<?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-4474390151501814650</id><updated>2011-11-27T17:14:11.218-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy Needs Her Coffee</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-7287158217126866555</id><published>2009-11-14T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T13:04:54.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From My Computer</title><content type='html'>Yesterday my father got my computer fixed. Upon booting it up after being without it for a year, I found this among my documents. It's a little different then my usual posts but I wanted to include it on here anyway. Hopefully it means as much to you as it did to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A key is a secret used to open a blocked passage or treasure.   A blocked passage or treasure is sealed to either protect a secret or to dissuade others from approaching and entering.  Some passages are blocked forever where others can be opened by anything.  The most well protected secret is the secret to an individual’s soul.  Only God possesses a key to everybody’s soul.  What I believe love to be concerns this idea regarding a key and a locked soul.  When love exists, God, in his infinite wisdom has opened the door to someone’s soul, for only God can arrange for such a gift to be bestowed upon us, the gift of love, but God allows us to decide if this love is something we want to keep.  In other words, it is up to the soul possessor to allow others into their secret passage.    Sometimes the wrong people are allowed  into this sacred area…these people don’t see how sacred and important the secret really is and thus they disrespect it.  When this happens it is up to the host to escort these undeserving individuals out the door.  Once they have been removed from the secret place it is up to soul possessor to either lock the door tight and try to clean up the mess or he/she can ask others, that are always invited in, to help clean up the mess.  Sometimes it is better to clean up alone and other times it is imperative to accept the help offered by others.    Thus, God opens the door to love and it is up to individual soul possessors to determine if that love stays or leaves.  That is love.  True love is a little different.  True love involves a soul possessor and a soul key.  Every soul is a key maker.  The soul has the ability to create a soul key.  It takes a lot of time to shape and mold this key and individuals generally do not know when their keys are made because soul keys cannot be sensed, they can only be used.  The soul key is unique because although individuals create them, only the keys know when they have met their key holes.  Another thing that is unique about soul keys are in order for them to work, another soul key has to be present in order for it to unlock the passageway to an individual’s most sacred treasure, he/she’s undying love.   The other key is possessed by another individual and only the correct match will allow for the passageway to be unlocked.   Finally, both keys need to turn at the same time in order for true love to be unlocked.  Once it is unlocked these possessors of soul keys enter into a different world.  Hand in hand they walk together, without any fear or hesitation, into the land of True Love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-7287158217126866555?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/7287158217126866555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/11/from-my-computer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7287158217126866555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7287158217126866555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/11/from-my-computer.html' title='From My Computer'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-7995064630974840141</id><published>2009-11-03T13:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T14:05:39.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dichotomy of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/SvCpK67Q7yI/AAAAAAAAACw/nGQ1Bu0lZG0/s1600-h/925310660_9b58dc6f24.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/SvCpK67Q7yI/AAAAAAAAACw/nGQ1Bu0lZG0/s200/925310660_9b58dc6f24.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400001958298840866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, once again, have been away for too long. Almost every day I think of some new thing that I want to think through, which I do by writing, but I don't make the time to do it. As a result, I think I've been more stressed then usual, which in turn makes me not write, and the vicious cycle continues. Since I don't need anymore stress in my life, while Sophia is napping I'm going to be writing. One of the biggest things that has been stressing me out is trying to find balance. Up until Sophia was born I thought I was a decent wife. I was fun, flirty, and relatively carefree. While I'm not very tidy I am a good cook, and since I married an Italian I figured that was more important anyway. Well, just as I was figuring all of this married stuff out, Sophia arrived. It has been three months now since she was born and I finally feel that I have this parenting thing down, at least for this stage. I know what her cries mean, and when she needs to nap, and how to make her smile and giggle with the utmost glee. The only problem I have now is how to combine these two roles together. To keep Sophia happy she needs to be the focus of my attention, but to keep my husband happy he needs my attention too. For the past few months he has been on cruise control. While this is a useful function to have and occasionally employ, it's not a good permanent state to be in. This last week we've decided to try to plan a date night every other week. It can be coffee, dinner, or even watching a movie at our place; anything as long as it's just the two of us. Soph has made me love David more but has given me less time time to love him with; an interesting dichotomy only people with children truly know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-7995064630974840141?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/7995064630974840141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/11/dichotomy-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7995064630974840141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7995064630974840141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/11/dichotomy-of-love.html' title='The Dichotomy of Love'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/SvCpK67Q7yI/AAAAAAAAACw/nGQ1Bu0lZG0/s72-c/925310660_9b58dc6f24.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-3321451886424345100</id><published>2009-10-25T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T18:44:42.454-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Baby Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/SuT-nzdjT3I/AAAAAAAAACg/bmvIinR3cBo/s1600-h/DSC04752.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 151px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/SuT-nzdjT3I/AAAAAAAAACg/bmvIinR3cBo/s200/DSC04752.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396718213279207282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started packing up Sophia's old baby clothes today. At 3 months she's in her 6-9 month clothes and I can't believe how much she has grown. I also can't believe what David and I have found ourselves talking about this last week...having another baby! A month or so ago the idea petrified me. I was tired, weary, depressed and fat. (Being an overweight exhausted mother of a newborn is a great form of birth control.) Then, miracle of miracles, Sophia started sleeping through the night. Once she reached 2 months she started her AMAZING routine of going to bed around 5:30-6 and waking up around that same time in the morning with David and I. It's crazy how sleep can revolutionize your whole outlook on life! Suddenly being a mom wasn't all sleepless nights and self-sacrifice, it was, and is, a lot of fun! While I'm not ready to have another baby yet, I still have 20 lbs to lose 'till I'm back to my goal weight, I'm looking forward to when we get to again. Liz, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;mass producing&lt;/span&gt; older sister, and I are thinking of alternating years. Her first was October 2008, mine was July 2009, her next one will be May 2010 so that puts ours somewhere around June 2011. We'll see how parenting Sophia and life ends up panning out=)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-3321451886424345100?