<?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-2744213592875675958</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:36:48.806-04:00</updated><category term='addiction'/><category term='bloggers'/><category term='list'/><category term='funny'/><category term='airplane'/><category term='movies'/><category term='kissing'/><category term='catch up'/><category term='eyecandy'/><category term='clarksville'/><category term='hair'/><category term='Prettyness'/><category term='home'/><category term='Gage'/><category term='RI'/><category term='conversations'/><category term='survey'/><category term='mystery'/><category term='family'/><category term='sports'/><category term='rainstorm'/><category term='free stuff'/><category term='myspace'/><category term='1986'/><category term='Adam'/><category term='Worldless Wednesday'/><category term='headsortail'/><category term='work'/><category term='Celeb'/><category term='ambur'/><category term='contest'/><category term='top 10'/><category term='halloween'/><category term='Island'/><category term='can&apos;t sleep'/><category term='me'/><category term='entrecard'/><category term='hizouse'/><category term='workshop'/><category term='personal'/><category term='product review'/><category term='BooBoo'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='scared'/><category term='google searches'/><category term='happy'/><category term='first'/><category term='moms'/><category term='award'/><category term='tip'/><category term='letter'/><category term='crafts'/><category term='strong dislike aka hate'/><category term='new words'/><category term='Apple Picking'/><category term='crocs'/><category term='postsecret'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='Grr'/><category term='swap'/><category term='good deeds'/><category term='Question'/><category term='sick'/><category term='Labor'/><category term='love'/><category term='the hills'/><title type='text'>Queens Fort Mama(Old Blog)</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>71</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2682268716037388620</id><published>2009-02-21T18:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T18:36:46.018-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello</title><content type='html'>I don't use this blog anymore. Please, come join me at my new blog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faithandgasoline.blogspot.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2682268716037388620?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2682268716037388620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2682268716037388620' title='38 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2682268716037388620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2682268716037388620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2009/02/hello.html' title='Hello'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>38</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-105887418170058115</id><published>2008-10-22T11:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T11:37:25.817-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>Who You Gonna Call?</title><content type='html'>So 2 weeks ago I signed up for this silly competition at work called 'Cashier Olympics'. I only cashier one day a week at work and the rest of the time I'm usually in the phone center. I didn't think I would be good at this olympics because I'm a little rusty on the ringin'. So I show up(I get paid for doing this!) and only 4 cashiers show up! 20 people had signed up originally so it was little sad but that means I had a better chance at winning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to do little tests to win. I got the highest score on the written test. I twas random questions about cashiering. Then I ran around the store like crazy for a scavenger hunt. Then we had a cart full of things we had to 'return' and put in the right department bins. So with only 4 people I figured I would win. And I did! I won 3rd place. I was really happy because I won $50, too! Then I realized I would have to compete in the District Olympics and my happiness faded away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The district olympics were on Sunday. The 3 of us that won worked so hard on our float(well they did. I never work!) and we made kick butt costumes. Our results from the districts were I was the only person out of about 30 that got 'Name The Department' game 100% correct. Go me. Our silver medel won the 2nd place in district. She got a sweet turkey fryer(raaaandom!). AND WE WON BEST COSTUMES! Thats it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a picture.I give you permission to make fun of us. We are proud Ghost Busters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SP9IiLmyM1I/AAAAAAAAAQg/tDJ-2tMiLk0/s1600-h/cashierolympics.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SP9IiLmyM1I/AAAAAAAAAQg/tDJ-2tMiLk0/s400/cashierolympics.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260002641860244306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-105887418170058115?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/105887418170058115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=105887418170058115' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/105887418170058115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/105887418170058115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/10/who-you-gonna-call.html' title='Who You Gonna Call?'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SP9IiLmyM1I/AAAAAAAAAQg/tDJ-2tMiLk0/s72-c/cashierolympics.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-7371097293935064094</id><published>2008-10-17T08:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T09:06:30.026-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><title type='text'>Pumpkin Fun</title><content type='html'>I've never really been a huge fan of Halloween. It was never a holiday that I got overly excited about at all. I'm much more of a huge Christmas fan. I love everything about Christmas time expect the coldness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this year I am actually super duper excited about Halloween. I don't really know what it is but I can feel the excitement in my BONES! I have been watching scary movies on the Chiller network every night(even without Adam!). I bought new Halloween decorations. I even feel the crafty coming out in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a pumpkin craft I made my boys do with me. We painted the pumpkins. It was really easy but a lot of fun. I did the two pumpkins on the left(the pirate and the chalkboard painted). Adam did the devil looking pumpkin. Gage did the crazy finger painted one. I think Adam won hands down on this project. Who knew the man could paint?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SPiNsUAVBkI/AAAAAAAAAQY/ApTzRcupRoM/s1600-h/100_0343.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SPiNsUAVBkI/AAAAAAAAAQY/ApTzRcupRoM/s400/100_0343.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258108357378901570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-7371097293935064094?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7371097293935064094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=7371097293935064094' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7371097293935064094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7371097293935064094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/10/pumpkin-fun.html' title='Pumpkin Fun'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SPiNsUAVBkI/AAAAAAAAAQY/ApTzRcupRoM/s72-c/100_0343.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-5537056657117092452</id><published>2008-10-15T09:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T09:14:50.106-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='halloween'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moms'/><title type='text'>Tiggerific</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SPXqZm1oi4I/AAAAAAAAAQI/oeonheF4ewE/s1600-h/gagepumpkin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SPXqZm1oi4I/AAAAAAAAAQI/oeonheF4ewE/s320/gagepumpkin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257365865668053890"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been having such a great time since my mom has been here that I haven't even felt like getting on the computer. It is really nice having her around. I wish we lived closer to each other. She leaves on Thursday and I will be very very sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see in the picture above Gage is going to be Tigger for Halloween. I decided to dress him up on Monday in the costume. We went on a hayride, a cornmaze, and through a pumpkin patch. It was awesome. Everywhere we went everyone was commenting on how cute he was. I know how cute he is already so I wish I could say the comments got old but they didn't. They never could. I loved it and so did Gage. Hah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SPXscvPiBkI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/EWmtMiumDZ4/s1600-h/gageyhalloween1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SPXscvPiBkI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/EWmtMiumDZ4/s320/gageyhalloween1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257368118487025218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Tigger and Halloween, I am actually pretty upset that I can't match Gage this year. Last year we both dressed up as pirates and it was fun. This year though there is no way you are getting me in a pooh, eeyore, piglet etc etc costume. I guess just being me will have to suffice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-5537056657117092452?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5537056657117092452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=5537056657117092452' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5537056657117092452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5537056657117092452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/10/tiggerific.html' title='Tiggerific'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SPXqZm1oi4I/AAAAAAAAAQI/oeonheF4ewE/s72-c/gagepumpkin.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-7038967401091695487</id><published>2008-10-01T16:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T16:24:49.781-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry</title><content type='html'>I lied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on Monday I was really looking forward to bloggin' and readin' blogs but it didn't happen. What did happen was I had an appointment with my dentist. I think its safe to say that no one likes a dentist unless you're married to one or something. I especially don't like my dentist because without warning he decided he was going to yank my widsom tooth out of my mouth right at that appointment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted it out! Oh believe me. I really wanted it out. It was hurting all week. I just wasn't prepared to have come out on Monday. I figured it would take a few days for referrals etc etc. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. I am now missing 1 wisdom tooth. My mouth is swollen and for some reason no matter how many vicadin I take I am still in pain. On top of that I also have a nasty infection in my mouth where my gum and my cheek were swollen. I was biting it. So yuck not fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm not updating until my mouth is better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is coming to visit on Monday so be prepared for lots of crazy blonde stories!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-7038967401091695487?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7038967401091695487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=7038967401091695487' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7038967401091695487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7038967401091695487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/10/sorry.html' title='Sorry'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2411398264054091858</id><published>2008-09-27T10:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T10:23:06.375-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><title type='text'>I'm Back</title><content type='html'>Hello Bloggy Friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a little vacay from bloggin'. I didn't plan it or anything. I don't know I just didn't feel like bloggin' this week. It happens to the best of us, I guess. Don't worry. I will be back to buggin' you on Monday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2411398264054091858?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2411398264054091858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2411398264054091858' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2411398264054091858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2411398264054091858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m Back'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1313046708531018805</id><published>2008-09-19T00:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T00:00:00.918-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>Hear Me Roar</title><content type='html'>I work at a home improvement store. Its a kind of store that sells materials that typically men do for a career or a hobby. Women do shop there in the more girly departments and then you have the women that do typical men jobs. Then you have people who shop there for presents for other people but they don't count in this post. I would never sexually discriminate any of them by assuming they CAN'T do their job just because they are women. It really amazes me how many customers come in and ASSUME that I can't answer their questions because I am a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have worked there for over 2 years so even if I had no prior knowledge in some areas I can now answer pretty general questions. Usually what I know helps the customer but sometimes I don't even get that far because they would rather have a man answer. Seriously, I have had people tell me this. WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, last night at work I was suppose to be in my little room answering a phone all night. But they were short on cashiers and since I'm trained I did returns all night as well as answering the phones. I also did breaks at the service desk. I was quite the busy gal last night. So a guy walks in and starts asking a co worker a question about pellet wood. The co worker said 'I'm sorry I don't know anything about that you will have to ask her.' He then pointed to me. I heard the whole question so I start answering the guys question and he refuses to look at me! He is still staring at my male co worker like I wasn't even there! I'm a little shorter than these guys so I lean over, stand on my tip-e-toes and wave my hands in front of his face. He still refuses to acknowledge me. I don't know what his problem was/is with females but apparently he has one. While I was taking down his information he still absolutely refused to make eye contact with me. It was like he was embarrassed that me, a female, was helping him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really angered and disgusted me that people treat other people(women) this way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1313046708531018805?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1313046708531018805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1313046708531018805' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1313046708531018805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1313046708531018805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/hear-me-roar.html' title='Hear Me Roar'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-4060461436417083909</id><published>2008-09-18T08:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T09:19:31.108-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='workshop'/><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://mamakatslosinit.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i85.photobucket.com/albums/k67/downhillherb/mamakat.jpg"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to do Mama Kats workshop this week. I picked question #3 which is; &lt;strong&gt;Do you have reoccurring dreams? What are they about?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked that question because I think I have always been fascinated with dreams and their meanings. I remember when I was younger I use to own a dream journal and a book that told you about your dreams. I'm not really that into it now but I still think dreams are interesting.I actually have very distinct reoccurring dreams. I can only think of two different dreams that stick out as reoccuring, though. It might have to do with the fact that they scare the living GFzzD47!! out of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first reoccuring dream that I have had was when I was about 18. I had just married The Asshole and we moved into a house that we were going to buy. That was until my dream started. It would start out just like a normal night would. We would go to bed. We would both fall asleep. Then something in the middle of the night wakes me up. Being the scardy cat I am(even in my dreams!) I just stayed in bed with my eyes peaking over top the blanket. Then all of a sudden I can see a shadow of a man on the wall in the hallway.He is slowly creeping down my hallway. I reach over to try and wake The Asshole up but he just wouldn't wake up. Finally, the creeping man reaches our room and....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how the dream ever ended. At this point I would wake up screaming bloody murder and crying. This dream happened over and over again for about a month. I begged and pleaded not to buy that house and we didn't. We moved to a new place. The dream stopped when we moved. Freaky, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My next reoccuring dreaming is actually a little more recent. In fact it just happened last night. I keep having a dream about Gage sleeping in bed with us. Its not a peaceful awww dream. Its really scary. Its so scary that when Gage ACTUALLY does sleep in the bed with us I toss and turn all night. It starts out very real just like my other dream. We are all in bed. Adam, Gage and then me hanging on to the edge. We fall asleep. Yeah, I'm so boring we fall asleep in my dream. The next thing that I know I wake up and try to snuggle with Gage but instead I find that his legs are wiggy and wobbly. They have been broken. We broke Gage's legs. His arms are broken as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I usually wake up. The first thing I do is make sure Gage is fine. Sometimes I find his arms before his legs and I get really scared because you know arms are wiggly and wobbly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had that dream last night and right now I'm like a zombie walking around. I can't wait until naptime.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-4060461436417083909?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/4060461436417083909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=4060461436417083909' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4060461436417083909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4060461436417083909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1301009060772119868</id><published>2008-09-18T00:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T23:50:36.783-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bloggers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='swap'/><title type='text'>Swap It Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://208.106.254.122/personal/swap_btn3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://208.106.254.122/personal/swap_btn3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I participated in a &lt;a href="http://allieparkersthoughts.blogspot.com/2008/08/monday-mayhem-favorite-things-swap.html"&gt;swap&lt;/a&gt; hosted by the &lt;a href="http://allieparkersthoughts.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pink Potpourri&lt;/a&gt;. I actually ended up sending two packages out. One to &lt;a href="http://mommablogsalot.wordpress.com/"&gt;Jen&lt;/a&gt;, my intended partner and one to Allie over at the &lt;a href="http://allieparkersthoughts.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pink Potpourri&lt;/a&gt;. She had an even number of people doing the swap so she couldn't join in. It was her idea and that didn't fly with me so thats how that went down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, &lt;a href="http://mommablogsalot.wordpress.com/"&gt;Jen's&lt;/a&gt; package arrived via UPS last week. I was actually leaving my house and I saw the big brown truck stop on the other side of my house. I fell out of the car and took off running for that package. I was really excited. I think I had somewhere important to go because I had to ride with the unopened package for quite awhile! It was hard but I didn't want to endanger Gage's and my life so I waited until I got home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I get home, rip that baby open, and I did remember to take a picture before grubby toddler hands fondled everything. The only problem is that same exact day my memory card in my camera decided it needed to die on me. It kept saying unrecognized file format and if the picture actually showed up it had other pictures that I had already taken mixed in with that picture. It was a mess. Sadly, I don't have a picture of anything &lt;a href="http://mommablogsalot.wordpress.com/"&gt;Jen&lt;/a&gt; sent me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I don't have a picture I am just going to tell you everything that she sent me. Pay close attention and be really jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory - I haven't seen the movie yet so I'm really excited to read the book first!&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Forever-Lily-Unexpected-Mothers-Adoption/dp/0743292979"&gt;Forever Lily&lt;/a&gt; - FANTASTIC BOOK! I read it all that same day!&lt;br /&gt;3. A book mark of a &lt;a href="http://www.oldnorth.com/"&gt;Church&lt;/a&gt; in Boston.&lt;br /&gt;4. A black canvas tote bag - It can be used for shopping, the library etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;5. Trader Joe booklet and RECIPES! - I'm not really the greatest cook/baker. I actually made the Cake Mix Cookies she gave me! They were delicious!&lt;br /&gt;5. Pledge Multi Wipes/coupon - What an awesome way to get my lazy butt motivated!&lt;br /&gt;6. Fill It In Puzzle book - I have been so addicted to it! I've actually opted for the book over the computer since I got it! I mean,come on, thats amazing!&lt;br /&gt;7. A beautiful crafted Rose pen - It freakin' rocks and I have been using for the puzzle book!