got past two months******....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>******okay fine....two days...</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-32844401289371558292011-08-02T23:13:00.001-04:002011-08-03T00:27:22.820-04:00Naughty Kids to the Tune of LMFAO's Party Rock-Because I RockI sound like an angel...<br />
<br />
Sort of...<br />
<br />
Judge for yourself...<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4IOdHSGMG1g?hl=en&fs=1" width="425"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
This is linked up to<a href="http://www.vlogtalkmeme.com/2011/08/01/vlogtalk-link-up/"> Vlog Talk</a>, probably very much to the dismay of the super nice girls who run the site...<br />
<br />
Or maybe not...cuz I kicked some serious ass up there!<br />
<br />
Check out the other link ups and join in the fun!<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><a href="http://vlogtalkmeme.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i835.photobucket.com/albums/zz271/CutesyKate/button-6.png" /></a></center><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-4460849138287662792011-07-31T22:57:00.000-04:002011-07-31T22:57:21.007-04:00Wear Underwear When Entering a ChurchI know what you're thinking...<i>duh!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I know that, and you know that....but Eric didn't know that...<br />
<br />
Nope...he didn't*...<br />
<br />
He walked into where the boys had Vacation Bible School (thankfully not our church) to pick them up and what does Blake do as a greeting?<br />
<br />
He pulls Eric's shorts down...<br />
<br />
All the way down...<br />
<br />
And Eric was just standing there enjoying the breeze...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmZfuEjYeR8CDwjhj772_lc2mtZTabc2GEFFMT61zyvcrJJ0Do_2pHcnuQKf-zsgzZaxxJEwfU-2c8zXjrIOltNHw1r89-9uSqwKhReO2qYmSesoh-Opli9x_aAtG8t1qv7Aa78Eg15s/s1600/blog3.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmZfuEjYeR8CDwjhj772_lc2mtZTabc2GEFFMT61zyvcrJJ0Do_2pHcnuQKf-zsgzZaxxJEwfU-2c8zXjrIOltNHw1r89-9uSqwKhReO2qYmSesoh-Opli9x_aAtG8t1qv7Aa78Eg15s/s495/blog3.png" /></a></div><br />
In front of a room full of children and all of the teenage girls that were spending their summers volunteering their free time to teach about Jesus...<br />
<br />
And I'm pretty sure the girl's faces looked like this...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXv6D_nXgdajZXqUSl2kJe_ikcAJr9nZvXTkBEurGpkGu9JREy9Erlrt89w3YInP0ncJz0G5-2NHRh0E4HVIzhGca3Pql5Hf7SxGHQIUb8-FYxkXQBDarPouOCiRILOWcg64A3iPrTik/s1600/again.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXv6D_nXgdajZXqUSl2kJe_ikcAJr9nZvXTkBEurGpkGu9JREy9Erlrt89w3YInP0ncJz0G5-2NHRh0E4HVIzhGca3Pql5Hf7SxGHQIUb8-FYxkXQBDarPouOCiRILOWcg64A3iPrTik/s495/again.png" /></a></div><br />
So there you have it...your lesson for the day...<br />
<br />
A pretty important one I think...<br />
<br />
You're welcome.<br />
<br />
<i>*okay, maybe he did know but his horrible rotten wife hadn't done laundry yet**</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**maybe...but really? who can back that claim up? are you going to listen to a man who doesn't wear underwear in church? I didn't think so...</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-77860594749879071732011-07-27T08:40:00.000-04:002011-07-27T08:40:34.148-04:00Down Syndrome Changed MeI know there are people that feel sorry for my family, they feel sorry for Brooke, they wonder how we do it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8w33TXZIH_0o-z9ecYlA9Uv3QQn5uA0-A2U1fK6UlQEeClQ-3TcGLCZ9b8OqnfGVdXB1Dd0Y_PZSYJoa9xJmNSLbkjIVc36yjbVuyVMrOkDOr1YKkSBUtuG8-qKqCySnJTCIEg90vWLA/s1600/b.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8w33TXZIH_0o-z9ecYlA9Uv3QQn5uA0-A2U1fK6UlQEeClQ-3TcGLCZ9b8OqnfGVdXB1Dd0Y_PZSYJoa9xJmNSLbkjIVc36yjbVuyVMrOkDOr1YKkSBUtuG8-qKqCySnJTCIEg90vWLA/s495/b.JPG" /></a></div><br />
But what they don't know is that I feel sorry for them....<br />
<br />
Having Brooke has made me slow down, has made me pay more attention to my children.<br />
<br />
Before Brooke I took my children for granted. I always just assumed they would meet all of their milestones and progress like any other child. Blake rolled over on time, Jack sat up with his peers, Hope crawled right on schedule.<br />
<br />
Sure, we celebrated, Eric and I were pleased, but we weren't <i>elated.</i> When Blake hit all of his milestones we called our family members and shared the news...but that was it...<br />
<br />