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/3321451886424345100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/baby-baby-baby.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/3321451886424345100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/3321451886424345100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/baby-baby-baby.html' title='Baby Baby Baby'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/SuT-nzdjT3I/AAAAAAAAACg/bmvIinR3cBo/s72-c/DSC04752.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-1341998957664795488</id><published>2009-10-21T06:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T07:08:48.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/St8TCWxvrbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/rKveZQn0hnY/s1600-h/DSC04859.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/St8TCWxvrbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/rKveZQn0hnY/s200/DSC04859.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395051809808035250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the last week I've had a writing assignment looming over my head that has kept me away. Between taking care of Sophia and my husband, and trying to write another article, on Starbucks=), I've had little time to write anything for fun. With my daughter asleep and the other piece done I finally have a free minute. Sophia discovered her feet yesterday! She wanted nothing more than to play with them all day long and so that's what she and I did. It's amazing to watch her grow and develop and discover new things. With each new thing that she discovers she can do, she gets happier and more excited with herself and life. Watching her enthusiasm is an inspiration and motivation for me. She needs nothing more than two feet and a warm smile to send her into a fit of giggles. I am rediscovering myself and an innocence I had lost as I see life through her new eyes. While I may never have as much energy as she does, even with daily doses of coffee, I can have as much joy and wonder; a good goal for my day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-1341998957664795488?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/1341998957664795488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/feet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1341998957664795488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1341998957664795488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/feet.html' title='Feet'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/St8TCWxvrbI/AAAAAAAAACQ/rKveZQn0hnY/s72-c/DSC04859.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-4039145674689622788</id><published>2009-10-15T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T21:04:54.674-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Food...Yum</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/StfwPOoVpQI/AAAAAAAAABw/PKlhtjMBAAA/s1600-h/-93372505003255630.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/StfwPOoVpQI/AAAAAAAAABw/PKlhtjMBAAA/s200/-93372505003255630.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393043223215449346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was married I put together a cookbook of all of my favorite recipes. During the later months of my pregnancy, and even more since having Sophia, I hadn't felt up to doing a lot of creative cooking. As I said in an earlier post, most of my dinners have been some variation of an easy chicken dish. Now that Sophia is three months old, I feel like I have a better handle on things and want to start making some of my favorite recipes again. (David is very excited about the prospect of some variety in his meals as well=) I thought I'd share these recipes with you all incase you too could use some new culinary ideas to add to your repertoire, so I created Mommy Needs Her Food (http://mommy-needs-her-food.blogspot.com/) as a companion sight. I'll be adding to it all the time and feel free to post your recipe ideas as well. Bon Appetit.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Check on the right side of this blog for a link directly to the page.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-4039145674689622788?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/4039145674689622788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/foodyum.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/4039145674689622788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/4039145674689622788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/foodyum.html' title='Food...Yum'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-JTQm3fYKJc/StfwPOoVpQI/AAAAAAAAABw/PKlhtjMBAAA/s72-c/-93372505003255630.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-1585291941456842100</id><published>2009-10-14T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T18:42:40.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Home</title><content type='html'>Today has been a handful. Sophia wanted to snuggle all day which is adorable and cozy but also kept me from being very productive. As a result of my arms being full of baby, the laundry and straightening didn't get done, but my blog got moved to it's new home. A lot of people had been having trouble finding my blog due to the fact that my old web address spelled coffee with 3 "e"s (I don't think Sophia was sleeping through the night in those days). To avoid further confusion I thought I would just change it, but it ended up being a much bigger project than I anticipated. I have come to realize that I am not very computer savvy. Well, now that my blog is all straightened out, I'd better get my house in order. It seems so much more peaceful when it's clean.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-1585291941456842100?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/1585291941456842100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-new-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1585291941456842100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1585291941456842100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-new-home.html' title='My New Home'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-1920101343309582178</id><published>2009-10-13T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yummy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/StUxA_csEHI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_lxQZCyINnE/s1600-h/ChikenEnchiladaswithTomatil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/StUxA_csEHI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_lxQZCyINnE/s200/ChikenEnchiladaswithTomatil.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392270021947560050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cook almost every night but it's always very simple things. I seldom have the time to whip up anything more than couscous, a vegetable, and chicken. Yesterday however, David put in a special request for his favorite dish, my chicken enchiladas. Now this is not &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; chicken enchilada recipe, it's my friend Lesley's recipe, but since I make them I get the credit=). A night when David will be around to watch Sophia for me, I plan on making this dish and HIGHLY recommend everyone try it! It's a husband pleaser. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2 Tablespoons vegetable oil (plus additional for the dish)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1-2 cloves garlic &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4 scallions (white and tender green parts) chopped&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 (15 ounce) can black beans drained and rinsed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 chipotle chili pepper in adobe sauce finely chopped&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1/2 teaspoon salt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1/2 teaspoon ground cumin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lime juice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 cup diced cooked chicken&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4-6 large tortillas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2 cups shredded Monterey jack cheese&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 cup green (tomatillo) salsa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Preheat the oven to 350 degrees; oil an 8 or 9 inch square baking dish.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In a large skillet over medium heat, heat the oil. Add the garlic and scallions and cook, stirring for about 1 minute. Add the drained black beans and cook until heated through, about 5 minutes. Using a potato masher, or the back of a wooden spoon, mash the beans. Add the chipotle, salt, cumin, and lime juice and cook, stirring constantly, for about 1 minute. Add the chicken and toss to combine; set aside.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Place a skillet over medium-high heat. Heat the tortillas, one at a time, until softened and flexible, about 10 seconds per side. (I skip this step.) Working one at a time, spoon approximately 1/6 or 1/4 of the black bean-chicken mixture along the center of the tortilla, then sprinkle with about 1/4 cup cheese. Roll the sides of the tortilla over the filling and place it in the baking dish, seam-side down. Repeat with the remaining ingredients.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Sprinkle the rolled tortillas with the remaining cheese and pour salsa over the top. Bake the enchiladas until warmed through, about 20 minutes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-1920101343309582178?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/1920101343309582178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/yummy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1920101343309582178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1920101343309582178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/yummy.html' title='Yummy'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/StUxA_csEHI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_lxQZCyINnE/s72-c/ChikenEnchiladaswithTomatil.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-7010727855700684068</id><published>2009-10-12T17:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/StPQp26x3eI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Y5G6JozGqwQ/s1600-h/DSC04779.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/StPQp26x3eI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Y5G6JozGqwQ/s200/DSC04779.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391882596427881954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I try to write my blog every night but it's amazing how little time I have these days. My daughter is staying awake longer and longer and always wants to play. She's almost three months old and is starting to realize that there are a lot of things she would like to be able to do that she can't do yet. As a result of this, she wants my husband and I to help her do all of these things. Whenever I hold her against my chest she wont let me just hold her, she needs to push with her legs so that she's standing on my lap. I've also taken to letting her stand on my lap and then bouncy her into the air while singing the Tigger song. Now when she stands on me, she starts bending her knees and trying to push off to bounce on her own. She also is trying to roll over whenever she's on her tummy. She made it half way over this last week before getting stuck on her arm. She was not happy. I'm excited for when she can crawl and talk, but in the back of my mind I can't help but think that if I have no time now, how much less time will I have then? I think I'll just appreciate and live one day at a time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-7010727855700684068?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/7010727855700684068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/growing-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7010727855700684068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7010727855700684068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/growing-up.html' title='Growing Up'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/StPQp26x3eI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Y5G6JozGqwQ/s72-c/DSC04779.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-5468413942795317181</id><published>2009-10-09T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Losing My Hair...YEAH!!!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ss--u-XhaGI/AAAAAAAAAGk/2K8T5i4LQfo/s1600-h/big-frizzy-hair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 194px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ss--u-XhaGI/AAAAAAAAAGk/2K8T5i4LQfo/s200/big-frizzy-hair.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390736993210689634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hair is falling out. I remember reading in my &lt;i&gt;Mayo Clinic Guide to a Healthy Pregnancy&lt;/i&gt;, which I would highly recommend, that this could happen but I didn't know it would be this much! It's AMAZING!!!! I doubt most women feel this way about hair loss but you have to understand what my hair is like. If I don't blow it dry and straighten it my head looks like a giant q-tip. In high school I was playing ping pong at my parent's house, and the ping pong ball got stuck in my hair...true story. At least when my hair was long the weight of it helped to tame it down, but now that it's short (see earlier post about my daughter vomiting in my hair) it is extra froish. I'm hoping that a couple more months of this hair loss will finally get me "Normal People Hair". Fingers crossed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-5468413942795317181?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/5468413942795317181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-losing-my-hairyeah.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/5468413942795317181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/5468413942795317181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-losing-my-hairyeah.html' title='I&amp;#39;m Losing My Hair...YEAH!!!!!!'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ss--u-XhaGI/AAAAAAAAAGk/2K8T5i4LQfo/s72-c/big-frizzy-hair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-818584149349273498</id><published>2009-10-08T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ss6LhIv1r7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/0vqEzvwb_Jo/s1600-h/DSC04762.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ss6LhIv1r7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/0vqEzvwb_Jo/s200/DSC04762.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390399205409140658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When David got home from work tonight he took Sophia so that I could get dinner ready with both hands. (I have found that two hands are indeed better than one.) He read her a couple books and then decided that since she is now 2 months old, she needed to get cracking on learning her ABC's. He found a Fisher-Price website that goes through the alphabet and it kept Soph absolutely entranced for about 20 minutes. With David and I both being big readers, we're trying to get her accustomed to it too. I don't know how much she's getting out of all the books we read her but we're enjoying rereading them=).