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think thats all. I'm sorry if I forgot something, &lt;a href="http://mommablogsalot.wordpress.com/"&gt;Jen&lt;/a&gt;. I LOVED everything and you were a fantastic partner. I'm so glad we got paired together. We have a lot in common and I'm glad I found your blog through this swap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to be involved in another swap soon! So get thinking about what to swap and when or if you know of one let me know!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1301009060772119868?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1301009060772119868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1301009060772119868' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1301009060772119868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1301009060772119868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/swap-it-up.html' title='Swap It Up'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-985312475477004413</id><published>2008-09-17T07:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T07:23:48.623-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Apple Picking'/><title type='text'>Down A Narrow Lane</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SNDosJ5EGZI/AAAAAAAAAQA/3oVs0S_HLCo/s1600-h/100_0314.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SNDosJ5EGZI/AAAAAAAAAQA/3oVs0S_HLCo/s320/100_0314.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246949411153779090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day we decided to go apple picking with friends.Last year around this time I went apple picking with the same friend and her son. It feels like a tradition now. I kind of like that. I didn't have too many traditions with friends growing up being that I was constantly moving.  The apple orchard is actually right down the road. We could walk there but decided to be lazy(Am I really that lazy?!) and just drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get there, lug the huge wagon out of the car(that the boys never even sat in!) and found out they changed their system from last year. You have to prepay for bag and then you just fill it up. Last year it was by pound. The cheapest bag they had was $8. It looked like a pretty small bag, though. These were some expensive apples we were about to pick. All of us came to the conclusion that you are pretty much paying for the experience not really the amount of apples. At first I was a little angry because I am a money saving fool and this seemed ridiculous. After awhile though I calmed down because it really was a great experience. Gage actually ATE apples. Gage will only eat chicken nuggets and he actually ate an apple. I would have paid $20 if I knew that was going to happen. Gage had a lot of fun running around with his little buddy. They climbed under the trees and walked through a pumpkin patch. The 4 adults laughed and talked about the wedding the friends just had. It really was a great time. Hopefully, we will still be living here next year to go again with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got home I realized that my little $8 bag wasn't really THAT little. It still wasn't worth $8 but it wasn't a small amount of apples. That bag can hold a lot of freakin' apples.I have no clue what to do with them all. I guess I can go on the&lt;a href="http://www.bestapples.com/healthy/healthy_threeadayplan.shtml"&gt;3-apple a day diet&lt;/a&gt; but then I might hate apples FOREVER and wouldn't that suck? I could bake except I don't like apple pie and thats all I can think of to make. Thank Goodness Gage decided he likes apples now because he will be eating them for a few weeks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-985312475477004413?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/985312475477004413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=985312475477004413' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/985312475477004413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/985312475477004413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/down-narrow-lane.html' title='Down A Narrow Lane'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SNDosJ5EGZI/AAAAAAAAAQA/3oVs0S_HLCo/s72-c/100_0314.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-6883949566789388969</id><published>2008-09-16T07:23:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T07:25:11.243-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>How To Be Lazy</title><content type='html'>Adam took a personal day from work yesterday. All I thought was 'OMG HOW AM I GOING TO GET AWAY WITH BEING RIDICULOUSY LAZY!?'. Well folks, I think I mastered it. I'm going to share a few pointers with you in case your significant other surprises you with a sick day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First think of a bunch of errands that need to be done but you have been too &lt;strike&gt;lazy&lt;/strike&gt; busy to do. Tell him that its impossible to do with the baby and that you will stay home with baby. Remember to thank him! As soon as he walks out the door make sure baby is down for a nap and you jump back in bed and nap your little head off, too.&lt;br /&gt;If your hunny comes strolling through the door while you are sleeping here is the best excuse for when you awake. You were going to make the bed but laid down for just one second and fell asleep. That makes it look like you are attempting to tidy up. You could probably throw in there you had a long night with the kiddo. Its usually true. Plus, if your sweetie is anything like mine he could sleep through a tornado so he never knows when the baby wakes up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next comes lunch. He is actually going to expect you to cook/make him something to eat. Like making one meal a day for him isn't enough! All you have to do is convince him that there isn't anything to eat except chicken nuggets that little man eats everyday for breakfast, lunch &amp;amp;dinner. Pop em in, watch him cook, throw some ketchup on. There you go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So by this point you are probably starving and in need of lunch. Tell him that he messed up on the earlier errand running. He forgot something of dire importance and need. Now you have an excuse to go out and catch a lunch all by yourself - kid free! Don't forget to drive real slow and just take it all in that you don't have shoes flying at your head right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After enjoying your kid free lunch head home. Start some laundry. Watch some garbage on TV. I don't know. Make yourself look busy for a few more hours. Then announce 'Hey its 3:30. Personal day is over. You would be home from work by now'. Then put him to work cleaning and etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There you go. That was how I managed to stay lazy while Adam took a personal day.&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I wouldn't take this seriously. Adam is reading over my shoulder laughing. He said I was caught red handed as soon as I pushed him out the door for errand running which I never let him do because he does indeed always forgets something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-6883949566789388969?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6883949566789388969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=6883949566789388969' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6883949566789388969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6883949566789388969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/how-to-be-lazy.html' title='How To Be Lazy'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-57837003874721197</id><published>2008-09-15T20:42:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T00:21:25.395-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adam'/><title type='text'>Our Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://smileitsbecky.blogspot.com/"&gt;Smile, Its Becky&lt;/a&gt; asked the question "how did you and Adam meet?". Here is our story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The year 2006 was a crazy year for me. I decided to leave my husband(I was married for 2 years) and I also met Adam, got pregnant, and moved to Rhode Island. I don't really like to talk about my marriage to Asshole. So I'm not going to. Just know that it ended bad in April of 06. Most of my friends were married including a friend named Holli. Her husband had just gotten back from Iraq in May. His friends were throwing a luau themed party. Holli invited us to come along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SM3ELoOhLHI/AAAAAAAAAPo/0KjV7sIRDRI/s1600-h/luau.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246064845012413554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SM3ELoOhLHI/AAAAAAAAAPo/0KjV7sIRDRI/s320/luau.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night was really fun. I danced on a truck bed, had a few keg beers, and played guitar hero. All through the night I kept looking at this guy. He looked so familiar to me but I couldn't place him at all. That was until I saw his friend, Boston. He was someone you just don't forget. He is crazy(like in a fun way). A year before this luau party I met those two in a bar called Blackhorse. It still blows my mind away that I met this guy a year before and now here is...Adam back in my life again. I don't know call me crazy but I think thats what you call fate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took that as a sign and from that point on in the night were inseperable. I shook my money maker on him all night. I had a great time at the luau that I didn't want it to end. So everyone decided to go IHOP for some food. Adam got my number and were texting like crazy to each other while eating. He even paid for my breakfast. What a fellow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally said goodnight but our relationship didn't end there, of course. I think we saw each other every single day after that until he got out of the Army and moved back to Rhode Island. I was pretty shook up and sad because in the month that I had gotten to know Adam I just knew that he was the guy for me. We talked on the phone quite a bit when he moved away. After not seeing each other for a month Adam hopped out on a plane to see me. We stayed at the River View Inn in Clarksville, TN. He was only there for 3 days and by the end of the short trip we both decided that I would be moving to Rhode Island very soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 3 weeks went by since I had seen Adam. My heart hurt and I didn't think I would be moving out there or even see him again. Thoughts crept in that maybe he was just a summer fling. That was until one day my best friend Ambur found out she was pregnant. I don't know why but that freaked me out because we had always had the same time of the month. So I took a pregnancy test not expecting it to be positive. I was wrong. It was very positive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v604/heyprettylady/babiesnandsuch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v604/heyprettylady/babiesnandsuch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;It really threw me and Adam for a loop because we had only known each other for about 2 1/2 months. I was still going through my divorce and we lived miles and miles away from each other. We knew that we could make this work because we really did love each other. So I packed my little car up with as much stuff as I could and drove from Tennessee to Rhode Island all by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SM3Gur88CnI/AAAAAAAAAP4/jfsG8TobD28/s1600-h/DSCN1327.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246067646331095666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SM3Gur88CnI/AAAAAAAAAP4/jfsG8TobD28/s320/DSCN1327.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Christmas 07&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we are a little over two years later. It wasn't always pretty but our love has made it through everything so far. We aren't married and we like it that way for now. I couldn't imagine not having Adam in my life. For quite some time I was really unhappy and hurting on the inside. Now I feel nothing but joy and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, babe.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-57837003874721197?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/57837003874721197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=57837003874721197' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/57837003874721197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/57837003874721197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/our-story.html' title='Our Story'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SM3ELoOhLHI/AAAAAAAAAPo/0KjV7sIRDRI/s72-c/luau.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1872907568685760691</id><published>2008-09-13T00:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T23:59:51.896-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop Raining</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Rain, rain &lt;em&gt;please&lt;/em&gt; go away&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;My very good friend is getting married on the beach today&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMs6q6OiNiI/AAAAAAAAAPg/RYqv_6JHUmE/s1600-h/101_0172.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMs6q6OiNiI/AAAAAAAAAPg/RYqv_6JHUmE/s400/101_0172.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245350699862210082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 3 of us at the rehearsal. Nice face Gage. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1872907568685760691?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1872907568685760691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1872907568685760691' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1872907568685760691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1872907568685760691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/stop-raining.html' title='Stop Raining'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMs6q6OiNiI/AAAAAAAAAPg/RYqv_6JHUmE/s72-c/101_0172.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-148405624801225458</id><published>2008-09-12T11:49:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T22:11:17.931-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><title type='text'>Trouble Melts Like Lemon Drops</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMqRwGakdvI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/TulnQOsGnz0/s1600-h/101_0174.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245164971568166642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMqRwGakdvI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/TulnQOsGnz0/s320/101_0174.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; Somewhere over the rainbow&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Way up high&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the dreams that you dreamed of&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Once in a lullaby&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Somewhere over the rainbow&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blue birds fly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Gage was fascinated with the guitar player singing "Somewhere Over The Rainbow". I sometimes sing it to him before bed. I'm surprised he didn't zonk out right there on the beach.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-148405624801225458?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/148405624801225458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=148405624801225458' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/148405624801225458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/148405624801225458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/trouble-melts-like-lemon-drops.html' title='Trouble Melts Like Lemon Drops'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMqRwGakdvI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/TulnQOsGnz0/s72-c/101_0174.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-6238935778508674667</id><published>2008-09-11T11:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T11:47:01.499-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>My Dad, My Hero</title><content type='html'>I have tried to sit down and write this a few times already this morning but I just end up tearing up and walking away. I know my tears are because I miss him so much and I pray for his safety at all times. I also think my tears are of anger and hurt. It makes me feel really selfish because I know what he has done and what he is doing is making things for the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My amazing Dad has been in the United States Army for 27 years. He made a sacrifice to our country that many people can't even begin to wrap their minds around. Not only did he make sacrifices but my whole family did as well. Growing up I think we were really lucky because he really wasn't gone all that much. When I tell people he is in the Army they imagine he was gone the entire time and never saw us. He wasn't gone that much. He went to Korea for a year when I was about 5. I don't really remember him being gone. I just remember I got a very beautiful doll when he came back. He went back and forth to Kuwait but it was only for weeks at a time. Around 7 years ago my Dad was ready to get out the Army. He had all his paperwork in and already had a job lined up. It was a scary time in our house because thats all we had known for our whole lives. Unfortunately, 9/11 happened and the 'War On Terror' began. My dad was stop loss, meaning he wasn't allowed to retire. Soon after my whole town began to become a ghost town. My dad left, too. His knees are horrible. He can barely run anymore(He did a half marathon last week though! Go Dad!). Even though he has been in for awhile and it has been his time to retire he doesn't mind staying. He wants to do it because its his job to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently, my Dad is still not out of the Army. He is in Iraq doing his thing. He plans to hopefully retire next year when he comes back. I miss him so much everyday. I'm sad that he can't just fly up and see his grandson whenever he wants to. At the same time I have a enourmous amount of repsect for him. He really is my hero. He has taught me so many things by just &lt;em&gt;being&lt;/em&gt; in the Army. Things that one day I hope I can teach Gage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on this day I think of my Dad. My very own superhero. He is ridding the world of terror.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-6238935778508674667?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6238935778508674667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=6238935778508674667' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6238935778508674667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6238935778508674667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-dad-my-hero.html' title='My Dad, My Hero'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3702865096910569799</id><published>2008-09-10T17:36:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T18:17:51.551-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tip'/><title type='text'>Tip Of The Day</title><content type='html'>After drinking all of a medium ice coffee extra extra from Dunkin Donuts don't pick your child up and start spinning in circles. The result will be you throwing up all over the place. It won't be pretty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3702865096910569799?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3702865096910569799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3702865096910569799' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3702865096910569799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3702865096910569799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/tip-of-day.html' title='Tip Of The Day'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-5012990896865341066</id><published>2008-09-10T00:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-09T23:01:27.131-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>You Never Needed To Know</title><content type='html'>6 Things you never needed nor wanted to know about me. Read them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. If you offer me a piece of gum and I refuse don't get offended. I don't like chewing gum at all. I often forget I have a piece in my mouth and I end up swallowing it without even realizing. I don't know why but that freaks me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I have only broken one bone in my body so far. I broke my right pinky finger while bowling. It got crushed between two bowling balls. I had 8 stitches when I went in the ER. I ended up having surgery on it because I couldn't get my hand to straighten. So I got about 8 more stitches to top it all off. I have a huge scar going up and down my finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. The first time Bush was running for President I made signs that said "Bush Is A Shrub" and posted them in my yard. I was only 14 at the time. My parents voted for him despite my efforts. I still really don't care for the man to this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I have weird anxiety about going to restaurants that I've never been to before. I get so freaked out my eyes blur and I can't read the menu. I have been to known to cry while attempting to order something. Adam is so used to it now he just orders for me if we go somewhere I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Speaking of food I use to HATE syrup. I couldn't even stand to look at the containers they came in. Just thinking about it would make my teeth hurt. I became pregnant and I couldn't get enough syrup. I still like it even if I did have to switch to the 'lite' kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. If I don't write things down - like in a to-do list - I will not get anything done. I have absolutely no memory when it comes to those sorts of things. Whats really funny is I could probably tell you what you were wearing last Tuesday if I saw you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So now that you know 6 random things about me is there anything else you want to know? Ask me some questions. They can be completely random questions or personal ones. Come on, do it!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;BTW; I'm totally annoyed that this isn't a top 10 list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-5012990896865341066?