But when Jack came along, then Hope, there was no calling, there was no sharing the news. They're typical children hitting typical milestones. Eric and I were just shuffling along...proud of our kids, but not really paying attention. We knew the milestones would be hit in a timely fashion and that's all we thought of it. We were missing out...<br />
<br />
And then Brooke came along.<br />
<br />
And things changed.<br />
<br />
I pay attention now.<br />
<br />
I rejoice in everything she does. And so does Eric, and Blake, and Jack, and Hope...because we all know how hard she's worked to accomplish her milestones...and every single member of our family helps Brooke.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXTI08_UVfnsR_f4el51gWtXFRx6u08s2_BId824L0tXPAtiRCcNf1uehcWOvLCk8XKN4tk6J8prPL2PyMSSlGR7yk2Gt7vRHA-8M5181ob4cK273ni3zFpBDNm2DQsTQ25am9s9OZM0/s1600/hopehelps.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img "="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXTI08_UVfnsR_f4el51gWtXFRx6u08s2_BId824L0tXPAtiRCcNf1uehcWOvLCk8XKN4tk6J8prPL2PyMSSlGR7yk2Gt7vRHA-8M5181ob4cK273ni3zFpBDNm2DQsTQ25am9s9OZM0/s480/hopehelps.JPG" /></a></div><br />
We all have slowed down. We all enjoy the little moments. We all clap and celebrate when Brooke does something new...no one takes her milestones for granted.<br />
<br />
We celebrated Brooke pulling herself up like she graduated college at the age of one. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1rX5CbbMDMbvvzKTkFsOSCDAdwo3rpF7Q2xq4eTsxJtuBCn_r5G3LHvTgAWdXBis7IQ1a24txuAPtLy0GuaCtq7XheiPnpDjq4TJmAQKr0GbFNcHWUL3ck5guatMw6B-Be1CQXEWlwys/s1600/standing.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1rX5CbbMDMbvvzKTkFsOSCDAdwo3rpF7Q2xq4eTsxJtuBCn_r5G3LHvTgAWdXBis7IQ1a24txuAPtLy0GuaCtq7XheiPnpDjq4TJmAQKr0GbFNcHWUL3ck5guatMw6B-Be1CQXEWlwys/s495/standing.JPG" /></a></div><br />
And when she started cruising this past Sunday I wanted to send out a press release.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVuH980Q-C49VpylpbDEEs0p67wEav080jXoS4HsUOvGIch2RIy30W7RjabFz32kW4HipC-vgGVXKU9t9pOeAAtI6TSNzjVKK8eNaTlJkFKfXig0HuovtM3oTJZc2iadqI07jaCVjzHf8/s1600/feet.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVuH980Q-C49VpylpbDEEs0p67wEav080jXoS4HsUOvGIch2RIy30W7RjabFz32kW4HipC-vgGVXKU9t9pOeAAtI6TSNzjVKK8eNaTlJkFKfXig0HuovtM3oTJZc2iadqI07jaCVjzHf8/s495/feet.JPG" /></a></div><br />
When Brooke self feeds I marvel at her wonderful fine motor skills.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzn3fq3u8zJBg-jryOH_wrmkX97PNGX6iHBZxXKRFuS_uYNsZW8Buud-6wO_qeX0aGNzx8ArKrpFF3-eixojEpAIPmqONj2wK2XdhZkCGeKze5JpWP0UJGhq1IoOiDAflHMnJF1cg_5ro/s1600/feeding.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzn3fq3u8zJBg-jryOH_wrmkX97PNGX6iHBZxXKRFuS_uYNsZW8Buud-6wO_qeX0aGNzx8ArKrpFF3-eixojEpAIPmqONj2wK2XdhZkCGeKze5JpWP0UJGhq1IoOiDAflHMnJF1cg_5ro/s495/feeding.JPG" /></a></div><br />
When Brooke pulled herself up at a friends house and dumped all of the shampoo bottles and soaps into the toilet I didn't even scold her...instead I beamed at her naughtiness...<br />
<br />
I pay attention now...I savor my children's accomplishments...I don't take anything for granted anymore...<br />
<br />
And sometimes I feel badly that the same amount of enthusiasm wasn't given for the previous three children's milestones...but I've learned that life is a journey...a journey that will continue to teach me...a journey that will change my perspective on life and what's important...a journey that I will watch with eyes wide open from now on.<br />
<br />
And I can thank Down Syndrome for that.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://thingsicantsay-shell.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i904.photobucket.com/albums/ac246/shellthings/pouryourheartout.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-52534867273653795312011-07-25T23:06:00.000-04:002011-07-25T23:06:00.037-04:00A Day of SuckageGet your filthy minds out of the gutter...<br />
<br />
Honestly people....<br />
<br />
So right now sucks. In fact...the whole day was a downer...<br />
<br />
Why? Because right now I should be at the happiest place on Earth yelling at my kids to calm down and behave and plying them with popcorn and water while we wait for the Main Street Electrical Parade...<br />
<br />
But instead I'm at home bitching to you fine fine people....<br />
<br />
What happened, you wanna know?<br />
<br />
Simple. My brother in law pulled his back out and my husband had to pick up the slack at the restaurant...<br />
<br />
It wasn't pretty when he called and broke the news.<br />
<br />
There was tears, sobbing, shrieking that it wasn't fair, stomping, and whining...<br />
<br />
And the kids took it pretty badly too...<br />
<br />