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;http://www.fisher-price.com/us/fun/games/abc/&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-818584149349273498?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/818584149349273498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/reading.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/818584149349273498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/818584149349273498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/reading.html' title='Reading'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ss6LhIv1r7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/0vqEzvwb_Jo/s72-c/DSC04762.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-137476486321795594</id><published>2009-10-07T18:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sigh</title><content type='html'>Tonight I wanted to write an uplifting entry full of witty anecdotes about my two month old and life as a mother but I'm afraid I'm all anecdoted out tonight. I feel stressed and overwhelmed. I had a doctor's appointment today and had to get my script filled afterwards and my daughter was being less then cooperative. Thankfully my mother and sister were with me to lend some helping hands. There were no helping hands on the way home during rush hour however. My daughter decided that she was &lt;b&gt;desperately&lt;/b&gt; hungry so I had to contort my arm around the back of the seat to feed her her bottle as I was driving. (I don't recommend doing that by the way...my elbow is still angry at me and it's probably not very safe.) Upon arriving home my dog decided that he needed to be let out&lt;b&gt; immediately &lt;/b&gt;while Sophia decided that she too needed to poop. Needless to say, both did their thing and I cleaned up after them. Hopefully everyone will settle down soon and I can figure out something to eat and some way to unwind. I think decaf tea might be good tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-137476486321795594?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/137476486321795594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/sigh.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/137476486321795594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/137476486321795594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/sigh.html' title='Sigh'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-7239926103377997280</id><published>2009-10-06T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meal Times</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SswBrvrz-zI/AAAAAAAAAGU/-J4s3ahhU7w/s1600-h/DSC04735.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 188px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SswBrvrz-zI/AAAAAAAAAGU/-J4s3ahhU7w/s200/DSC04735.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389684705101871922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sophia drank around 40 ounces of milk today. I have no idea if this is a normal amount or not, but I can tell you it seems like an awful lot to my poor breasts! I can't seem to keep up with how much she wants to eat. For her last feeding I had to give her formula because I just didn't have anything left. I spent around 5 hours pumping and then feeding Sophia today. It's amazing how much time and effort goes into something that seems like it should be so easy. Since Sophia has stopped throwing up after every eating (see earlier posts), meal times have become some of my favorite times of the day. I love curling up with my daughter and seeing how happy and content she is because of me. I wish she'd give my breasts a little chance to rest, but if this is helping her sleep through the night I think I can live with it. (Here's hoping she doesn't decide to start eating more.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-7239926103377997280?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/7239926103377997280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/meal-times.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7239926103377997280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7239926103377997280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/meal-times.html' title='Meal Times'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SswBrvrz-zI/AAAAAAAAAGU/-J4s3ahhU7w/s72-c/DSC04735.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-490954079929361901</id><published>2009-10-05T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dog From Bewitched</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsqigZOCJjI/AAAAAAAAAGM/YT92KtGbiGI/s1600-h/gladyskravitz.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 162px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsqigZOCJjI/AAAAAAAAAGM/YT92KtGbiGI/s200/gladyskravitz.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389298581511480882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dog is scarily similar to Gladys Kravitz, the nosy neighbor on &lt;i&gt;Bewitched&lt;/i&gt;. He is constantly staring out our windows and shrieking about the littlest disturbance that he sees. Today he was running from window to window letting me know that cars were driving by, kids were being let out of school, and that there are, in fact, other dogs in our neighborhood. My daughter is blissfully unaware of his barking. Thank heavens she got used to it all those months in utero or that dog would be spending lots of time in the windowless laundry room. The only problem is that while the barking may not bother her, it bugs the heck out of me! I wouldn't mind if he was informing me of something exciting like a nose-twitching neighbor or a wise-cracking Uncle Arthur walking down the street, but there is never anything that good. If you've seen one yorkie you've seen them all. I think maybe we need to move to Walden Pond so our nosy, and noisy, little puppy doesn't have anyone to spy on. Gladys may be funny to watch, but she sure would be annoying to live with. Trust me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-490954079929361901?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/490954079929361901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/dog-from-bewitched.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/490954079929361901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/490954079929361901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/dog-from-bewitched.html' title='The Dog From Bewitched'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsqigZOCJjI/AAAAAAAAAGM/YT92KtGbiGI/s72-c/gladyskravitz.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-7583263185633801348</id><published>2009-10-04T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Windows</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ssj03z8RSVI/AAAAAAAAAGE/ftzdohw9kEA/s1600-h/90714-main_Full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ssj03z8RSVI/AAAAAAAAAGE/ftzdohw9kEA/s200/90714-main_Full.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388826193821780306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David and I are currently battling over the windows. He is constantly walking around opening them all up and I am continually closing them. He seems to think that the fresh air is good for Sophia. I can see "fresh air" being very important if you were in, say, a TB Swine Flue infested room, but our home is relatively germ free. Between the Lysol wipes, Clorox Clean-Up, and hand sanitizer, I feel pretty confident that our house does not need the purifying power of the fresh air. Since it is currently 50 degrees and fairly breezy, I think the open windows are much more likely to cause Sophia to catch a cold then keep her healthy. She has already had one and I can't take using that blue bulb sucker thing on her anymore. I think this really comes down to my husband being an outdoorsman and me being more of a four walls sort of girl. Since I don't see either of those things changing anytime soon, it looks like our windows will be getting a workout. Current state of windows: closed. Current state of husband: napping. We'll see how long it takes for the first to change when the latter does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-7583263185633801348?