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5012990896865341066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=5012990896865341066' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5012990896865341066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5012990896865341066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/you-never-needed-to-know.html' title='You Never Needed To Know'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2964387840620778859</id><published>2008-09-09T00:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T23:20:49.411-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eyecandy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Celeb'/><title type='text'>Farewell Brady</title><content type='html'>On Sunday we were all amped up for the first Patriots game of the season. Unfortunately, the first football weekend was a very bad weekend for the Patriots. The Queens Fort Household is devastated. The New England Patriots hero, Tom Brady, got hurt in the 1st quarter of the 1st game in the season. He will be out for the rest of the season. It is all anyone is talking about over here in Pats land(kill me now, please). I thought Adam was going to cry and I bet he wasn't alone. I have a feeling many Patriot fans 'round the country felt the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cityofboston.gov/bra/images/pats.logo.sal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.cityofboston.gov/bra/images/pats.logo.sal.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone(media and other football teams) are saying that the Patriots season is over before it has even started. I say don't count them out. Tom Brady is an excellent QB but football is a team sport. Brady wouldn't be such a great QB if he didn't have great teammates year after year. They will pull through and everyone will realize that they can do it without that cocky little Tom Brady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;&amp;If you were wondering if I had made any progress on finding my eye candy among the players I have indeed.  Wes Welker will be Ellsbury of the Patriots. He is number 83 and quite handsome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i.a.cnn.net/si/2008/writers/damon_hack/01/29/welker0204/p1_welker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i.a.cnn.net/si/2008/writers/damon_hack/01/29/welker0204/p1_welker.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yumm. Yep, He will do just fine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2964387840620778859?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2964387840620778859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2964387840620778859' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2964387840620778859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2964387840620778859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/farewell-brady_08.html' title='Farewell Brady'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-6699011617900039705</id><published>2008-09-08T13:05:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T15:22:38.601-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Celeb'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the hills'/><title type='text'>VMA</title><content type='html'>After watching a recap of the VMA's I just have one thing to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When will the world FINALLY get over Britney Spears?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got over Britney two and half years ago when singing "Hit Me Baby" one last time with my gals. My hair is an ugly shade of red and I think I look wasted(I probably was) but I sure do smile while looking at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMV6Ky_ZmgI/AAAAAAAAAO4/e6tCV909Yxw/s1600-h/britneylove2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMV6Ky_ZmgI/AAAAAAAAAO4/e6tCV909Yxw/s320/britneylove2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243731667047782914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lied I have two things to say. The VMA's gave me an extra episode of The Hills so I am a very happy mama today watching it. I can't wait another new episode tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-6699011617900039705?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6699011617900039705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=6699011617900039705' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6699011617900039705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6699011617900039705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/vma.html' title='VMA'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SMV6Ky_ZmgI/AAAAAAAAAO4/e6tCV909Yxw/s72-c/britneylove2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-5507768227245935866</id><published>2008-09-08T00:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T00:45:36.772-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><title type='text'>Stroppin' Away</title><content type='html'>"A plodder at twelve months will be walking a little, their first word will be yes, and their favorite toy is a teddy bear. A stropper will be running, their first word will be no, and their favorite toys will include your hair, the contents of your handbag, and the telephone - but only when you are talking on it."&lt;br /&gt;-The Only Boy For Me, page 65&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest I was expecting Gage to be a nightmare when he was born. He wasn't. He was the easiest laid back baby I had ever seen. We could go to restaurants and out shopping with him. I felt really blessed and everyone kept telling me how lucky I was. I thought Gage was going be a "plodder" kind of kid.  Then all of the sudden my baby turned into a "Stropper" practically overnight. The word 'no' magically appeared into his vocabulary and has been holding strong ever since. His favorite game is 'boom' in which he punches me with his tiny little fists. If I don't play along he pulls my hair really hard. I have Adam to thank for inventing that lovely game. He doesn't have long hair so I am training Gage to pull on his leg hairs which hurt just as bad I would imagine. He steals the phone and hides it. He goes to it when we are busy cooking or cleaning and dials random digits. Gage has already called 911 on it. I have a feeling he is the one who took my wallet and hid on me. If he can get into something he will. If he can't find anything to destroy he will throw himself on the ground and bang his head and feet. He can throw an awesome trantrum for being so little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't mind to tell you the truth. Life won't be boring with my "stropper". It makes me laugh(minus the hair-pulling). I don't think I would want it any other way. I love my stropper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring it on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-5507768227245935866?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5507768227245935866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=5507768227245935866' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5507768227245935866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5507768227245935866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/stroppin-away.html' title='Stroppin&apos; Away'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-742262433601113567</id><published>2008-09-06T21:52:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T22:25:39.686-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strong dislike aka hate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='entrecard'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='myspace'/><title type='text'>Waste Of Time</title><content type='html'>So I joined &lt;a href="http://entrecard.com/"&gt;EntreCard&lt;/a&gt; a couple of days ago. Its kind of addicting to go to sites and 'drop' your card. It feels like I'm in a secret society except that thousands of people use it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, one day while I was 'campaigning'(Don't you love this secret society language?) I 'dropped' my card on this one moms site a few times. She is an Army mom and my heart goes out to all Army moms. So tonight I'm looking on my IRL(in real life, in case you don't know) friends blog and she was linked to her. This time though I noticed her blog had her name in it. I couldn't believe it! I actually knew this person that I just randomly started 'dropping' on! Thats a small world, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only problem is this girl &lt;strike&gt;sucks majorally at life&lt;/strike&gt; attempted to start rumors about me, wrote horribly ugly things to me, and wrote mean blogs about me on her myspace. She even made fun of Gage's name when she found out. WTF? I never really did anything to HER. She just didn't know my situation at the time and made false assumptions about what was going in MY life that she just didn't approve of. I didn't really care what she thought about me(we weren't even friends) but I will never get over how cruel and horrible of a person she was to me when it was none of her business to start with and she didn't even know what she was talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entrecard is really cool and all but I wish there was feature where you could get back your 'drops' because I regret wasting the last few days browsing her blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Don't worry guys I don't normally go around bloggin' about other bloggers that bug me but I had to make an exception because I just had like the worst OMGWTF moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-742262433601113567?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/742262433601113567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=742262433601113567' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/742262433601113567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/742262433601113567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/waste-of-time.html' title='Waste Of Time'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2090002723324901665</id><published>2008-09-05T08:44:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T08:46:46.680-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Island'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Question'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adam'/><title type='text'>Desert Island</title><content type='html'>I was watching the news this morning and everyday they ask a question and viewers send in their emails. Todays &lt;a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080904/od_uk_nm/oukoe_uk_usa_pets"&gt;question&lt;/a&gt; was absolutely ridiculous to me. It was 'Would you rather be stranded with your pet or your significant other on a desert island?'. That to me seems like a no brainer. Given those options I would obviously pick Adam over BooBoo anyday. They both get on my nerves really bad but atleast one of them can actually talk to me back. I talk way too much to be stranded with someone who can only say bark. Of course, I love Adam, too. We could make tree houses and spear fish. That would be wicked. Anyway, Would you be surprised to know that more than 2/3 of Americans would pick their pet over their significant other?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I actually got the choice to pick WHOEVER/WHATEVER I wanted to bring to a deserted island my first pick would be Gage given that this island has plenty of food and already built shelter. If it didn't then I would want to leave little man with my mom where he was safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2090002723324901665?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2090002723324901665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2090002723324901665' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2090002723324901665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2090002723324901665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/desert-island.html' title='Desert Island'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-7132649093020820668</id><published>2008-09-04T11:16:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T11:18:00.223-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Prettyness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><title type='text'>The Dress</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL_72QsFBJI/AAAAAAAAAOU/cRpaRTHb_Xw/s1600-h/dress3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL_72QsFBJI/AAAAAAAAAOU/cRpaRTHb_Xw/s400/dress3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242185400893899922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-7132649093020820668?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7132649093020820668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=7132649093020820668' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7132649093020820668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7132649093020820668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/dress.html' title='The Dress'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL_72QsFBJI/AAAAAAAAAOU/cRpaRTHb_Xw/s72-c/dress3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-6419901335830825756</id><published>2008-09-04T00:08:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T22:20:48.786-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mystery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crocs'/><title type='text'>The Case Of The Missing Shoe</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;Lost/Stolen Croc&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL9EmN11PgI/AAAAAAAAAOM/pMhQRslYb0w/s1600-h/greencroc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL9EmN11PgI/AAAAAAAAAOM/pMhQRslYb0w/s320/greencroc.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241983914623712770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Reward if found.&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was out shopping for a dress to wear to a wedding. On the third store, 10 dresses later, and a cranky Gage I was ready to call it quits. I looked down to tell Gage that we are finally going home and what do I find? A shoe has gone missing from his tiny footsie. Naturally, when something goes missing you start looking everywhere for it. I even got on my hands and knees and was crawling underneath all the racks we visited while there. I'm sure everyone there thought I was crazy. I was talking out loud about the lost shoe. I muttered under my breath 'theives' as I walked away from the dress aisle. I went up to the service desk and told them we lost a shoe. I explained that its his favorite shoe and he will miss it so much if its not found. They said they would page me over the intercom if someone turned it in. While I was waiting I decided to try on 4 more freakin' dresses. When I was done there was still no shoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I KNOW 100% without a doubt that Gage went in that store with BOTH shoes on. That only leaves me to believe that someone stole his tiny size 5 shoe. Why? I don't know. I don't understand. You need the left one. What good is one shoe? The left gets lonely without the right and the right feels the same way. His Winnie The Pooh jibbit needs to stare at the guitar jibbit on the other shoe. Its just the way it is. I'm so devastated by this. I'm not crazy...or atleast I'm not crazy alone because Adam feels the same way. Those shoes are pretty much the only shoe Gage has worn ALL summer. They slip right on and out the door we go. I'm going to call the store back today(and the other two just in case but I know it isn't there) to see if it might have turned up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, the shoe will turn up. If not thank goodness summer is almost over and its almost time to move on to another warmer pair of shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, I did finally find a dress. Its beautiful. I'm in love with it. I would marry it if I could.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-6419901335830825756?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6419901335830825756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=6419901335830825756' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6419901335830825756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6419901335830825756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/case-of-missing-shoe.html' title='The Case Of The Missing Shoe'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL9EmN11PgI/AAAAAAAAAOM/pMhQRslYb0w/s72-c/greencroc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3987971305521150085</id><published>2008-09-03T00:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T23:13:21.653-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='addiction'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='free stuff'/><title type='text'>Free Is Fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL3vCp7RNHI/AAAAAAAAAOE/KrisRbcBD8w/s1600-h/free.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL3vCp7RNHI/AAAAAAAAAOE/KrisRbcBD8w/s320/free.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241608370222347378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About once a week something random will come in the mail that I got for free off of some freebies site. I am addicted to this crap. There is no way in the world I need these samples of coffee, shampoo, and girly products. I've gotten journals, pens, free postcards, wine posters, vote 08 pin, etc, etc. I could keep going. Its mainly just junk but sometimes I will get something in the mail that is awesome. For instance I got this really neat bowl for Gage from...I can't even remember the name but its great! I also got a really nifty &lt;a href="http://www.fsisolutions.com/KCPullUpsDVD/"&gt;potty training video&lt;/a&gt; that will come in handy when that time comes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I did it again. I started going crazy signing up for free stuff. It kind of makes me excited to check the mail everyday. I love presents even if they aren't useful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ordered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.redsquarevodka.co.uk/"&gt;A free ice tray&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nohmcandles.com/offers.aspx"&gt;A soy tea light&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.chinaslantern.com/packages.html"&gt;A Chinese silk woven hankerchief&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.canopyliving.com/ideabookreq.html"&gt;An idea design book&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.seventhgeneration.com/request-diaper-sample"&gt;Size 3 diaper sample&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slime.com/index.php?p=custom_page&amp;page_name=Promo%20Page"&gt;Tire Gauge&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few sites I frequent for my habit:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fatwallet.com/forums/free-stuff/"&gt;Fat Wallet&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://absurdlycool.com/"&gt;Absurdlycool&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thunderfap.com/"&gt;Thunderfap&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I should go to rehab for this. I am like seriously addicted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3987971305521150085?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3987971305521150085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3987971305521150085' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3987971305521150085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3987971305521150085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/free-is-fun.html' title='Free Is Fun'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SL3vCp7RNHI/AAAAAAAAAOE/KrisRbcBD8w/s72-c/free.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-5290301380986002827</id><published>2008-09-02T00:00:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T22:25:14.723-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scared'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='can&apos;t sleep'/><title type='text'>Mother is God</title><content type='html'>I use to be a big fan of scary movies. The scarier the better was how I rolled. I don't know what has changed over the years but I cannot watch a scary movie by myself anymore. The other night we crawled into bed to watch the movie Silent Hill. Its a movie based on a video game. We were like 30 minutes into the movie and right when it was finally getting scary I noticed Adam rolling over on his side. I begged and pleaded for him to stay awake. He passed out like 5 minutes later. Damn him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There I was lying awake in bed while my boys slept. The windows were open and people were being chased, burned, and dying on my television set. The off button on the remote teased me. My fingers couldn't bare to reach out and touch the remote. I didn't want to move out from under the blanket.  Finally, it got to the point where I was so scared I was crying my eyes out. I kept telling myself that it was just a movie. It was far fetched and nothing could ever happen like that in real life. Still I was scared. I managed to calm myself down some but just then out of nowhere...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...my phone rang. &lt;br /&gt;Man, did it ever scare me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm glad it did ring because in the movie the phones were broken and didn't get service. So I knew I was safe lying in between my boys under my warm blanket.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-5290301380986002827?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5290301380986002827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=5290301380986002827' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5290301380986002827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5290301380986002827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/only-demon-knows-where-she-is.html' title='Mother is God'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1457564007277158425</id><published>2008-09-01T10:16:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T13:19:59.765-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Labor'/><title type='text'>Birth Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.rocksinmydryer.typepad.com/"&gt;Rocks In My Dryer&lt;/a&gt; is hosting a Labor Day meme in honor of Labor Day. Her MEME is about the childbirth kind of labor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLv_AgY5wdI/AAAAAAAAANY/62Kc9q3ukvs/s1600-h/gagegrennan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLv_AgY5wdI/AAAAAAAAANY/62Kc9q3ukvs/s400/gagegrennan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241062975535170002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How did you know you were in labor?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Adam were sitting around watching the Sopranos and doing word searches. All of a sudden I had this sharp pain that literally made me throw my word puzzles across the room. They kept coming just like that. Being a procrastinator I still hadn't packed for the hospital so I start running around. Finally, I gave up out of pain and told Adam(who was still watching Sopranos) that we needed to go NOWWWW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How long were you in labor?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night I was going into labor RI was being hit with a Nor'Easter. We live 30 minutes away from the hospital and it was so windy. Trees were down everywhere. Including our planned route to the hospital. We got a little lost. By the time we made it to the hospital I was 8cm dialated. My labor only ended up being 5 1/2 hours from the time I felt my first contraction at the house until I had gave birth to my little man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Where did you deliver?