In fact, they all turned on me...<br />
<br />
While Eric was safe at work I was attacked by four little people crying their eyes out (Brooke joined in just to fuck with me) and demanding that I call Daddy right away to see if we can please go to Disney. They all pouted and stomped all over the house begging me to take them on vacation. With big tears rolling down chubby cheeks they pleaded to make Daddy come home like he promised he would...<br />
<br />
I couldn't take it anymore...and being the emotional eater that I am I downed two pieces of cheese pizza and a box of s'mores cookies...then I felt sick...<br />
<br />
So I put Brooke down for a nap and hid in the boys' room under Blake's Star Wars comforter.<br />
<br />
No one came after me and I fell asleep...leaving the three older children to fend for themselves...<br />
<br />
I woke to a mess of pop-tarts and graham crackers, but everyone had calmed down...<br />
<br />
Because Daddy had come home from work with the news that we're going to leave tomorrow morning....<br />
<br />
And he got dinner reservations for Chef Mickey's tomorrow night...<br />
<br />
And the kids forgave him....<br />
<br />
So tomorrow we vacation...<br />
<br />
Pray for me*<br />
<br />
<i>*I don't do well in the heat...or with cranky hot children...or with big crowds...or with changed plans</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-84674925208632016722011-07-24T14:40:00.000-04:002011-07-24T14:40:02.346-04:00What I Want In a MagazineEven though I haven't paid a nickel to renew any subscriptions to multiple parenting magazines the damn things keep showing up in my mailbox. And honestly? I don't want them. I hardly ever read them unless it's for a good laugh...because really? After four kids the articles in there do me absolutely no good...<br />
<br />
I'm not interested in yet another article assuring me I can lose my baby pooch in just five minutes a day using no equipment except my kitchen chair.<br />
<br />
I don't want to read about how to soothe a colicky baby without losing my sanity.<br />
<br />
I don't want to read about breastfeeding versus bottle feeding or cloth diapers versus disposable diapers.<br />
<br />
I'm not interested in how to overcome my defiant two year old.<br />
<br />
I want real articles. From real moms.<br />
<br />
Articles that would interest me...such as....<br />
<br />
<i>Stop Trying...You're Never Going to Lose that Disgustingly Ugly Baby Pooch...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>How To Tell Off That Bitchy Mom At The Park...You Know You Want To</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Get Over It, Your Kid's a Fucking Brat and There's Nothing You Can Do About It</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>You're Not 17 Anymore, How To Not Dress Like a Ho</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Get Over Yourself, Your Child's Not Gifted</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>It's Okay If You Don't Feed Your Family Organic, No One Is Going To Grow a Tail</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
What articles do you want to see?<br />
<i><br />
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<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-78229395161010685422011-07-21T08:38:00.000-04:002011-07-21T08:38:25.324-04:00Not Sunshine and DaisiesYellow. Most people love yellow...or at least like it, and why shouldn't they?<br />
<br />
Yellow is the color of canary diamonds, the color of sunshine, the color of happiness and sparkly days forever.<br />
<br />
For most people anyway....<br />
<br />
I personally detest the bright happy flare in my eyes that is the color yellow. <br />
<br />
Yellow is my enemy.<br />
<br />
Yellow is my Kryptonite. Yellow is my headache. Yellow is all things extra work for this over tired, over caffienated, over all the piss and snot in my life mama. <br />
<br />
Yellow is the wet spot on the carpet made by Hope who peed there because I sent her to her room for some other bit of naughty behavior.<br />
<br />
Yellow is that weird dried pee stain on the bottom of the toilet seat I can't get off no matter how much I fucking scrub it*. <br />
<br />
Yellow is the dripping in my underwear when I laugh too much or sneeze unexpectedly and my bladder isn't totally empty**.<br />
<br />
Yellow is the huge piece of booger I walk around with all day on my shoulder courtesy of Brooke that no one tells me about, ruining any shot of looking put together for once.<br />
<br />
Yellow is the corn that seemingly holds all of Brooke's shit together.<br />
<br />