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/7583263185633801348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/windows.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7583263185633801348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7583263185633801348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/windows.html' title='Windows'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Ssj03z8RSVI/AAAAAAAAAGE/ftzdohw9kEA/s72-c/90714-main_Full.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-5834715238068868981</id><published>2009-10-02T17:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsaqlTfBVGI/AAAAAAAAAF8/BT-4izd_cDA/s1600-h/DSC04666.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 138px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsaqlTfBVGI/AAAAAAAAAF8/BT-4izd_cDA/s200/DSC04666.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388181562057643106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days are really hard for me as a new mom, and some days seem so easy and wonderful. Today was one of the easy wonderful ones. I woke up at 5:30 to pump while David hung out with the baby. I then fed her as he let out our dog, got dressed for school, and made espresso. When David left for school I put on the Today show and Soph played in her bouncer, had tummy time, ate again, and hung out on her play mat. I was starting to feel worn out so she and I went to Starbucks where I indulged in a grande nonfat no whip 2 pump pumpkin spice latte. YUM! After that we came home and I read her &lt;i&gt;Guess How Much I Love You, Oscar's Rotten Birthday, &lt;/i&gt;and &lt;i&gt;Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. &lt;/i&gt;She then ate and hung out in her crib laughing at her mobile while I got out of my pjs and straightened up the house. I grabbed some cheese and crackers for lunch and then we took a nap together until David came home. Heaven is a peaceful day with coffee, a nap, and no tears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-5834715238068868981?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/5834715238068868981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/today.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/5834715238068868981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/5834715238068868981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/today.html' title='Today'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsaqlTfBVGI/AAAAAAAAAF8/BT-4izd_cDA/s72-c/DSC04666.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-6932763595460761655</id><published>2009-10-01T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>For My Daughter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsX6RBoIPRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/aFv3P8dqGzs/s1600-h/carry_heart_clip.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 140px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsX6RBoIPRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/aFv3P8dqGzs/s200/carry_heart_clip.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387987699620134162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;While holding my daughter this afternoon, I was flooded with so many things I want her to grow up knowing. I want her to know that thunderstorms aren't scary, they're cozy and a great backdrop for snuggling on the sofa with a good book. I want her to know that it's okay to try at something and fail. I want her to know that I will always stay up late to hear about her dates, and will have a shoulder for her to cry on when that one boy doesn't seem to like her. I want her to know that being a girl is fun, but it comes with a lot of responsibilities. I want her to know that she is a mystery which will never happen again, a miracle which has never happened before (e.e. cummings). I want her to know that I will help her find the right shade of cover up when she's worried about her acne, and will let her know how beautiful she is even without it. I want her to know that I wont be mad when she drops a plate full of spaghetti on my white carpet. I want her to know that every boy comes and goes except for one, but girlfriends will stay with you forever. I want her to know that thinking for herself is important, and it's okay to question and challenge and disagree. I want her to know that respect for herself and others is one of the keys to happiness. I want her to know that I will never be more than a phone call or coffee date away. There are so many more things I &lt;i&gt;want&lt;/i&gt; her to know, and that she &lt;i&gt;will&lt;/i&gt; know, but for now I am more than content with what she &lt;i&gt;does&lt;/i&gt; know...that she is loved. That's what it all comes down to in the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-6932763595460761655?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/6932763595460761655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/for-my-daughter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/6932763595460761655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/6932763595460761655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/10/for-my-daughter.html' title='For My Daughter'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsX6RBoIPRI/AAAAAAAAAF0/aFv3P8dqGzs/s72-c/carry_heart_clip.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-1879766147131300836</id><published>2009-09-30T17:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mother's Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsQDIJJcBbI/AAAAAAAAAFk/7hBt79EEZxI/s1600-h/00295904.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 49px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsQDIJJcBbI/AAAAAAAAAFk/7hBt79EEZxI/s200/00295904.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387434492671296946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The self sacrificing nature of motherhood never ends. My own mother proved that to me today. Knowing that I have been feeling overwhelmed of late, and that I had a long day ahead of me, my mother cut her own plans short to be with me today. She arrived baring Starbucks (always a good start) and then proceeded to hold the baby, feed her my pumped bottles, and thoroughly entertain her so that I could get a lot of cleaning and straightening done. These things warmed my heart, but are not what really moved me. &lt;div&gt;The very large man who was replacing my front door today (from 9 am until 4 pm!!!) was having rather unfortunate gastric issues. Every so often he would ask to use our bathroom and as much as I wanted to say no, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I had to light candles, open the window, and close the door just to keep the smell from permeating out into the hall. My poor mother had to use the bathroom after one of his visits. I was in the nursery with my daughter, which shares a wall with the bathroom, when I started hearing a funny noise from the other side of the wall. It sounded like a sucking noise and splashing water followed by a flush. This went on four or five times before my mother walked back into the nursery smelling of rubbing alcohol and cleaning supplies. The large smelly man had stopped up the toilet and my mom, whose name I am currrently submitting for sainthood, spent 15 minutes plunging it for me! It was a messy ordeal, she mentioned being worried about e coli poisoning, but she did it because she's my mom. I had hoped that as my daughter got older our relationship would center less around poop and more around coffee dates and such...but after today I see that some things will always be part of a mother's love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-1879766147131300836?