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved the hospital I gave birth at. I got to have a room that overlooked Newport Bridge and the bay. It was beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Drugs?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had planned on having an epidural but I ended up having NOTHING because I was told the epi would slow down my contractions. I figured since I was already 8cm I might as well just go all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who delivered?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My doctor(we nicknamed him Dr.Low Talker), bless his soul, had to drive in the Nor'Easter. It took him over an hour to get there. At one point I told him I was going to kick him in his head. He put up with a lot from me that night. He is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite Quotes Of The April 16, 2007:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I added this one but everytime we tell the birth story these quotes always get brought up because they are hilarious&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am going to kick you in your head if you don't get your finger out of me!!!"&lt;br /&gt;-Me yelling at my doctor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dr.Low Talker: Do you want to see your placenta?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Are you freakin' kiddin' me? NOO!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1457564007277158425?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1457564007277158425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1457564007277158425' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1457564007277158425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1457564007277158425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/09/birth-story.html' title='Birth Story'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLv_AgY5wdI/AAAAAAAAANY/62Kc9q3ukvs/s72-c/gagegrennan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-602153974041407191</id><published>2008-08-31T16:26:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T23:54:53.249-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adam'/><title type='text'>Sunday Time Together</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLr-lRx4YoI/AAAAAAAAANQ/0YLf1sRQMQg/s1600-h/101_0099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLr-lRx4YoI/AAAAAAAAANQ/0YLf1sRQMQg/s400/101_0099.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240781032780227202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday is my favorite day of the week. We are so busy during the week with both of us working. Neither me or Adam work on Sundays.  We can just relax and be a family together on this day. It was a fun day. I love my boys. I'm thankful for my Sundays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: Don't worry about all the overgrown weeds in the back of the picture. I think I just mentioned that we are busy people. Fall/winter is coming so they will die soon, anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-602153974041407191?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/602153974041407191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=602153974041407191' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/602153974041407191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/602153974041407191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/sunday-time-together.html' title='Sunday Time Together'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLr-lRx4YoI/AAAAAAAAANQ/0YLf1sRQMQg/s72-c/101_0099.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3405651957327092328</id><published>2008-08-29T00:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T00:08:42.058-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BooBoo'/><title type='text'>Master Baker He Is</title><content type='html'>Gage can finally call our dog by its name. He use to call him Pup and now he calls him BooBoo. His name is actually Bruschi(pronounced Brew-ski). Yes, Bruschi is named after a Patriots football player. What can I say? We are obsessed. Gage now runs around saying "BooBoo Sit" and "BooBoo 'Mon(which is actually come on)". It is so cute how much Gage loves his puppy and that he finally knows his name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to celebrate his new word. Gage decided he wanted to bake cookies. Not just any kind of cookies, mind you. He wanted to bake puppy themed cookies. I sat him in his highchair and away he went making his cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here he is mixing his ingredients: &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1XLsEUgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/JJP_R_yRLy8/s1600-h/101_0113.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1XLsEUgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/JJP_R_yRLy8/s400/101_0113.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239785732603924994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is cutting his puppy shapes: &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1gA4883I/AAAAAAAAAMk/uka8iJZlwyk/s1600-h/101_0115.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1gA4883I/AAAAAAAAAMk/uka8iJZlwyk/s400/101_0115.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239785884324000626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the finished result: &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1oxohMoI/AAAAAAAAAMs/_FA7Lhg88mc/s1600-h/101_0116.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1oxohMoI/AAAAAAAAAMs/_FA7Lhg88mc/s400/101_0116.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239786034847363714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you Gage is an excellent baker. Those cookies were DELICIOUS! They were so good that even Bruschi the pup had to get in on the action. BooBoo decided to eat the mixing spoon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1yrTS-II/AAAAAAAAAM0/2r4b_m-eoUM/s1600-h/101_0117.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1yrTS-II/AAAAAAAAAM0/2r4b_m-eoUM/s400/101_0117.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239786204946430082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd14c7zx8I/AAAAAAAAAM8/3fNNa5VASK4/s1600-h/101_0119.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd14c7zx8I/AAAAAAAAAM8/3fNNa5VASK4/s400/101_0119.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239786304169035714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was a fun day. I love when Gage makes me awesomely delicious treats.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3405651957327092328?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3405651957327092328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3405651957327092328' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3405651957327092328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3405651957327092328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/master-baker-he-is.html' title='Master Baker He Is'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SLd1XLsEUgI/AAAAAAAAAMc/JJP_R_yRLy8/s72-c/101_0113.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2788592200825053148</id><published>2008-08-28T00:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T22:31:51.676-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Prettyness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grr'/><title type='text'>Backwards Compliment</title><content type='html'>Its always really nice when someone pays you a compliment. I'm sure that is something we all need and don't get much of. Atleast...I don't get that many. However, I think there is something worse than receiving no compliments at all. I think the worst is getting a backwards compliment. You know something like, "Those shoes are cute! They are a lot cuter than the ones you usually wear!". Those kind of compliments leave you standing there absolutely speechless. You are left wondering if you were just complimented or insulted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was given a backwards compliment at work last weekend. I've gotten to know a coworkers daughter pretty well since we started working there. Me and The Mom started on the same day almost 2 years ago. The daughter told her mom not to tell me what she said. I kind of wished she didn't tell me now because I am left wondering. She said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Most people get uglier over the years but Meg is the opposite she got prettier."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So all I could think of in my head was WTF? I couldn't decide if she was saying I was ugly(or atleast not that attractive)or if I was pretty and instead of getting ugly I got even more pretty. I like the latter better but why would she not want her mom to tell me? I don't think it would be embarrassing for her because people like hearing other people compliment them. That leads me to believe it was a backwards compliment and that just sucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I am not fishing for compliments. To be quite honest with you all I happen to think I'm smokin' hot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2788592200825053148?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2788592200825053148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2788592200825053148' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2788592200825053148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2788592200825053148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/backwards-compliment.html' title='Backwards Compliment'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1160436122560626727</id><published>2008-08-27T00:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T00:00:01.776-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grr'/><title type='text'>Park Dilemma</title><content type='html'>The big kid in me loves going to the park with Gage. We slide together, climb together, run and swing together. We have a lot of fun with it just being me and him there. We usually go to a park where there is never anyone there. Its a really good park. I don't know why people don't go but that is fine with me. Then I start feeling bad because Gage loves interacting with other kiddos and he needs to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on occassion I will take Gage to the more crowded park that is just down the road. Gage has a shy side just like his mama. When we first get to the more crowded park he sticks by me and wants to me slide, run, and swing. Not a problem except I feel like I'm being stared at by all the other parents who aren't exactly playing with their kid(s). They all kind of stand back and watch their kid(s) play. There is nothing wrong with that but Gage is a little shy so I'm usually playing with him instead of standing around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the little man warms up to the other kids at the park and starts to play with them. Now I don't know what is worse everyone watching my fatt butt go down a slide or standing there awkwardly with nothing to do and no one to talk with. I was always told the best place to meet other moms is at the park. That would be awesome because I lack friends here in the Ocean State but I found out really quick that its just not that easy. Most moms go to the park with other moms for a playdate aka moms social hour. Unless I'm actually invited into the convo then I'm not just going to butt in. There are a few moms who are there by themselves with their kid(s). I think I lack basic social skills because it feels so strained but its something we all feel obligated to do. Thankfully, those conversations never last long because kids aren't able to play in one spot for long. Of course, then I'm left standing awkwardly in a new spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I can't win when it comes to playing at a park.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1160436122560626727?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1160436122560626727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1160436122560626727' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1160436122560626727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1160436122560626727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/park-dilemma.html' title='Park Dilemma'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2697201386816866275</id><published>2008-08-26T14:42:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T14:56:17.474-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='catch up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='award'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='contest'/><title type='text'>Catch Up</title><content type='html'>I have been slacking on a part of my blogging. I realized that it might make me look like a...well a female dog. So here is all my Thank Yous:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://newkate.blogspot.com/"&gt;Katie Says&lt;/a&gt; awarded me with an "I love your blog" award.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v604/heyprettylady/misc/Iloveyourblog.png"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the rules are:&lt;br /&gt;1. The winner can put the logo on her blog.&lt;br /&gt;2. Link the person you received the award from.&lt;br /&gt;3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.&lt;br /&gt;4. Put links of those blogs on yours.&lt;br /&gt;5. Leave a message on the girls’ blogs you have nominated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are my 7:&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;a href="http://elisebarnette.wordpress.com/"&gt;Elise's Happenings&amp;Wonderings&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;a href="http://wanderingdc.blogspot.com/"&gt;Wandering Dc&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;a href="http://glamlifehousewife.blogspot.com/"&gt;Glam Life Housewife&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;a href="http://abrightfuture.wordpress.com/"&gt;A Bright Future&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;a href="http://ineedamartini.blogspot.com/"&gt;I Need A Martini...Now!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;a href="http://allieparkersthoughts.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Pink Potpourri&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. &lt;a href="http://casamarialiving.blogspot.com/"&gt;Casa Maria&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love all of those blogs. So, visit those blogs and love them, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awhile back I wrote an entry for a martini contest that &lt;a href="http://ineedamartini.blogspot.com/"&gt;Molly&lt;/a&gt;was doing. Well, I won a prize! I won a little martini shaker! Its pretty kick ass. I had plan to write a whole post about it of me making drinks but I haven't had a chance to use it yet! So, I thought that I should mention I won and Molly kicks some serious butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;I am also honored to have become an honorary geek thanks to you &lt;a href="http://badassgeek.blogspot.com"&gt;Bad Ass Geek.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm61/badassgeek/badge.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR EVERYTHING!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2697201386816866275?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2697201386816866275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2697201386816866275' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2697201386816866275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2697201386816866275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/catch-up.html' title='Catch Up'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-8559308052223082682</id><published>2008-08-26T00:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T00:03:01.465-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='top 10'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='list'/><title type='text'>True Mom Confessions</title><content type='html'>True Mom Confessions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.Most of the time I dread going to work but there are some days that I cannot wait until 4:45 to come so I can dash out the door for 4 hours. I love Gage with all my heart but some days he can just give me the biggest headache ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.I pretty much take a nap everyday when Gage does. After I wake up I feel like a horrible SAHM because I know I should have been doing something a little more productive then sleeping. I must say that I am a little cranky without naps especially on days that I have to go to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.I totally lied when I said I loved everything about Gage. I do not love his stinky poops. I love his cute little diaper bottom but I really can't wait until he can wipe his own tush. I have a long way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.I really really hate when Gage sleeps with me and Adam. Adam doesn't seem to mind. I can't sleep at all when he is in bed with us. I'm worrying about Adam rolling on him or him rolling off the bed. I'm usually also being kicked in the face by tiny toes and all the covers somehow end up only on them two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.I use Gage as an excuse if I don't want to do something. Work? Sorry, Gage is sick. Friends? Sorry, Gage is teething. Family outings? Gage NEEdS to take his nap. Its pretty bad and its all going to end one day when he knows whats up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.I'm going to miss when Gage isn't my baby. I don't want him to grow up because I don't think I will get to have anymore children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.I really don't mind watching the cartoons in the morning with Gage. I love Handy Manny, My Friends Tigger&amp;Pooh, Sesame Street, Yo Gabba Gabba, Doodlepops, etc. I think I am just as entertained as he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.Sometimes I get sad when I'm at work because I'm jealous that Adam is with Gage and I might miss something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.Gage gives me an excuse to go shopping. I'm a shopaholic. When I feel the need to go shopping I can just buy something for Gage and I won't even feel guilty about it. Hey, Gage needs it(ok, he doesn't usually).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.Sometimes I wish Gage was installed with a mute button. I know that sounds horrible but sometimes I just can't take all the whining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-8559308052223082682?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/8559308052223082682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=8559308052223082682' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8559308052223082682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8559308052223082682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/true-mom-confessions.html' title='True Mom Confessions'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1362793475352291787</id><published>2008-08-25T01:09:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T08:20:39.697-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='product review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Neti Pot Fun</title><content type='html'>Have you guys used or heard of the Neti Pot? The Neti Pot washes out your sinuses. It looks like a tiny tea pot and it pours salt water through your nose.I saw this on an episode of &lt;a href="http://www.oprah.com/slideshow/oprahshow/slideshow1_ss_oz_20070426/6"&gt;Oprah&lt;/a&gt; and I knew I had to try one. We had ladies night on Saturday so we went ahead and tested it out. The ladies wouldn't let me take pictures because you look absolutely ridiculous doing it. Here is what I'm talking about if you didn't click the link above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://static.oprah.com/images/tows/200704/20070426/20070426_106_350x263.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://static.oprah.com/images/tows/200704/20070426/20070426_106_350x263.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't like the Neti Pot at all. I felt like I was drowning. The water was in the back of my throat and I kept forgetting to breathe. I can't even tell you if it worked because I'm so retarded at Neti Pot I couldn't even get a drip going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I wasn't successful, Neti Pot did provide tons&amp;tons of laughter. That alone is enough to make&amp;watch everyone use one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1362793475352291787?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1362793475352291787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1362793475352291787' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1362793475352291787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1362793475352291787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/neti-pot-fun.html' title='Neti Pot Fun'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2031051477340939821</id><published>2008-08-24T15:19:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T15:22:22.169-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry</title><content type='html'>Excuse the mess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally figured out the 3 column layout thanks to &lt;a href="http://www.missusbountybasket.com/"&gt;MissusBountyBasket&lt;/a&gt; but I have no time to make it all pretty right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2031051477340939821?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2031051477340939821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2031051477340939821' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2031051477340939821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2031051477340939821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/sorry.html' title='Sorry'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1087423292146925078</id><published>2008-08-23T01:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T01:10:12.079-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grr'/><title type='text'>Help Much?</title><content type='html'>vbjnfg7895389njgfndnnnnnnnnnnnvfd99690696566ut57854 b  r8548dddddjir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was me smashing my head against the keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a 3 column layout for my blog. I have searched around on the web and found a few things. When I actually go to do the things I've found to make a 3 column layout I get error messages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, someone help me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1087423292146925078?