Yellow is the funky eye crusties my kids get that I have to pick out for them***.<br />
<br />
Yellow is the color of my nightshirt after I wake up to discover a random child has crawled into my bed specifically to pee a gallon's worth of stinky strong backed up urine onto my side of the bed.<br />
<br />
So for you yellow may be all things daisies and sunshine and lemon flavored vodka, but for me, yellow is the color of evil...<br />
<br />
Pure Evil...<br />
<br />
<i>*seriously, am I the only one with these pee stains? I have tried everything to get them off...freaking gross...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**I'd like to take this time to thank my four children for both ruining my bladder and making me incredibly unsexy while still in my 20's....</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>***okay, I enjoy the crusties...</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>****this post is linked up to<a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2011/07/the-simple-things-2/"> Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop</a>-and I swear that one day I'll figure out how to get that damn button on here</i><br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-82983746428141266362011-07-19T13:54:00.001-04:002011-07-19T14:04:17.497-04:00Is Your Home Safe?When you were a child, your parents probably did more than you ever realized to keep you safe. You were probably taught never to talk to strangers, never to get into a mysterious car, how and when to dial 911, etc. However, if you have a family, you probably know that these basic lessons are only a small part of keeping children safe. And now thanks to 24 hour news coverage, parents worry constantly about the safety of their children; it is instinctive, natural and necessary. However, it can also be very stressful. This is one reason why many families entrust their safety to home security companies that specialize in making the home a safe and secure environment. If you are not currently under the protection of one of these experienced and reliable companies, and would like to look into their services, simply run a search for a popular company in your area (something like <a href="http://www.securitychoice.com/adt-home-security/Oklahoma/T/Tulsa/">ADT Alarm Tulsa</a>, but, obviously, relative to your town or state). <br />
<br />
What you will likely discover is that many home security companies offer more than you would have guessed in terms of ways to keep you and your family safe. For example, you are probably familiar with basic house alarms, which sound loud alerts and contact the authorities in the event of a break in. What you may not know is that some modern alarm systems are now set up to also work with your cellular network. This means that in the even that your home phone lines (your alarm’s means for contacting the authorities) have been cut, or are simply not working, your alarm will automatically contact the authorities using your own cellular network, and how awesome is that? Additionally, you will receive a notification on your mobile device informing you that the alarm has gone off, which can be very helpful if you are not home at the time.<br />
<br />
In addition to these advanced alarm systems, most home security companies also offer a number of other strong security features. You may want to install motion sensors, recording video equipment, or even laser trip wires as failsafe devices to back up your alarm. You may also want to invest in other alert systems like smoke detectors and carbon monoxide gas sensors, both of which can save you from potentially life-threatening accidents. Ultimately, the features that you deem necessary are up to you; but the important thing to remember is that even one of the above listed features can do a lot to help ensure the safety of your loved ones. Do not risk unfortunate consequences where your family is concerned… look into a home security company and make your home safe. <br />
<br />
<i>*</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 15px;"><i>This post was brought to you by SecurityChoice.com</i></span><br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-86899537922520139532011-07-18T09:55:00.001-04:002011-07-18T22:48:50.948-04:00My Engagement Story or Yes, I Really Was That AwfulI prefer to show myself only in a good light...but for this story you'll really see what an absolute spoiled rotten bitchy brat I can be...<br />
<br />
I present to you...My Engagement Story....which is linked up to <a href="http://www.mytimeasmom.com/2011/07/18/vlogtalk-from-my-kids/">Vlog Talk</a> this week...<br />