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/1879766147131300836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/mother-love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1879766147131300836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1879766147131300836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/mother-love.html' title='A Mother&amp;#39;s Love'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsQDIJJcBbI/AAAAAAAAAFk/7hBt79EEZxI/s72-c/00295904.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-2799199904531651564</id><published>2009-09-29T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tomorrow</title><content type='html'>All I can think about tonight is how much I'm not looking forward to tomorrow. I had scheduled to get our new front door put in tomorrow without thinking through the scenario very thoroughly. 1.) It's going to be cold tomorrow and I'm going to have no front door for about 3 hours...brrrr. 2.) My adorable psycho puppy barks like mad when he &lt;i&gt;thinks &lt;/i&gt;he sees someone. Tomorrow there will be actual people and I can only imagine how annoying he will be. 3.) My home is a mess right now with toys, clothes, and bottles everywhere. Why I feel like I need to clean it up for the workers and not my husband I have no idea, but I need to get cleaning before they show up at nine tomorrow morning. So, besides these problems surrounding the door installation, two new problems arose when I got home from spending the afternoon with my mom and sister. The first is that the laundry room is covered in water because a pipe broke. The second is that my kitchen faucet sprung a leak and the cabinet underneath the sink, and everything in it, is now also covered in water. These will be worked on tomorrow too, but who knows when the guys for these will show up. While I'm glad all of this will be fixed, I'm not looking forward to being sequestered in a cold house for an indefinite amount of time with a baby, a barking dog, and a number or errands I need to run but now wont be able to. I'm treating myself to a venti tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-2799199904531651564?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/2799199904531651564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/tomorrow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/2799199904531651564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/2799199904531651564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/tomorrow.html' title='Tomorrow'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-6340087772449469613</id><published>2009-09-28T16:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Little Pixie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsFYCUQKwlI/AAAAAAAAAFc/_u-RGD-zkQM/s1600-h/DSC04655.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsFYCUQKwlI/AAAAAAAAAFc/_u-RGD-zkQM/s200/DSC04655.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386683426131329618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;Something very exciting happened today. It is not that I was painting my nails with Sophia asleep on my lap and I spilled Lincoln Park After Dark on her shirt. It is also not that I pumped 10 oz of breast milk and then proceeded to drop it all over my carpet. No, my exciting news is that Sophia giggled for the first time today! My husband was changing her, he's wonderful, when all of the sudden her coos turned into the cutest giggles I've ever heard! The only giggles I had heard up until today were from annoying girls in high school, and Sophia's, thankfully, were nothing like that. As soon as she laughed I thought of the line from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;Peter Pan &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;about Tinker Bell&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#009900;"&gt;that says, "When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies." How ironic is it that friends of ours, who didn't know that I've been in love with Tink since I was little, bought Sophia her Halloween costume already and it's none other than Tinker Bell! I love my giggly little fairy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-6340087772449469613?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/6340087772449469613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/our-little-pixie.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/6340087772449469613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/6340087772449469613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/our-little-pixie.html' title='Our Little Pixie'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsFYCUQKwlI/AAAAAAAAAFc/_u-RGD-zkQM/s72-c/DSC04655.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-4028158467839542698</id><published>2009-09-27T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Simply Remember My Favorite Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsASK-7kLqI/AAAAAAAAAFU/EssVSUSon2g/s1600-h/DSC03848.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 96px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsASK-7kLqI/AAAAAAAAAFU/EssVSUSon2g/s200/DSC03848.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386325134235938466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsASKjwAspI/AAAAAAAAAFM/uZuNc6gJ-2Y/s1600-h/DSC03798.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsASKjwAspI/AAAAAAAAAFM/uZuNc6gJ-2Y/s200/DSC03798.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386325126939718290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARKiU51yI/AAAAAAAAAFE/tw9dHkcJAJk/s1600-h/glass-of-water.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARKiU51yI/AAAAAAAAAFE/tw9dHkcJAJk/s200/glass-of-water.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386324027045959458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARKeg23TI/AAAAAAAAAE8/P9kuifizVCM/s1600-h/19149.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARKeg23TI/AAAAAAAAAE8/P9kuifizVCM/s200/19149.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386324026022354226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARJxnZZhI/AAAAAAAAAE0/myWUSNQLU4E/s1600-h/sushi-for-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 194px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARJxnZZhI/AAAAAAAAAE0/myWUSNQLU4E/s200/sushi-for-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386324013970187794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARJpnQkoI/AAAAAAAAAEs/dYaQzXecSMU/s1600-h/6535_1217550286866_1472156679_30601456_3442213_s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 103px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARJpnQkoI/AAAAAAAAAEs/dYaQzXecSMU/s200/6535_1217550286866_1472156679_30601456_3442213_s.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386324011822125698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARJape5vI/AAAAAAAAAEk/WxvwSoLNSvk/s1600-h/10-1618-01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 153px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsARJape5vI/AAAAAAAAAEk/WxvwSoLNSvk/s200/10-1618-01.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386324007804921586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPXF8F6II/AAAAAAAAAEc/Tl_QmGC59WE/s1600-h/218188.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 144px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPXF8F6II/AAAAAAAAAEc/Tl_QmGC59WE/s200/218188.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386322043740743810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPW4dDEzI/AAAAAAAAAEU/v92my2EvgK8/s1600-h/topchef__oPt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPW4dDEzI/AAAAAAAAAEU/v92my2EvgK8/s200/topchef__oPt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386322040120873778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPWbGbMhI/AAAAAAAAAEM/1mgZW5lHrkI/s1600-h/tide_free.png"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPWbGbMhI/AAAAAAAAAEM/1mgZW5lHrkI/s200/tide_free.