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1087423292146925078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1087423292146925078' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1087423292146925078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1087423292146925078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/help-much.html' title='Help Much?'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-4643963847058210854</id><published>2008-08-22T07:26:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T07:31:39.143-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eyecandy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Celeb'/><title type='text'>I Need Eye Candy</title><content type='html'>Football season is about to begin. It is almost time for chili and warm sweaters. I'm a little sad because I love baseball(and summer!). I don't want to see it end. Granted, I don't think baseball season ACTUALLY ends until maybe October. In this house though it pretty much ends as soon as football season starts. We still occasionally catch a baseball game if the Red Sox are still doing good at this point. However,I feel like the remote is ripped away from me and every day/night there is a game because that is what I'm going to be watching. Don't get me wrong I LOVE football. I can actually really get into any sport at all just don't ask me play them. I can't play sports but I sure love to watch them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my problem with football is there is not enough eye candy for me. No, I'm serious. I need something pretty to look at or I can't thoroughly enjoy the sport.&lt;br /&gt;I know that they walk around in their tight little pants and what not but there is not a single player that I love to just stare at. In baseball I love to stare at Jacoby Ellsbury. I could stare at him all day long. He is a hottie. In this house we don't even watch baseball games unless the Red Sox are playing so it works out for me seeing as Jacoby Ellsbury plays for the Red Sox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v604/heyprettylady/misc/hottie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v604/heyprettylady/misc/hottie.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that football season is approaching I know that my Ellsbury days are limited and I will be left with nothing but sweaty football players. Most people probably wouldn't find this to be a problem. They could just look at their TV screen when a game is on and be like "oh, he is cute!". I can't do that. It has to be a player on the New England Patriots or I will be deemed a traitor in this house. That is just how the rules go when you live in a New England state. I never knew this being a Southerner and all. I learned fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I can jump on the whole Tom Brady bandwagon but, really, I think its a little over done. He is a hottie but he knows it. That is what bugs me. I don't want my eye candy football man to be cocky. Plus, a million other fans think he is a hottie. It just doesn't work for me. Ok, ok. I know a lot of women love Ellsbury but I think I was his first fan. I'm going to keep telling myself that, too. So, hush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thesportshernia.com/football/images/brady.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.thesportshernia.com/football/images/brady.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my mission before football season starts is to find a Patriots player that is good looking and I can lust over for the rest of the year and then some. If you know of any, please, hook a sista up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-4643963847058210854?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/4643963847058210854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=4643963847058210854' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4643963847058210854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4643963847058210854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-need-eye-candy.html' title='I Need Eye Candy'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2244607476130115093</id><published>2008-08-21T12:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T15:09:50.644-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='1986'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><title type='text'>The Year I Was Born</title><content type='html'>In the year I was born all of these things happened;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The space shuttle,Challenger, disintergrates after launch.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The 58th Academy Awards are held in Los Angeles, California with Out Of Africa winning Best Picture.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Roger Clemens set the record for the most strikeouts in a nine inning MLB game, striking out 20 batters.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Donna Reed died in this year.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Walk Like An Egyptian" by the Bangles was a hit song.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The woman’s work suit was one of the most significant pieces of designer clothing during this time. Shoulder Pads all the way.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The president was Ronald Reagan.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What everything cost;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bread: $0.56/loaf&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Milk: $1.92/gal &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eggs: $1.21/doz &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gas: $0.76/gal&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stamp: $0.22/ea&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think telling you the President at the time and the info about the Challenger gives it away, but what year was I born in? Don't google, cheaters.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2244607476130115093?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2244607476130115093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2244607476130115093' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2244607476130115093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2244607476130115093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/year-i-was-born.html' title='The Year I Was Born'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-8714334487533474185</id><published>2008-08-20T23:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T23:42:18.074-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='survey'/><title type='text'>The I Survey</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I am:&lt;/strong&gt; an amazing mom,girlfriend,daughter,sister and friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I think:&lt;/strong&gt; about how things will be in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I know:&lt;/strong&gt; that everything will always work out in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have:&lt;/strong&gt; no idea where I will be next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I wish:&lt;/strong&gt; that I could make everyone that was ill better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I hate:&lt;/strong&gt; close minded douchebags, bad drivers and dumb customers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I miss:&lt;/strong&gt; having friends to turn to when I need a hug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I crave:&lt;/strong&gt; for something sweet to eat everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I search:&lt;/strong&gt; for where I belong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I wonder:&lt;/strong&gt; what people are thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I regret:&lt;/strong&gt; nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love:&lt;/strong&gt; my two boys with all my heart &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I ache:&lt;/strong&gt; when someone is mad at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I dance:&lt;/strong&gt; whenever I hear music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I sing:&lt;/strong&gt; everytime I get in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I cry:&lt;/strong&gt; very easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I've never:&lt;/strong&gt; made a list of all the things I want to do in life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I always:&lt;/strong&gt; get a glass of water before bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I listen:&lt;/strong&gt; to everything anyone says. I have a good memory, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am scared:&lt;/strong&gt; of the dark, bugs, doors being unlocked when I'm sleeping, cliffs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am happy about:&lt;/strong&gt; my whole life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-8714334487533474185?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/8714334487533474185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=8714334487533474185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8714334487533474185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8714334487533474185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-survey.html' title='The I Survey'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1335670230361850321</id><published>2008-08-20T21:28:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T21:37:44.941-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='can&apos;t sleep'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Yearbook Bandwagon</title><content type='html'>Jumping onto the bandwagon with &lt;a href="http://ineedamartini.blogspot.com/"&gt;Molly&lt;/a&gt;&amp;&lt;a href="http://mamakatslosinit.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kat&lt;/a&gt;, I decided that my yearbook photos were pretty awesome and needed to be posted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzFka-xMbI/AAAAAAAAAIs/byG7hE-idW8/s1600-h/1966me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzFka-xMbI/AAAAAAAAAIs/byG7hE-idW8/s320/1966me.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236777696233599410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzGHetCk1I/AAAAAAAAAI0/X3QFxvReKyI/s1600-h/1976me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzGHetCk1I/AAAAAAAAAI0/X3QFxvReKyI/s320/1976me.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236778298528404306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzGOq_b-EI/AAAAAAAAAI8/ralxVkmQ2w0/s1600-h/1984me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzGOq_b-EI/AAAAAAAAAI8/ralxVkmQ2w0/s320/1984me.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236778422085875778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzGUsBXB8I/AAAAAAAAAJE/Pu_ztreWdjs/s1600-h/1994.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzGUsBXB8I/AAAAAAAAAJE/Pu_ztreWdjs/s320/1994.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236778525441591234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about you all but I think I look pretty cute in 1976.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Source: &lt;a href="http://yearbookyourself.com"&gt;yearbookyourself.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1335670230361850321?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1335670230361850321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1335670230361850321' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1335670230361850321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1335670230361850321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/yearbook-bandwagon.html' title='Yearbook Bandwagon'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKzFka-xMbI/AAAAAAAAAIs/byG7hE-idW8/s72-c/1966me.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-5693834051524237501</id><published>2008-08-20T12:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T12:17:46.105-04:00</updated><title type='text'>About Me</title><content type='html'>My name is Meg. Don't worry about what its short for. Just call me Meg. I am in my early &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/year-i-was-born.html"&gt;twenties&lt;/a&gt;. I'd like to think I act my age but I think I act a little older because everyone around me is usually older. I also don't act my age because most people my age don't have a beautiful &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/so-fresh-clean-clean.html"&gt;little man&lt;/a&gt; to take care of. I wouldn't change it for the world. I love him more than I love anything. Right now I currently reside in &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/homeless.html"&gt;Rhode Island&lt;/a&gt;. The man who stole my heart(and still has it) is from this tiny Ocean State. I don't know if I would call it home yet but in time I'm sure it will feel that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been told I am a crafty person. I enjoy making &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/coasting-thoughts.html"&gt;things&lt;/a&gt;. Shopping is my salvation. Just tell me when&amp;where. You can pretty much always find me singing&amp;dancing. It doesn't matter what. Bring it on. I also enjoy a nice glass of Dr. Pepper every now and again. I love curling up with a good book after everyone goes to bed. I root for the &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-need-eye-candy.html"&gt;Red Sox&lt;/a&gt; and the Patriots. If you don't then you pretty much suck at life(just kidding). I'm a fun easy going gal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is me in a nutshell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-5693834051524237501?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5693834051524237501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=5693834051524237501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5693834051524237501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5693834051524237501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/about-me.html' title='About Me'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-4949479757634839684</id><published>2008-08-20T10:42:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T10:58:48.141-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='first'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair'/><title type='text'>First Haircut</title><content type='html'>After pressure from Adam and random strangers calling Gage a girl I decided it was time for the first haircut. Since my mom lives so far away I thought it would be nice for her to be there for one of Gages 'first'. She was ecstatic, of course. I wish I felt the same way but I didn't. Gage had beautiful blonde curls. I absolutely adored them and I didn't want to cut them EVER. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the reason I was not thrilled with cutting them because when I was his age I had wicked curly hair, too. My brother being 4 years older than me was fascinated with scissors. He decided I needed MY first haircut. After it was all said and done I had no curls to speak of and they never grew back. I just have wavy-pain-in-the-ass hair that I have to straighten everyday. Anyway, I was obviously traumatized by this event even if I can't exactly remember it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All week on my trip my mom kept asking me when we could get Gage's haircut. Adam said he would kick my ass if I came back without giving Gage a haircut and my mom couldn't wait any longer. I managed to hold her off until Sunday. We walked into the little salon and I wanted to scoop my baby up and run away. The lady cutting his hair was awesome and after a lot of questions I was reassured she wasn't going to butcher his hair. Gage sat all by himself in a little booster seat with a tiny apron thing over him. He looked so cute. I can't believe how amazingly well he did. He just sat there and you can tell he was fully relaxed and loving being groomed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch the video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b53d09591b016de5" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db53d09591b016de5%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331479898%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D36A991F5105CEA53243A82AC09A405A97901B8BF.1E8CC06C4E95808E56E436E847AFE002232A5AA0%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db53d09591b016de5%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DSKLPynrgm6J1iYzEmtUktZJWyOI&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db53d09591b016de5%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331479898%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D36A991F5105CEA53243A82AC09A405A97901B8BF.1E8CC06C4E95808E56E436E847AFE002232A5AA0%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db53d09591b016de5%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DSKLPynrgm6J1iYzEmtUktZJWyOI&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news is that almost instantly all the hair on his head popped into curls just like before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;A href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKwuG6Nrg6I/AAAAAAAAAIk/_CMAq9tAq2Y/s1600-h/101_0088.JPG"&gt;&lt;IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236611162965771170 style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKwuG6Nrg6I/AAAAAAAAAIk/_CMAq9tAq2Y/s320/101_0088.JPG" 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/2744213592875675958-4949479757634839684?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=b53d09591b016de5&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/4949479757634839684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=4949479757634839684' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4949479757634839684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4949479757634839684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/first-haircut.html' title='First Haircut'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKwuG6Nrg6I/AAAAAAAAAIk/_CMAq9tAq2Y/s72-c/101_0088.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2939113337365017504</id><published>2008-08-19T15:02:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T15:18:08.818-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kissing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ambur'/><title type='text'>Scandalous</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKsY3wTvR2I/AAAAAAAAAIM/444_GgONZ_4/s1600-h/101_0048.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236306337887897442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKsY3wTvR2I/AAAAAAAAAIM/444_GgONZ_4/s320/101_0048.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I kissed a girl and I liked it&lt;br /&gt;The taste of her cherry chap stick&lt;br /&gt;I kissed a girl just to try it&lt;br /&gt;I hope my boyfriend don't mind it"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ambur, my best friend, and I had a night out while I was in town. A few Sam Adams later this is what happened. She didn't have cherry chap stick on. She was using carmex and my boyfriend did mind. In fact he told me I should be burn this picture and bleach my mouth before I get herpes. If I get herpes I think I will be ok with that because they will be best friend herpes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;JUST KIDDING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Everyone thinks Amburs a little skank but she is my favorite skank. I love her and her skanky ways.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKsaYeop2hI/AAAAAAAAAIU/HRpvJlnPqiM/s1600-h/101_0073.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236307999591094802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKsaYeop2hI/AAAAAAAAAIU/HRpvJlnPqiM/s320/101_0073.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKsashrN6dI/AAAAAAAAAIc/EjsUrEOIABE/s1600-h/101_0028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKsashrN6dI/AAAAAAAAAIc/EjsUrEOIABE/s320/101_0028.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236308344004536786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are MILFS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-2939113337365017504?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2939113337365017504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2939113337365017504' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2939113337365017504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2939113337365017504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/scandalous.html' title='Scandalous'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SKsY3wTvR2I/AAAAAAAAAIM/444_GgONZ_4/s72-c/101_0048.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-4841223080852931527</id><published>2008-08-19T11:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T11:13:28.680-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clarksville'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Homeless</title><content type='html'>I am back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can actually say I am glad to be back in RI. When I use to visit TN I would miss "home" when I came back here. This time is different. Clarksville no longer felt like home. It has changed so much in the last year and all together in the 2 years since I moved away. It doesn't feel like the same place. I was trying to give directions to the house I grew up in and I couldn't do it! There are so many new buildings, streets, and neighborhoods and I had no clue what they were called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does RI feel like "home" to me? No, not at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am homeless for the time being.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-4841223080852931527?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/4841223080852931527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=4841223080852931527' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4841223080852931527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4841223080852931527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/homeless.html' title='Homeless'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-4274509541330278706</id><published>2008-08-12T18:40:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T18:44:36.640-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='conversations'/><title type='text'>My Mom</title><content type='html'>I love my mom to death but she really is the definition of a dumb blonde. She is ditzy and clueless to boot. This week is going to be full of laughter thanks to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: So how do you play asshole?&lt;br /&gt;Me: You pass out all the cards. The person with the 3 of clubs goes first.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: What happens if no one has the 3 of clubs?&lt;br /&gt;(I just give my mom this AREYOUKIDDINGME look?&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Oh, thats right someone has to have it if you pass all the cards out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, the plane ride was fine. Gage was horrible but what can you do. We went to the Louisville Zoo today. Fun stuff. Tomorrow we are off to Tennessee for the rest of the week. I don't think I'm going to have the internet so see "yall" on Sunday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-4274509541330278706?