<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/zEkTLXUHIjg?hl=en&fs=1" width="425"></iframe><br />
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<center><a href="http://www.mytimeasmom.com/vlogtalk" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i835.photobucket.com/albums/zz271/CutesyKate/button-6.png" /></a></center><br />
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<i>*if you all are wondering why Eric would dare take the route he did, he claims he wanted me to have the worst birthday ever so that when he proposed I'd be even more excited...although halfway in he was regretting it...ha! served him right!</i><br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-36588072955472918292011-07-15T20:13:00.000-04:002011-07-15T20:13:51.135-04:00An Open LetterDear Skinny Bitch at the gym...<br />
<br />
I wanted to like you. Really I did. I may be chunky* but I have no problem with people that are fit and slender. Hell, you either work your ass off to get that body or had the fortune to be blessed with an amazing metabolism, so why should I automatically put you on my shit list for that? It simply wouldn't be fair. If I had be blessed with awesome genetics I certainly wouldn't want anyone to hate me for it...<br />
<br />
That being said...<br />
<br />
If you ever tell me again that you are so tired of having 17% body fat and would absolutely kill to be down to 14% body fat I may have to go apeshit on your ass and take a hammer to your knees so that you may never exercise again. Seriously? Seriously? Did you not see me? <i>All of me? All 176 pounds and 36% body fat of me? Are you fucking serious?</i> If we weren't in a public location I might have kidnapped you, tied you to a chair and force fed you all things Hostess and Little Debbie until your size two's wouldn't zip. I would funnel feed you Ben and Jerry's Late Night Snack** until you had multiple chins and enough back fat scrunch up in my hands and ensure you'd stay warm in the winter. I would feed you all sorts of bacon double cheeseburgers and cheesy tots and fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy and pancakes with pure maple syrup until you were so fucking fat you wouldn't even be able to get out of bed anymore and I'd have to hire someone to wipe your ass for you....<br />
<br />
So please, the next time I'm shaking my shit next to you in Zumba and you feel the need to talk, just shut the fuck up...because I will have a Twinkie right on hand to shove in your big fat piehole.<br />
<br />
Thanks...<br />
<br />
Not a Perfect Mom<br />
<br />
<i>*read-obese...seriously people, I'm looking forward to my BMI going down to overweight...how sad is that?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>**vanilla ice cream with salty caramel swirls and fudge dipped potato chip clusters-which my cousin and I decided are Ruffles. So good I could cry right now thinking of it. Go eat some and tell me how awesome it is...please...</i><br />
<br />
<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-32021461717982121892011-07-14T13:40:00.000-04:002011-07-14T13:40:11.655-04:00Rockin' The BabyNo worries-I actually have pictures of my kids for this one! I didn't cheat like<a href="http://www.notaperfectmomsblog.com/2011/06/rockin-bump.html"> Rockin' the Bump</a>. Yeah me!<br />
<br />
Well, what I mean to say is that I have pictures of <i>some</i> of my kids.<br />
<br />
You know how it goes...baby number one gets tons of pictures, and then the baby you almost decided not to have and are so incredibly grateful is here gets tons of pictures too.<br />
<br />
The babies in the middle? Huh? Wait, I'm supposed to have pictures of them too? People <i>actually</i> <i>care about middle children?</i> I had no idea*<br />
<br />
So here we have Blake, prized child number one. This is when I didn't realize I'd look like such a huge bloated piece of crap after laboring for 10 hours and then being sliced wide open to retrieve my man child and so I allowed pictures. Never again did that happen, I can assure you...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbod8iDq9olWTjBh5Y-xVax5Qt5Lu04Uf36bvmllT1fdQlu0ZfhrvKCmFedbUIyjJShN1cvFOL51Fmg71gBZq18mIJFiTYEQebGNySQa-2Nq5seKf5dtP4H1HiyjBiWCe868sN7rs1Ic4/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbod8iDq9olWTjBh5Y-xVax5Qt5Lu04Uf36bvmllT1fdQlu0ZfhrvKCmFedbUIyjJShN1cvFOL51Fmg71gBZq18mIJFiTYEQebGNySQa-2Nq5seKf5dtP4H1HiyjBiWCe868sN7rs1Ic4/s495/4.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Uh, I'll just tell you about Jack, child number two. He was cute, tiny to us at 7 lbs 7 oz and 19 inches. He had hair, and did I mention he was cute**?<br />