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386322032241357330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPWDgHSVI/AAAAAAAAAEE/vAFnxxz-Yio/s1600-h/OPI+copy%5B1%5D.JPG.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPWDgHSVI/AAAAAAAAAEE/vAFnxxz-Yio/s200/OPI+copy%5B1%5D.JPG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386322025906653522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPV6VOsII/AAAAAAAAAD8/GxbLrKV8EwA/s1600-h/32021927-300x300-0-0_Avent_Isis_Iq_Duo_Tm_Twin_Electronic_Breast_Pump-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAPV6VOsII/AAAAAAAAAD8/GxbLrKV8EwA/s200/32021927-300x300-0-0_Avent_Isis_Iq_Duo_Tm_Twin_Electronic_Breast_Pump-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386322023445082242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM-RKRffI/AAAAAAAAAD0/JhefR8xIYbY/s1600-h/41dnTAdXVjL._SL500_AA280_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM-RKRffI/AAAAAAAAAD0/JhefR8xIYbY/s200/41dnTAdXVjL._SL500_AA280_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386319418233028082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM-BsQWCI/AAAAAAAAADs/KUt2hedM1Q0/s1600-h/pumpkin-spice-latte-sign4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM-BsQWCI/AAAAAAAAADs/KUt2hedM1Q0/s200/pumpkin-spice-latte-sign4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386319414080591906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM9iHFavI/AAAAAAAAADk/6NeuIO0q410/s1600-h/7forallmankind_3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 103px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM9iHFavI/AAAAAAAAADk/6NeuIO0q410/s200/7forallmankind_3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386319405603187442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM9SR_cKI/AAAAAAAAADc/ffOKONE48go/s1600-h/coke_santa_from_1964.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 156px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM9SR_cKI/AAAAAAAAADc/ffOKONE48go/s200/coke_santa_from_1964.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386319401353965730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM9OalFlI/AAAAAAAAADU/kg_5w9oE-04/s1600-h/10706.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsAM9OalFlI/AAAAAAAAADU/kg_5w9oE-04/s200/10706.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386319400316245586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-4028158467839542698?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/4028158467839542698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-simply-remember-my-favorite-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/4028158467839542698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/4028158467839542698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-simply-remember-my-favorite-things.html' title='I Simply Remember My Favorite Things'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SsASK-7kLqI/AAAAAAAAAFU/EssVSUSon2g/s72-c/DSC03848.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-266799191987577855</id><published>2009-09-26T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Sr5gf3hxQKI/AAAAAAAAACc/lLLcKDfJq0c/s1600-h/TheScream.JPG.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 155px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Sr5gf3hxQKI/AAAAAAAAACc/lLLcKDfJq0c/s200/TheScream.JPG.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385848304979493026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to write every day but yesterday it just didn't happen. By the time I got home from all of my running around with the baby I was exhausted. My husband had had a really stressful week too, a student brought a loaded gun with him to school, so we canceled our plans and spent the night in. I just couldn't relax though. I've been slowly getting more and more stressed trying to juggle a new baby and the rest of my life. Yesterday everything hit me at once. My milk wouldn't let down and I was getting &lt;b&gt;SO&lt;/b&gt; frustrated with myself. My husband could tell I was close to my breaking point and did the most wonderful thing...he took the baby and sent me off to bed. I set the computer on my bedside table and fell asleep to Love Actually playing in the background. When I woke up 10 hours later I felt like a completely different person...myself (with very hard full boobs). I need to figure out how to keep a hold of that feeling, of who &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; am, while still fulfilling all of my responsibilities and different roles. This, like everything else, is a work in progress. Wish me luck.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;PS. Any and all advice is welcome.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-266799191987577855?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/266799191987577855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/last-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/266799191987577855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/266799191987577855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/last-night.html' title='Last Night'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Sr5gf3hxQKI/AAAAAAAAACc/lLLcKDfJq0c/s72-c/TheScream.JPG.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-4070793370929424458</id><published>2009-09-24T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.908-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Comes Early This Year</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrwheuXDS5I/AAAAAAAAACU/lFwTlegtIBo/s1600-h/bells.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrwheuXDS5I/AAAAAAAAACU/lFwTlegtIBo/s200/bells.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385216066152778642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited! Tonight, for the first time in months, I got my wedding and engagement rings to fit!!!! I, as I have mentioned in earlier blogs, gained a fair amount of weight while pregnant. I had to either stop wearing my rings, or risk losing my finger. Since life is easier with all of ones appendages, I took the rings off. Over the last month I would put them on and they'd fit...until I ate anything salty or stepped out into the heat. Since I do both regularly, off they'd come again. Well, tonight I have indulged in plenty of salty snacks and the rings still fit!!! Hallelujah! (I think my husband was beginning to think I didn't like him anymore=) I'm also excited tonight because I just saw an advertisement for the Christmas Carol with Jim Carrey and I adore anything, and everything, Christmasy! EEEEEE!!! Not even the most depressing Grey's Anatomy I've ever seen can bring me down tonight. Oh, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, I Can Wear My Rings!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-4070793370929424458?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/4070793370929424458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/christmas-comes-early-this-year.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/4070793370929424458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/4070793370929424458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/christmas-comes-early-this-year.html' title='Christmas Comes Early This Year'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrwheuXDS5I/AAAAAAAAACU/lFwTlegtIBo/s72-c/bells.