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/4274509541330278706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=4274509541330278706' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4274509541330278706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4274509541330278706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-mom.html' title='My Mom'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-8666516710392091475</id><published>2008-08-10T20:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T20:47:07.902-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='letter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='list'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='airplane'/><title type='text'>Going On An Airplane</title><content type='html'>Dear anyone working with the airlines and airport,&lt;br /&gt;I am flying out tomorrow with a toddler. The past 2 times I have flown we have had some major issues with each other. Lets try to make this trip as smooth as possible. Here a few helpful tips:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Don't lose my carseat. I still haven't gotten the first carseat you lost(or money) and I'm done fighting. Please, lets not go through that again.&lt;br /&gt;2. Gage's snacks are not drugs. You don't have to test everything with your little dipstick. It is very rude to stick germy devices in something my kid is going to consume.&lt;br /&gt;3. I don't have 10 arms. I can't take our shoes off, fold up the stroller, throw my bag on the belt, and hold Gage at the same time. When I put him down he is going to run. He discovered how to walk/run only a few short months ago. Don't get annoyed at me because I'm holding the line up chasing him.&lt;br /&gt;4. Same thing goes for getting all the stuff mentioned above back on and set up. I'm traveling alone with a toddler. Chill out.&lt;br /&gt;5. If Gage 'poops' on the plane and there is a line for the coach bathroom don't have a cow if I ask to use the first class bathroom. I'm sure the 4 people sitting up there don't mind. For crying out loud, he pooped. Do you want to sit in your poop? No. Neither does he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't think of anything more for you all but I know there is more. My flights are always hellish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you,&lt;br /&gt;very frazzled mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear passengers,&lt;br /&gt;Don't roll your eyes at me if Gage is crying. He is a baby. That is what he does. I can't make him stop. He probably crying for a reason. His ears could hurt, he could be scared(you probably scared him!), or maybe he just feels like crying. Guess what? I paid the same thing you did to fly on the plane and I don't care if he is annoying you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love,&lt;br /&gt;the mom with a kid you hate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-8666516710392091475?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/8666516710392091475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=8666516710392091475' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8666516710392091475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8666516710392091475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/going-on-airplane.html' title='Going On An Airplane'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-6795608618042281261</id><published>2008-08-09T14:44:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T15:04:28.047-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Exploring For Junk</title><content type='html'>Even though I am dying from my cold I dragged myself out of bed this morning. I've been wanting to go yard saling for a few weekends now. I printed out directions to all the ones close by. I stop at Dunkin Donuts for my medium ice extra extra and 4 chocolate munchkins. Now me and Gage were ready to go cover some ground. The first set of directions led us not too far from the house. We get there and saw a trailor home with a bunch of rhode island hicks standing out front. So I said "No way in H-E-double hockey sticks are we stopping here, Gage.". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned the Boo(Malibu) around and decided I was not feeling up to yard saling anymore. I went in the direction of Wickford. I decided I wanted to go in the antique store. Yes, Gage is with me. Yes, I am crazy enough to go in an antique store with lots of old breakable things with him. It wasn't that bad. He was a very good boy. We even scored a cute little chickie mug. It was too cute to leave behind in that store. It was $3.50.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3odzY911I/AAAAAAAAAHM/f_tnbQ7IuzM/s1600-h/100_0455.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3odzY911I/AAAAAAAAAHM/f_tnbQ7IuzM/s320/100_0455.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232593940783159122"/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home from Wickford I saw a yard sale sign on the the way to my house. It was in a nice area so I figured I would be safe from trailor park hicks. I was right! It was a 2 family yard sale and I bought a few things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3pQrS7kxI/AAAAAAAAAHU/mKUb4MLiMz8/s1600-h/100_0454.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3pQrS7kxI/AAAAAAAAAHU/mKUb4MLiMz8/s320/100_0454.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232594814783689490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tommy Hilfiger purse for $2!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3pec-6cXI/AAAAAAAAAHc/iyxWlZbMun0/s1600-h/100_0456.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3pec-6cXI/AAAAAAAAAHc/iyxWlZbMun0/s320/100_0456.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232595051459801458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little glass bottles for 25 cent each!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3ptnPcbbI/AAAAAAAAAHk/flUWgWwfnbE/s1600-h/100_0457.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3ptnPcbbI/AAAAAAAAAHk/flUWgWwfnbE/s320/100_0457.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232595311911529906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last but not the least(actually it was!) Kermit the Frog(or as Gage says "Frogg-o") for free! The lady thought Gage was cute and said he could have him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm come glad I drug myself out of bed because today didn't turn out that bad. All in all I guess you can say Mama is a happy camper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-6795608618042281261?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6795608618042281261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=6795608618042281261' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6795608618042281261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6795608618042281261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/exploring-for-junk.html' title='Exploring For Junk'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJ3odzY911I/AAAAAAAAAHM/f_tnbQ7IuzM/s72-c/100_0455.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3487170157371023150</id><published>2008-08-08T13:41:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T13:44:08.212-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><title type='text'>I Jinxed Myself</title><content type='html'>The other day I was thinking to myself that no one that I know has come down with a summer cold yet. About two days later here I am thinking about how I jinxed myself because I am so miserably sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I should have knocked on some wood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3487170157371023150?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3487170157371023150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3487170157371023150' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3487170157371023150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3487170157371023150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-jinxed-myself.html' title='I Jinxed Myself'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-6262155215345465374</id><published>2008-08-07T22:13:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T22:46:10.906-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='google searches'/><title type='text'>Click on This</title><content type='html'>As any new blogger I am religious about checking my sitemeter stats. I like to know where you are all from and where you all are finding me at. Actually, I would just like to assume that all new bloggers do this and I'm not just crazy. To tell you the truth I'm not &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; a new blogger. I'm actually approaching my 10 year anniversary of blogging/journaling on the web but that is a whole another post in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight at work I was talking to Ian, who inspired me to do the &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/stink-palm-inspired-movie-list.html"&gt;movie list&lt;/a&gt;. He actually has been nicknamed "inspirational lot associate". He lives up to his name because he has yet again gave me another post to write. Not this one, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is about me checking my sitemeter stats. I really like getting the search engine searches where people type something into google or yahoo and somehow find their way here to my little spot on the web. Tonight someone typed in Queens Fort Mama. Of course, I am the first on that list because I am THE Queens Fort Mama. This is strange to me because why would someone be searching for my blog. Then I remembered that tonight while I was talking to Ian that my friend Brian was also there hanging around calling me a dork for blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After seeing the google search for my blog, I went and checked the locations that people are viewing from. There were like 5 people from RI that viewed my blog recently since the last time I checked. I am going to assume that one of them was Brian who more than likely searched me up on google. I don't mind, really. I mean I was talking about it afterall. It got me thinking though about just who from the &lt;em&gt;real world&lt;/em&gt; that I want reading my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I have come to the conclusion that I don't really care. I don't talk trash about &lt;em&gt;real life&lt;/em&gt; people on here(not yet atleast). Even if I did I've turned into the kind of person that would tell you that you are being douchebag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with that being said, Hi Brian! Welcome to my place on the web.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to keep all of you entertained for a bit more here are a few more of my searches:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CD Wallet Cute - That led them to this&lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/crafted-wallet.html"&gt;page.&lt;/a&gt; It isn't a cd wallet but I hope they felt inspired to make their own instead of buying one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rhode Island Play - This brought them to the post about the &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/providence-day.html"&gt;childrens museum&lt;/a&gt;. I hope they had fun playing in rhode island. Whatev.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maxx New York Italian Patent Triple Entry Quilted Tote - Remember when I went on and on about the &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/late-at-night-when-i-cant-sleep-or.html"&gt;Oxiclean guy?&lt;/a&gt; This has actually been searched twice. I guess its a must have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wild wild wubzy - That of course brought them to &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/gage-gone-wild.html"&gt;Gage Gone Wild&lt;/a&gt;. I hope they had a nice laugh about my porno lovin' son and figured out its called WOW WOW WUBZY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;handmade gifts- They read about my coasters to my &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/coasting-thoughts.html"&gt;friend.&lt;/a&gt; I hope they made some!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My searches aren't crazy but then again I've only had this blog for a month. Do you have any crazy searches?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-6262155215345465374?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6262155215345465374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=6262155215345465374' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6262155215345465374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6262155215345465374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/click-on-this.html' title='Click on This'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3729247364271585687</id><published>2008-08-07T11:32:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T11:55:46.255-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adam'/><title type='text'>Date Night&amp;Search It Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJsVvaX-oAI/AAAAAAAAAHE/671LO4Rz8cA/s1600-h/heart.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJsVvaX-oAI/AAAAAAAAAHE/671LO4Rz8cA/s320/heart.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231799296398893058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, me and Adam, somehow managed to slip away for a date night. I really needed some alone time. I actually need alone time just with myself but I will take what I can get. Alone time with Adam means riding in the truck. Its a two seater truck so that means little man can't ride in it. I use to think the truck was useless if we ALL couldn't use it. Now when I get in the truck I feel so happy and relaxed. I know that I won't have anyone screaming "NO" and trying to pull my hair behind me. I love truck time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our little date we made a stop at Cold Stone Creamery for some delicious ice cream. I had a little Cookie Doughn't You Want Some. I love cookie dough. I don't ever switch up my ice creams. After ice cream we made our way to the movies. We saw Pineapple Express. The theater was full of high schoolers and at first I felt out of place but then Adam reminded me that we could smoke all those kids under the table. We aren't stoners, by the way. Our bowls are collecting dust in the back of a closet somewhere. Anyway, it was a funny movie! I laughed through the whole thing. Awesome. Seth Rogen is hilarious. I love all of his movies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I leave in 4 days to go visit my mom in KY/TN. She lives in Fort Knox, KY right now. That is near Louisville, Ky. We haven't ventured out much when we visit her so we have no clue what to do for a week with 2 kids. &lt;strong&gt;If anyone has ever been there or around and has ideas on what to do? Maybe if you are bored and want to google?&lt;/strong&gt; We are going to have 2 kiddo's with us(little man(1) and my neice(3)). I think I have TN part covered considering I'm from there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3729247364271585687?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3729247364271585687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3729247364271585687' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3729247364271585687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3729247364271585687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/date-night-it-up.html' title='Date Night&amp;Search It Up'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJsVvaX-oAI/AAAAAAAAAHE/671LO4Rz8cA/s72-c/heart.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-6340820896524309525</id><published>2008-08-06T07:00:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T07:07:24.071-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='can&apos;t sleep'/><title type='text'>Gage Gone Wild</title><content type='html'>The night before we left for the Cape, Gage decided that sleeping was overrated. That meant that ol' mama here had to stay awake, too. I grabbed a book I haven't read(The Glass Castle), turned on some cartoons, made a snack for the little man, and tried to stay awake. Four hours later(1am) and he was still ready to go. Every 5 minutes or so I would peek up from my book and watch Gage watch his 'toons. During one of my non-peek times Gage snatched the remote from the table without me knowing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later I look up from my book and Gage was still watching TV. I looked at the TV expecting Wow Wow Wubzy to be on but much to my surpise it was not. Instead of Wubzy I was staring at two girls making out with nothing on. I grabbed the remote and hit guide to see what had happened. Gage had somehow ordered Girls Gone Wild for $14.99. Right then I knew that it was officially bed time for him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured one day my son would be interested in porn but not at 16 months old. He is such a character. Thank God, he had no idea what he was watching. The next morning while we are packing(We are such procrastinators) I told Adam what his son did. He started cracking up and gave Gage a high five proceeded by a "MY MAN!" congratulations. My boys seriously crack me up. I probably would have laughed more about it at the time but come on a $15 porn, little man? Couldn't you have just rented a movie for $3.95? He could have just waited and saw girls on the beach for free on the Cape.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-6340820896524309525?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6340820896524309525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=6340820896524309525' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6340820896524309525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/6340820896524309525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/gage-gone-wild.html' title='Gage Gone Wild'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3007564656003659740</id><published>2008-08-05T15:23:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T07:05:57.693-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><title type='text'>I'm Back!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJipAwErWKI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Z7DFu7XXJsM/s1600-h/100_0440.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJipAwErWKI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Z7DFu7XXJsM/s400/100_0440.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231116797560445090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cape Cod was amazing. It was a little getaway that we all needed. We mainly just relaxed on the beach with a Corona and lime. Gage, of course, had juice boxes. I got a tan! I can't even believe it. I'm still pretty white but I have visible tan lines. We did our annual putt-putt golf tournament. I came in 2nd place(Hooray for me). A great time was had by all(there was 26 of us all together!). Vacationing with a tiny tot can be tiring. So, I'm glad to be back home where I can &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJirC5Yge4I/AAAAAAAAAG8/4MP1rjHBzSE/s1600-h/100_0444.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJirC5Yge4I/AAAAAAAAAG8/4MP1rjHBzSE/s400/100_0444.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231119033442532226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3007564656003659740?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3007564656003659740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3007564656003659740' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3007564656003659740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3007564656003659740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m Back!'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJipAwErWKI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Z7DFu7XXJsM/s72-c/100_0440.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-7798580987268227188</id><published>2008-08-01T10:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T07:06:41.994-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good deeds'/><title type='text'>Update&amp;Goodbye</title><content type='html'>On Monday I wrote about a &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/parking-lot-angel.html"&gt;good deed and paying it forward&lt;/a&gt; and let me tell you I was on a mission to get it done. I payed the JoAnn Angel forward at work the very next day. Dan, an older guy, doesn't usually work nights. He was hanging in there with me, though. We were joking around about an ice coffee would be a great perk up. I secretly asked what his "drink"(we take our Dunkin Donuts serious around here)was. So finally my break rolled around and I walked my lazy butt all the way to Dunkin Donuts(its in the same parking lot as work) and bought Dan his French Vanilla Ice Coffee with 1 cream and 1 sweet n low. I ,of course, got my regular ice coffee extra extra. Dan was so surprised! He loved it and about 10 minutes later his drink was gone and he was no longer going to pass out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Tuesday I wrote about giving my friend a set of &lt;a href="http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/coasting-thoughts.html"&gt;coasters&lt;/a&gt; I made her for her bridal shower. Well, I decided to go ahead and give them to her. I also decided to show her what I wrote in my bliggity blog(that little paragraph about the beach). A thousand hugs later and a few tears I think it was safe to say she loved the coasters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the goodbye part of this entry. The fam is going on a trip this weekend. Our destination is Cape Cod. Adam's family goes every year. Last year was my first year going and I had a blast. I'm looking forward to leaving. I won't be back until Tuesday. So don't post too much and don't forget about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to leave you all with a few pictures from last years Cape Cod mini vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJMf8jfws-I/AAAAAAAAAGk/7NLjUX-5E2Q/s1600-h/000_0290.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJMf8jfws-I/AAAAAAAAAGk/7NLjUX-5E2Q/s400/000_0290.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229558717488346082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJMgLkwveyI/AAAAAAAAAGs/ZLAGvLPLrKs/s1600-h/capcodblend.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJMgLkwveyI/AAAAAAAAAGs/ZLAGvLPLrKs/s400/capcodblend.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229558975526042402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-7798580987268227188?