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Hope was number three, weighing in at 10 lbs 6 oz and she too was adorable, although she definitely didn't look like she belonged to us, she looked like a Latina baby. Seriously. We used to joke that somewhere a Hispanic family was gazing down at their little blond haired blue eyed baby scratching their heads in wonder. When Hope turned one and we had the family over for dinner we served rice and beans...<br />
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Ahhh, and here's our little miracle baby, the one we didn't know we wanted. The guilt we had was parlayed into taking oodles of pictures....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPc9GO_MJ7QDhesH9i3H1cQ7VMqo6XJHSvH_QKhMqPCVtdHLxh_HVlhaJZGUaBwmyzlP5CgiIwrYarW7unx9MX5VhybSG8uLexTSzAaI6aiKBLHowYQnUhStPVzZEk5t1ioh-Zxob9dk/s1600/brooke%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSPc9GO_MJ7QDhesH9i3H1cQ7VMqo6XJHSvH_QKhMqPCVtdHLxh_HVlhaJZGUaBwmyzlP5CgiIwrYarW7unx9MX5VhybSG8uLexTSzAaI6aiKBLHowYQnUhStPVzZEk5t1ioh-Zxob9dk/s495/brooke%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Brooke was a solid 9 lbs 6 oz! She amazed everyone in the NICU and came home with me after eight days....<br />
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<i>*is this what causes Middle Child Syndrome?</i><br />
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<i>**I should just start saving for therapy now...sigh...</i><br />
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<a href="http://thingsicantsay-shell.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i904.photobucket.com/albums/ac246/shellthings/RockintheBaby-ThingsICantSay.png" /></a><br />
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<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-42649195362614870092011-07-13T12:22:00.000-04:002011-07-13T12:22:55.047-04:00Baby Sign Language Obsession<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>I never paid much attention to baby sign information until I had Brooke and realized I wanted to give her every opportunity to communicate with not just me, but the world until she found her words. I only wish I knew about these fantastic people before I spent truckloads of money of baby sign DVDs and books.....and I wish I had utilized signs with my other "typical" children....</i><br />
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We are obsessed with <span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="http://www.babysignlanguage.com/basics/getting-started/">signing for babies</a></u></span> at <span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="http://www.babysignlanguage.com/">www.babysignlanguage.com</a></u></span>, early childhood communication is our thing! We are obsessed with babies and toddlers and love to talk about diapers and throw-up and all sorts of other inappropriate things. But most of all, we are passionate about cute little communicating hands. Few things in life are as much fun as baby sign language, and we want to share what we know with moms and dads everywhere! It’s so nice to meet you!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So, just what is baby sign language, <i>really</i>? While we get asked that question a lot, the answer remains simple. In baby sign language, babies and toddlers use a small collection of gestures to communicate to their loved ones and caregivers. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Take for example the baby who has nursed for an hour, but still wants to nurse some more. She could make the sign for “breastfeed” or “milk.” Or consider the baby who has just had an explosion in his pants. He can make the sign for “diaper.” These simple signs allow babies and toddlers who haven’t yet learned to speak to communicate their basic wants and needs! </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And studies suggest that babies who learn to sign learn to speak sooner than non-signing babies. They also develop more sophisticated vocabularies in those first few years of speaking. And one study even suggested that baby sign language leads to higher reading levels later on in life. Baby sign language is also believed to increase confidence and self-esteem in younger children. And, like we mentioned, it’s fun!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Baby sign language has also proved to be an amazing resource for children with developmental or speech delays. For example: parents, educators, and other caregivers have had tremendous success using sign to communicate with children with Down syndrome, autism, and cerebral palsy.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So, we’ve convinced you, right? Wondering how to get started? Well, that part is easy too. We have a <span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="http://www.babysignlanguage.com/basics/getting-started/">baby sign language dictionary</a></u></span> at our site, complete with instructional videos, and all of this is <b>free</b>. So, you can decide which signs you’d like to introduce to your baby, and then look them up in our dictionary. (And if you’re afraid you’ll forget, feel free to download and print our wall chart and/or flash cards!)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Once you’ve figured out how to make the gestures yourself, you simply need to start making them to your baby. Repetition is the secret to success. Every single time that you say “Daddy,” make the sign for “Daddy.” Soon, your baby will associate the sign with the meaning, and eventually the sign with the word. And not long after that, your child will make the sign to you in order to communicate “Daddy!”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Of course, all babies are different. Some learn faster than others. Some seem driven to communicate from the get go. Some prefer some signs to others. (Most toddlers aren’t very motivated to sign for nap, for example.) But don’t get frustrated! And know that the <span style="color: blue;"><u><a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Baby-Sign-Language/135339096490587">BabySignLanguage.com community</a></u></span> is here to support you and answer any questions that you may have and give you a word of encouragement when things get hard. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4583839608524368311.post-5979477400038809232011-07-10T21:07:00.000-04:002011-07-10T21:07:14.078-04:00The Middle FingerNone of my kids has ever given me the middle finger...literally...but man, did Hope really get me figuratively*...<br />
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<i>Setting: my kitchen, doling out snacks...Hope picks a banana and Jack opts for a cheese stick</i><br />
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<i>Hope: I want a cheese stick too Mommy, give me!</i><br />
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<i>Me: No way ma'am! Eat that banana, I am so tired of wasting food! If you're still hungry after then I'll give you a cheese stick.</i><br />
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<i>Hope: (pouting like a spoiled brat): okay Mommy....(runs away)</i><br />
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30 seconds later...<br />
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<i>Hope: I all done wit my nana Mommy! Can I have a cheese now?</i><br />
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<i>Me: There is no way you ate that whole thing, where is it?</i><br />
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<i>Hope: (running away as she's talking) It's in my belly!</i><br />
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<i>Me: (chasing her) Come back here! What did you do with that banana?!</i><br />
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Do you want to know?** <br />
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I found her in her room sitting on top of her princess ride-on toy....I pulled her up and lifted the seat.<br />
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Yup, there was the banana.<br />
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But obviously there's more to the story than this...<br />
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She peed on it.<br />
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Hope took off her undies and must have crouched over the seat and peed all over the banana.<br />
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Because she lives to torture me.<br />
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If that's not a big old <i>EFF YOU!</i> than I don't know what is...<br />
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<i>*look at me using kinda sorta big words!</i><br />
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<i>**what a stupid question. of course you all wanted to know, don't you read this blog just to find out how my kids routinely destroy my will to live?</i><br />
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<img src="http://i1215.photobucket.com/albums/cc515/notaperfectmom/BlogDesign/holly5.png" style="border: none;" />Not a Perfect Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09538588358382300444noreply@blogger.com26