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7798580987268227188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=7798580987268227188' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7798580987268227188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7798580987268227188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/08/update.html' title='Update&amp;Goodbye'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SJMf8jfws-I/AAAAAAAAAGk/7NLjUX-5E2Q/s72-c/000_0290.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-182277630755469437</id><published>2008-07-30T22:07:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T11:25:12.939-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='top 10'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='list'/><title type='text'>Happy Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Think of all the beauty that's still left in and around you, and be happy." &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Anne Frank&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A list of things that make my heart happy; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Cuddling with Gage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Hearing Gage laugh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Being in the arms of Adam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Crawling into a bed with freshly washed sheets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;A piece of cheesecake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Being able to turn on a song and know all the words&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Losing myself in a book&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Daisies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Sitting by a firepit with my friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Completing a crafty project&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;This list could be doubled, maybe even tripled, in no time. I like lists of 10, though. So, that is what you all will usually get out of me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Speaking of Gage laughing I stumbled upon a video of one of the first time he laughed. I wanted to show my mom and other friends from back home. Please, ignore my messy house and my really annoying baby talk voice!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ducul9db4Zo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ducul9db4Zo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love watching this video. I remember this like it was yesterday. Now my little man isn't so little anymore. He is almost 16 months. Before I know he is going to be a big boy doing all kinds of big boy stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-182277630755469437?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/182277630755469437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=182277630755469437' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/182277630755469437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/182277630755469437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-thoughts.html' title='Happy Thoughts'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-7770025266006920153</id><published>2008-07-30T00:00:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T07:34:09.603-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Celeb'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='can&apos;t sleep'/><title type='text'>Sleeping Is Much Better</title><content type='html'>7:32am - I am watching Fox N Friends and can you believe what commercial comes on? Stop yelling at me, OxiClean man. Its 7:30 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------&lt;br /&gt;Late at night when I can't sleep or sometimes even in the middle of the day, I hear Billy Mays in the background. If that name doesn't mean anything to you then you might also know him by the Oxi Clean Guy, Kaboom Guy, or Orange Glow Guy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI_lFGtCiwI/AAAAAAAAAEU/zBeuH990eII/s1600-h/billy_mays_172x165.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI_lFGtCiwI/AAAAAAAAAEU/zBeuH990eII/s400/billy_mays_172x165.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228649568262064898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is the annoying bearded fellow on television YELLING at us to buy those products. Like I said usually when I hear this guy its 1am and there is no need for this yahoo to be yelling at me. Not only has he been yelling at me for years but I think he yelling even louder NOW! He doesn't need to yell at all. I can hear just fine, thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He needs to take a lesson from Vince over at shamwow!, another annoying infomercial. Atleast Vince doesn't yell! He does ,however, wear a headset. I don't get it. Can you not get a microphone in your shirt? This joker reminds me of someone running up to you in the mall to see the demonstration. I didn't want to see it in the mall and I really don't want to see it on my TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI_lPey7MxI/AAAAAAAAAEc/qtirUnI8Zjk/s1600-h/shamwow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI_lPey7MxI/AAAAAAAAAEc/qtirUnI8Zjk/s400/shamwow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228649746527892242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I'm on the subject here is a little note on two more infomercials why in the world would they put Turbo Jam and Power 90 on at 2am or so in the morning. I think exercising is the last thing I want to be doing at that hour. Actually, I don't even want to be thinking about exercising then. Shopping, maybe, but if I really have the urge to shop at 2am I will go to QVC and buy the Special Value of the day(which happens to be &lt;a href="http://www.qvc.com/qic/qvcapp.aspx/app.detail/params.item.tsv!.tpl.tsv.CM_SCID.TSV?cm_re=LN-_-TODAYSFEATURES-_-TSV"&gt;a Maxx New York Italian Patent Triple Entry Quilted Tote&lt;/a&gt; if you were wondering.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-7770025266006920153?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7770025266006920153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=7770025266006920153' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7770025266006920153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7770025266006920153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/late-at-night-when-i-cant-sleep-or.html' title='Sleeping Is Much Better'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI_lFGtCiwI/AAAAAAAAAEU/zBeuH990eII/s72-c/billy_mays_172x165.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-7882304296087216369</id><published>2008-07-29T11:48:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T13:04:08.764-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Martini Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ineedamartini.blogspot.com/"&gt;Molly&lt;/a&gt; is having a &lt;a href="http://ineedamartini.blogspot.com/2008/07/martini-madness-competition.html"&gt;martini contest&lt;/a&gt;. Go check her out&amp;enter! Prizes were donated by Jerry at &lt;a href="http://www.martiniart.com/"&gt;martiniart.com&lt;/a&gt; and by &lt;a href="http://burgscrazyblog.blogspot.com/"&gt;Burg Designs&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI9NJUbRObI/AAAAAAAAAEM/v9zeyH34f-Q/s1600-h/partyinvite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI9NJUbRObI/AAAAAAAAAEM/v9zeyH34f-Q/s400/partyinvite.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228482514897680818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a special martini I am throwing. It is my devirginizing martini party! That is right, folks. I have never had a martini and its time that I popped that cherry! To celebrate this event the right way the party will be held in the Galapagos Islands. Why the Galapagos Islands? Because I have been training the island penguins to make and serve the martinis! Thank you, penguins, for your kind service. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is invited? Well, the guest lists goes a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;Me(of course! Its my party!)&lt;br /&gt;Jacoby Ellsbury from the Red Sox.(He is all mine, baby. I don't see a ring on my finger)&lt;br /&gt;Molly(who could have a martini party and not invite her?)&lt;br /&gt;A guest of Molly's choosing.&lt;br /&gt;Jerry from &lt;a href="martiniart.com"&gt;martiniart.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guest of Jerry's choosing.&lt;br /&gt;My mom (I miss her and can't have a party without her!)&lt;br /&gt;My dad(We are going to have to tell the President that his duty in Iraq is over. Hey, I'm havin' a party!)&lt;br /&gt;My favorite bloggers - &lt;a href="http://allieparkersthoughts.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Pink Potpourri&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://wanderingdc.blogspot.com/"&gt;Megan at Wandering DC&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://teachinfourth.blogspot.com/"&gt;the Teach&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jacoby Ellsbury, my date, is paying for the whole ordeal. He also is flying us over in a private jet where we would start sipping on our POMEGRANATE MARTINIS(Its the flavor of the year). Once we arrived, it will be time to get to business on drinking our pomegranate martinis. We all would have a blast drinking our martinis watching the sunset and then watching the sunrise. Perfecto party!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-7882304296087216369?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7882304296087216369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=7882304296087216369' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7882304296087216369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7882304296087216369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/martini-party.html' title='Martini Party'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI9NJUbRObI/AAAAAAAAAEM/v9zeyH34f-Q/s72-c/partyinvite.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3629235873160195209</id><published>2008-07-29T00:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T00:15:31.354-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Coasting Thoughts</title><content type='html'>I always wonder if people actually like my handmade gifts that they recieve. I was always taught that handmade gifts are the gifts that come from the heart. My mom was a crafty person and was always making something while I was growing up. I loved it and would love anything anyone ever gave me that was crafted from their own hands. I wish I knew if other people felt the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight(yesterday, actually)I looked up my friends wedding registry. Her shower is this weekend but I didn't plan to get her anything off the registry. I had a few special gifts in mind. One being a gift that I made and the other a kitchen appliance that will come in handy in our many pizza making adventures. While browsing the sites I came across my gift that I made her. My heart instantly sank. Of course, it isn't the SAME thing but its the same item. She picked out a lovely set of coasters, which someone has already bought her. She picked the coasters out. She likes them. She wants them otherwise they wouldn't be on her registry. If you haven't figured it out I made her a set of coasters myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want her to understand why I made the coasters. They really remind me of her. When I think of her personality it reminds me of a beach. If she could live and spend all day at the beach I know that she would. She is even getting married on the beach. I love her to death. So to show just that I wanted to make her something beautiful just like the gal she is. As soon as I saw blue/green glistening half marbles I knew it said her. I didn't even have to think twice about it. After that I walked over to the grout and picked a color that looks like sand from a beach. The grout is actually called Macadamia but it should be renamed to Sandy Beaches. I think they came out beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put thought, time, heart, and soul into making them. I don't want them to get stashed in the back of a closet. I want glasses to be sat upon them. I want them to have life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm up against:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bedbathandbeyond.com/assets/product_images/230/2721913072582P.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.bedbathandbeyond.com/assets/product_images/230/2721913072582P.JPG" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I made:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI6YewIUCTI/AAAAAAAAAD8/6AidTJn5_VE/s1600-h/100_0425.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI6YewIUCTI/AAAAAAAAAD8/6AidTJn5_VE/s320/100_0425.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228283871506991410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI6YrXMHVlI/AAAAAAAAAEE/pZ9gE9LLt1g/s1600-h/100_0427.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI6YrXMHVlI/AAAAAAAAAEE/pZ9gE9LLt1g/s320/100_0427.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228284088150349394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I stand a chance?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3629235873160195209?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3629235873160195209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3629235873160195209' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3629235873160195209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3629235873160195209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/coasting-thoughts.html' title='Coasting Thoughts'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SI6YewIUCTI/AAAAAAAAAD8/6AidTJn5_VE/s72-c/100_0425.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-389885574173446086</id><published>2008-07-28T00:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T00:22:23.785-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good deeds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rainstorm'/><title type='text'>Pay It Forward</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, in between storms, me and the little man ventured out. We had to make a stop at JoAnns, the craft store, to pick up supplies for a wedding gift I'm making. After I bought what I needed we stepped outside into the pouring rain. I just stood there with the cart underneath the overhang for a moment deciding the best way to go about getting everything and everyone to the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that there was no cart return area in the parking lot so I didn't want to drag the cart out there. I hate when people do that. My car is always the car that gets hit. I knew without the cart, though, I would have a lot to carry. Mind you, I have had fuller hands before. I would have only been carrying my purse, 2 bags, and Gage. Right before I decided my course of action a very nice older lady(Everyone's older than me.She really wasn't that old) offered to walk us to my car under her umbrella. Not only did she offer to walk us under her umbrella but she said she would return my cart but in the end I decided to ditch the cart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did for a brief second think about how she could kidnap us and eat us for dinner all week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I have a lot of faith in people. I think people are generally good. Some people think this is a bad quality to have. I'm just not overly paranoid about things like this. After I decided that she wasn't a psycho, she walked us to our car. She even stood there while I found my keys in the Black Hole AKA my purse. While I was strapping Gage into his carseat, I looked back and saw that she was parked 2 lanes over way in the back of the lot. She went completely out of her way to shelter us from the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran into an Angel in the parking lot of JoAnns. What a freaking nice lady. I'm telling you I haven't been this touched in a long time. I felt very inspired by it all and now its my mission to pay it forward. I don't know who and I don't know how but I'm going to. So watch out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*I'm also going to start carrying an umbrella in my car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;**I'm also going to organize the Black Hole.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-389885574173446086?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/389885574173446086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=389885574173446086' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/389885574173446086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/389885574173446086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/parking-lot-angel.html' title='Pay It Forward'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3991758709805380340</id><published>2008-07-25T08:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T08:10:50.036-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='top 10'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='list'/><title type='text'>Stink Palm Inspired Movie List</title><content type='html'>At work I sit in a room all by myself. It is really boring but all the cool people stop in to visit throughout the night. Last night one of those cool cats, Ian, came in with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. This instantly reminded me of a scene from the movie Mallrats. From this moment on I realized Ian wasn't as cool as originally thought. He haasn't seen Mallrats and couldn't join me in my fit of giggles about the Stink Palm. To make matters worse not only has he never seen it but he hasn't even heard of the movie. Can this even be possible? Well, obviously it is. Thanks, Ian. It shouldn't be, though! I think it should be against the law not have seen "classic" movies like Mallrats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this, of course, got me thinking about other movies that should be against the law if you haven't seen them. After this thought I sat down and tried to come up with a list of movies. My list kept growing and growing. It was about grow legs and run away! I had a lot of movies. I decided that I needed to narrow it down to about 10 movies. After some suggestions from more cool people that dropped by I came up with a very rough list of 10. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top 10 Movies I'd Be Shocked If You Haven't Seen&lt;br /&gt;-Star Wars&lt;br /&gt;-Lord Of The Rings&lt;br /&gt;-Forrest Gump&lt;br /&gt;-Titanic&lt;br /&gt;-The Breakfast Club&lt;br /&gt;-Top Gun&lt;br /&gt;-Pretty Woman&lt;br /&gt;-Groundhog Day&lt;br /&gt;-The Shining&lt;br /&gt;-The Shawshank Redemption&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there is my list. I'm 100% happy about it but it will have to work because I am about to go take a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are some movies that would make your top 10? I'm not talking about what your favorite movies are(My favorite movie is Matilda!) but movies you would be shocked if someone you knew said they have never seen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3991758709805380340?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3991758709805380340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3991758709805380340' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3991758709805380340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3991758709805380340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/stink-palm-inspired-movie-list.html' title='Stink Palm Inspired Movie List'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1622902402216243648</id><published>2008-07-24T08:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T15:42:10.652-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adam'/><title type='text'>The Dark Side</title><content type='html'>A conversation between a tomato hater(thats me!) and her ex side kick(thats Adam!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adam: I stopped at Panera Bread. I had the best sandwich ever.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh yeah, what kind?&lt;br /&gt;Adam: Chipotle Chicken.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Neato.&lt;br /&gt;[long pause]&lt;br /&gt;Adam: I even left the tomatoes on.&lt;br /&gt;Me: No!&lt;br /&gt;Me: You are crossing over to the dark side!&lt;br /&gt;Adam: Well, it did come with three! I took one off!&lt;br /&gt;Me: I can't believe you.&lt;br /&gt;Adam: I was really hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, taking one off made the situation better. I don't think so, buddy. You are a traitor in my book. Adam has always been my faithful tomato hating partner. When we go places we both chant happily "No tomatoes, please!". When restaurants mess up and put tomatoes on our tomato free food, we were both there for each other and understood. When we would forget to ask to leave them off we both knew the other person would have our back. At family get togethers everyone knows to make things without tomatoes because we hate them. I feel like I'm being abandoned. I don't want him to crossover. I will be alone in my tomato hating world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who will be my side kick now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1622902402216243648?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1622902402216243648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1622902402216243648' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1622902402216243648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1622902402216243648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/dark-side.html' title='The Dark Side'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-5951876046503859817</id><published>2008-07-23T15:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T23:58:23.962-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Worldless Wednesday'/><title type='text'>So Fresh&amp;So Clean Clean</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SIf9zrGzksI/AAAAAAAAAD0/_hTg9bmzsE4/s1600-h/newtowelgage2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SIf9zrGzksI/AAAAAAAAAD0/_hTg9bmzsE4/s400/newtowelgage2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226424956773176002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-5951876046503859817?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5951876046503859817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=5951876046503859817' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5951876046503859817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5951876046503859817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/so-fresh-clean-clean.html' title='So Fresh&amp;So Clean Clean'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SIf9zrGzksI/AAAAAAAAAD0/_hTg9bmzsE4/s72-c/newtowelgage2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-2786123118869312755</id><published>2008-07-22T15:15:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T15:44:24.056-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Celeb'/><title type='text'>Thank you for being a friend</title><content type='html'>I opened up my internet browser a few minutes ago and staring back at me was Sophia from Golden Girls. Sophia(Estelle Getty) passed away this morning. She was 84 years old. My heart is broken. I've watched&amp;amp;love the Golden Girls(thanks, Dad!) for as long as I can remember. To me the Girls are never suppose to die and in a way they won't. I just have to get my hands on a box set. Anyway, Sophia was my favorite girl. I could always count on her for a good laugh. For that I will be forever grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://l.yimg.com/a/i/ww/news/2008/07/22/estellegetty-full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://l.yimg.com/a/i/ww/news/2008/07/22/estellegetty-full.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rest in peace, Estelle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here are some of my favorite Sophia quotes:&lt;br /&gt;"There's just something I don't like about him. I can't put my finger on it, but if I did, I would have to wash it." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sophia: And don't forget the accident you had in that car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stan: What accident?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sophia: I'll give you a hint: it costs me ten bucks every Christmas, and still calls me grandma."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dorothy: Ma, where have you been?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sophia: I always believe that when you're in a hospital, you should go around and cheer the other patients up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dorothy: Oh Ma, that's so nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sophia: Yeah, so I went upstairs to Geriatrics and sang 'Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better'."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Adam just came home from work and the first thing I said to him(in a sad voice because I am sad) was "Guess who died today?" and he looked at my all concerned "Who?" and I said "Sophia from the Golden Girls". He paused for a second and said "Shit, Megan, you scared me. I thought it was someone we knew"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't think he appreciates the Girls like I do.&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/2744213592875675958-2786123118869312755?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2786123118869312755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=2786123118869312755' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2786123118869312755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/2786123118869312755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/thank-you-for-being-friend.html' title='Thank you for being a friend'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-8982461054024238830</id><published>2008-07-21T11:09:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T22:42:58.521-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><title type='text'>Crafted Wallet</title><content type='html'>Something horrible happened to me last week. I lost my wallet. It could possibly be a persons worst day-to-day life nightmare. Of course, it isn't mine because I didn't know it was missing for atleast a week. Actually, to tell you the truth I have no idea when the last time I even used anything inside my wallet so I have really no clue when I lost the damn thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who doesn't use their wallet you must be wondering? I don't. I rarely have any money in my own bank account so no debit card needed nearly as much as you probably use yours. If I don't have money in my account then I surely don't have any cash on me and if I do it just gets randomly thrown in my purse.For some reason my drivers license was just tossed in my purse too. (Can you tell I'm an organized person?) Anyway, I have quite a bit in there but I never use it. I can't tell you when I had it last or where I had it last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So instead of searching aimlessly for my could-be-anywhere wallet I just went ahead and ordered replacements for everything that I could remember was in there. Last night while sitting around watching the worst movie in history, Strange Wilderness, it dawned on me that I don't have a wallet for all my shiny new cards that should be arriving this week. So during the dumb movie, which I rented for $3.95, I made me a new kick ass wallet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SISnHYBHUfI/AAAAAAAAACk/s49sHJDF69w/s1600-h/100_0413.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225485212804665842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SISnHYBHUfI/AAAAAAAAACk/s49sHJDF69w/s320/100_0413.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SISnRPcJviI/AAAAAAAAACs/ll3KYtTkh2Q/s1600-h/100_0415.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225485382300843554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SISnRPcJviI/AAAAAAAAACs/ll3KYtTkh2Q/s320/100_0415.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SISnZEoTr0I/AAAAAAAAAC0/91EX9qFt6Dk/s1600-h/100_0414.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225485516837990210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SISnZEoTr0I/AAAAAAAAAC0/91EX9qFt6Dk/s320/100_0414.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-8982461054024238830?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/8982461054024238830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=8982461054024238830' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8982461054024238830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8982461054024238830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/crafted-wallet.html' title='Crafted Wallet'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SISnHYBHUfI/AAAAAAAAACk/s49sHJDF69w/s72-c/100_0413.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-5351345143057658001</id><published>2008-07-19T08:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T01:35:44.627-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='RI'/><title type='text'>Kill Me Now</title><content type='html'>It is suppose to be HOT today. If you are in Rhode Island and it is hot, where do you go? The beach. That sounds fun, right? Wrong. Rhode Island is a tiny state with a billion people crammed in it. When it is hot EVERYONE goes to the beach. On top of being swarmed with people at the beach, Gage really likes to throw sand in his eyes. Everytime we go its traumatic. I say I am never going back but I do. I always go back. Besides the people and Gage's sand throwing there is beach traffic. I wouldn't be caught dead going South toward the beaches today unless you want to wait in hour long traffic to and from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, kill me now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-5351345143057658001?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5351345143057658001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=5351345143057658001' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5351345143057658001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5351345143057658001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/kill-me-now.html' title='Kill Me Now'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-5593749855876927427</id><published>2008-07-17T09:57:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T12:29:50.158-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hizouse'/><title type='text'>Tree Down</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Last night we went over to friends house to eat dinner&amp;amp;have some drinks. Around 11pm we called it a night. We packed the little man up who was sleeping in his pack-n-play. The friends happen to live in the same neighborhood as we do and as we were approaching the beginning of the 'hood ,where we live, we drove straight into the flashing lights of the State Police. We pulled into our driveway and Adam walked over to see what was up. I, of course, followed because I am way too nosey not to know whats going on. Much to our amazement we found(or rather the State Police) found a tree had fallen into the road. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH9xXNHjJDI/AAAAAAAAACU/mfNhsynK6_s/s1600-h/100_0412.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224018736245318706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH9xXNHjJDI/AAAAAAAAACU/mfNhsynK6_s/s320/100_0412.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;See the rock wall? Tree not ours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;So here it is 11pm and we have a fallen tree. Technically, the tree is NOT on our property. Our property stops at a rock wall. The tree was on the other side of the rock wall, which the town owns. Of course, when something bad happens(like a tree down at 11pm) the town says its our property and our problem. But when the town wants to do something to the side of the road then its their property. So instead of going through all that Adam took out an ax and started axing away at it. Some cool kids drove by and stopped to help move bigger pieces. I was just standing there with little man&amp;amp;the dog. Anyway, about 30 minutes later there was nothing touching the road and we called it a night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note I went and changed my blog name&amp;amp;url. No reason other than I rushed to think of a name while making it and I like this name better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is Queens Fort? "The Queen’s Fort is located deep in the woods in Exeter RI and has for many years been viewed as part of the Narragansett stone fort system and associated with the King Philip Wars." In other words, Indians hid back there when they were gettin' their land taken away by us. I live across the street from it. It's really neat to take a hike back there and carve your name in a tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH9x6iuoD2I/AAAAAAAAACc/snXEdnL5yVc/s1600-h/100_0411.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224019343341784930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH9x6iuoD2I/AAAAAAAAACc/snXEdnL5yVc/s320/100_0411.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Queens Fort is back there!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-5593749855876927427?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5593749855876927427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=5593749855876927427' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5593749855876927427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/5593749855876927427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/tree-down.html' title='Tree Down'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH9xXNHjJDI/AAAAAAAAACU/mfNhsynK6_s/s72-c/100_0412.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-8018427682546373519</id><published>2008-07-15T16:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T16:48:39.116-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gage'/><title type='text'>Providence Day</title><content type='html'>Gage and I were bored at home this morning and decided that sitting around just wouldn't do. We called up Erin&amp;Tyler. They too had no idea what to do with the day. Finally we decided to check out &lt;a href="http://www.childrenmuseum.org/"&gt;Providence Childrens Museum&lt;/a&gt;. On the way there we stopped and got our coffees(We can't ever go anywhere without!) and munchkins for the boys. Gage fell asleep in the car with a whole munchkin in his mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0Kz5bRsBI/AAAAAAAAABA/eInNPoJrFmo/s1600-h/100_0376.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0Kz5bRsBI/AAAAAAAAABA/eInNPoJrFmo/s200/100_0376.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223343029524475922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was too cute to not take a picture :) Anyway, we arrived to let the boys run wild for the afternoon. First stop was to brush our teeth! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0LlBkwZxI/AAAAAAAAABQ/68YnG6N73F4/s1600-h/100_0380.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0LlBkwZxI/AAAAAAAAABQ/68YnG6N73F4/s200/100_0380.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223343873525311250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I know I am a dork!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next the boys at a blast in the water area wearing their smocks!I really have not seen anything cuter in my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0MNBPA2mI/AAAAAAAAABY/bJ4Iz6bUMG8/s1600-h/100_0383.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0MNBPA2mI/AAAAAAAAABY/bJ4Iz6bUMG8/s200/100_0383.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223344560628882018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then ventured to the trucks. Gage did not want to get off this thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0Mwu41lvI/AAAAAAAAABg/M0jNBGTm-Ww/s1600-h/100_0388.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0Mwu41lvI/AAAAAAAAABg/M0jNBGTm-Ww/s200/100_0388.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223345174179321586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many hours&amp;pictures later we were all worn out! It was a fun day, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-8018427682546373519?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/8018427682546373519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=8018427682546373519' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8018427682546373519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/8018427682546373519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/providence-day.html' title='Providence Day'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/SH0Kz5bRsBI/AAAAAAAAABA/eInNPoJrFmo/s72-c/100_0376.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3980231078702006946</id><published>2008-07-15T09:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T09:19:31.124-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='headsortail'/><title type='text'>Heads Or Tail: Joke</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://picayune.uclick.com/comics/ch/2008/ch080715.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://picayune.uclick.com/comics/ch/2008/ch080715.gif" border="0" alt=""/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I am in the need for a good laugh Calvin&amp;Hobbes never fail me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://headsortailshome.blogspot.com/"&gt;headsortails&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3980231078702006946?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3980231078702006946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3980231078702006946' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3980231078702006946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3980231078702006946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/heads-or-tail-joke.html' title='Heads Or Tail: Joke'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-7420407941144459208</id><published>2008-07-14T11:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T11:16:17.236-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='postsecret'/><title type='text'>Post Secret</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SHl39Gj0YtI/AAAAAAAAFdU/7HOFHiIo7wQ/s400/57.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SHl39Gj0YtI/AAAAAAAAFdU/7HOFHiIo7wQ/s400/57.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This secret from &lt;a href="http://postsecret.blogspot.com/"&gt;postsecret&lt;/a&gt; is exactly on the money for me. Adam laughs at me. Have you ever seen the movie The Brave Little Toaster? Things come alive in that movie like lamps, rugs, and whatevers. I don't want some dented can or left over banana coming alive and feeling sad. Hah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love reading the secrets on there. Some are just hilarious, others are just really sad, and then there are the ones that actually hit home with you. This week there is actually a secret on there that I wish I had the guts to even put on this blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-7420407941144459208?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7420407941144459208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=7420407941144459208' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7420407941144459208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/7420407941144459208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/post-secret.html' title='Post Secret'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SHl39Gj0YtI/AAAAAAAAFdU/7HOFHiIo7wQ/s72-c/57.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-3261435341370995584</id><published>2008-07-12T08:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T15:41:17.520-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Adam'/><title type='text'>Better Together</title><content type='html'>"Its always better when we're together&lt;br /&gt;Look at the stars when we're together" - Jack Johnson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was amazing. We put the little man to bed around 8pm. We had a nice bucket full of ice with our drinks in it. The tiki torches were blazing. The firewood was cut. The chairs were close together. Last but not least the chimnea was lit. We sat out there for hours just listening to my ipod, drinking, and talking about everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-3261435341370995584?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3261435341370995584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=3261435341370995584' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3261435341370995584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/3261435341370995584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/better-together.html' title='Better Together'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-4600913742890849028</id><published>2008-07-10T10:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T10:12:19.086-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Prettyness'/><title type='text'>Makeover Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Yesterday when Adam came home from work I headed off baby-free to get my hair did. I was just going in for a trim but I came out with much shorter hair and a few highlights. I was in a good mood so I continued my trip to the nail shop to get my nails did. A french manicure, a new hair style&amp;amp;three hours later I finally headed back home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;A funny story worth mentioning is what happened to me at the nail salon place. My phone was ringing and I bent down to my purse, which was sitting on the floor, to pull out my phone. The nail lady freaked out and went in my purse for me and pulled out my phone, opened it, and held it up to my ear so I could talk. She put it back in my purse, pulled out my keys, and asked if I was paying with the money that was just sitting in there. I said yes and she took it out of my purse. I think its just very strange. A women's purse is sacred. I don't anyone that would just rummage through my purse if they knew something was in there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I think the nail lady is just pretty hardcore about not messing up the nails. Nothing wrong with that though :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have to admit it was much needed time to myself. Being a mom is such a balancing act. You need your time away but you don't want too much time away. Even if you did take too much time away someone might say something and make you feel horrible. If you don't take any time yourself then you get criticized that you are trying to be super mom. Its a hard world us moms live in. No mom is right&amp;amp;No mom is ever wrong. We just manage to beat each other up. I don't really want to get into the subject of the whole mommy wars. We will leave that for another day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Speaking of children, my little man is still sleeping. Can you believe that? Its 10:30 in the morning! Gage did have a late night last night. He didn't go to bed until about 10:30pm. He use to be such an early bird(I'm talking like last week). This whole week so far he has gotten up fairly late in the morning. 9am, 8am, 7am, and then today --Oops I think I spoke too soon. I hear him crying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-4600913742890849028?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/4600913742890849028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=4600913742890849028' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4600913742890849028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/4600913742890849028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/makeover-day.html' title='Makeover Day'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2744213592875675958.post-1089422006582177633</id><published>2008-07-07T13:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T10:13:28.037-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Celeb'/><title type='text'>Put Your Back Into It</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I was googling hairstyles earlier because I have a wedding to go to on Saturday. I need something cute to do. Anyway, I came across the 2008 Oscar pictures of Miley Cyrus aka Hannah Montana. The picture just made me go WTF because she just had a scandelous photoshoot of her back showing and what not. In the Oscar picture she is posing with her back showing. It makes me wonder if this girl has some kind of back fetish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mylifetime.com/files/imagecache/photo_gallery_featured/files/images/MileyCyrus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.mylifetime.com/files/imagecache/photo_gallery_featured/files/images/MileyCyrus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, Adam&amp;amp;I are going to hang out with some friends that we haven't seen since about June 2006. They are traveling across country and making a stop in Rhody. Adam was friends with Pete because they were in the same Army unit. I was friends with Holli because we were in the same myspace group in town. I went to a party Holli invited me to and thats where I met Adam &lt;3&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2744213592875675958-1089422006582177633?l=queensfortmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/feeds/1089422006582177633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2744213592875675958&amp;postID=1089422006582177633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1089422006582177633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2744213592875675958/posts/default/1089422006582177633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://queensfortmama.blogspot.com/2008/07/put-your-back-into-it.html' title='Put Your Back Into It'/><author><name>Meg</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13916857162248973890</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qJZdYQIpwDA/TLIyBD4cr5I/AAAAAAAAAnk/xBMGGQoINlw/S220/typewriter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