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-7230214876078004807</id><published>2009-09-23T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Flipping</title><content type='html'>It's amazing how my life has completely flipped upside down since having Sophia. A good day for me used to consist of shlepping around all day in sweatpants, drinking coffee, sitting on the sofa watching mindless shows on TV, and staying up late. A good day for me now is getting into real clothes (I'm talking actual seams and a waistband), drinking coffee (ok-some things have stayed the same=), being able to get out of the house, and going to bed nice and early. Sophia falls asleep early but that's when I really get flustered...what am I supposed to do with myself!?! I should be doing laundry and straightening up the house but I'd rather snuggle with my hubby, or paint my nails, or even stare blankly at the wall for awhile. Tonight I am multitasking and doing it all. The loads of laundry I have neglected are spinning away, my nails are in the process of drying as we speak, and after I finish writing this I'm going to watch Top Chef with a bowl full of Reduced Fat Wheat Thins and do absolutely nothing. No way...she's waking up...well you never know where your day will go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-7230214876078004807?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/7230214876078004807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-flipping.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7230214876078004807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7230214876078004807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/life-flipping.html' title='Life Flipping'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-3367149440950331185</id><published>2009-09-22T14:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrmNIF4AbCI/AAAAAAAAACM/LMvHAhtLJMA/s1600-h/DSC04006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 148px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrmNIF4AbCI/AAAAAAAAACM/LMvHAhtLJMA/s200/DSC04006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384489999653694498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot to learn about being a mom. I thought that the prenatal classes I took would set me up for success but it seems they left out a few details. Looking back, I think the teacher was playing that two lies and a truth game with us. She said that bouncing on a ball during labor was the key to an easy birth. LIE. I could barely breath no less get out of bed and bounce. If my husband had tried to get that ball anywhere near me I think I would have hit him with it dodge ball style. She also told me that my daughter would love to be swaddled-that ALL babies love to be swaddled. LIE. My daughter hates it. The first few weeks of her life would have been much more enjoyable for us both if I had just let her sleep with her arms above her head like she wanted to. The teacher then told the class that you learn how to be a parent as you go. TRUE. So far I have learned that Soph, my daughter, gets weird gunk behind her ears if I forget to clean there (which I did for the first 6 weeks of her life). Soph also hides grunge in the balled up palms of her hands if I don't pry them open. I've also come to learn that: cradle cap only bothers her when I try to brush it off, the blue bulb thing  to clear out her nose makes a great chew toy for my dog, and long painted nails and a diamond ring aren't appreciated by her tender skin. 5 lessons down, about a million more to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-3367149440950331185?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/3367149440950331185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/mommy-101.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/3367149440950331185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/3367149440950331185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/mommy-101.html' title='Mommy 101'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrmNIF4AbCI/AAAAAAAAACM/LMvHAhtLJMA/s72-c/DSC04006.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-609444698921173082</id><published>2009-09-21T15:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Hate Garlic</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrgUXLmfyEI/AAAAAAAAACE/PrxUd8irGuo/s1600-h/garlic-bsp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrgUXLmfyEI/AAAAAAAAACE/PrxUd8irGuo/s200/garlic-bsp.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384075743005231170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I am sitting on the sofa in my pajamas, exactly as I was when my husband left to go to work at 6:30 this morning. Never have I seen him so eager to leave. It appears that the large quantity of roasted garlic I consumed yesterday does not agree with my daughter's digestive system. Sophia has been sobbing and having gas off and on, (mostly on) since late last night. We have rocked, walked, bounced, listened to music, and driven through the Starbucks drive-thru, which was more for me than her, and nothing has helped. This day has made me have a new respect for people who have colicky babies. How do you guys survive?!? It's been hard enough to handle the cacophonous cries of my baby without also having to deal with the snide comments and disdainful looks of others. The barista at Starbucks handed me my latte with raised eyebrows and a smirk and told me that I had, "some baby." Was that really necessary? I think I should have a sign or something that reads, "let she whose baby never cries cast the first stone." This is more of a rant today than anything else but hey, blogging is cheaper then therapy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-609444698921173082?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/609444698921173082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-i-hate-garlic.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/609444698921173082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/609444698921173082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-i-hate-garlic.html' title='Why I Hate Garlic'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrgUXLmfyEI/AAAAAAAAACE/PrxUd8irGuo/s72-c/garlic-bsp.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-7290307162178091130</id><published>2009-09-20T11:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eating for Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SraWXXeHYjI/AAAAAAAAAB8/bw6Wjm7uphI/s1600-h/DSC04490.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SraWXXeHYjI/AAAAAAAAAB8/bw6Wjm7uphI/s200/DSC04490.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383655732749492786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;My daughter's getting older, and I'm starting to see, in very distinct ways, how she is like my husband and me. Today, during her nap, I noticed that she was sucking her thumb. I was a thumb sucker until about 6 while my husband had never done it. A week ago, however, she did something very much like my husband...she lifted her leg to fart... something I have never done. She is also very smiley and sociable, like my husband, but definitely has my stubborn streak. At the pediatrician's office she refused to turn her head to the left, even when the doctor had it in her hands and physically tried to move it. The doctor became worried she couldn't turn her head to one side, even when I assured her she could. Sophia, just like her mom, was just being obstinate. Two minutes later Soph would only look to the left! Seeing her share some of our traits, and also how she she mimics us (she waves=) is both an honor and a huge responsibility. The later is something I was recently reminded of again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spent a large portion of my life bulimic, and a few weeks after having my daughter I was tempted to go back to this. I wanted to have control of something, as well as lose the 60 lbs I had gained while pregnant. I fed Soph, put her in her swing, and went to the bathroom to purge my own dinner. When I came back to pick Soph up, I saw that she was covered in her vomit (this was pre-rice cereal... see earlier post) and I started crying. I had just read an article by the American Dietetic Association that said when a mom is dissatisfied with her body, the daughter will learn to base her self-worth on her appearance. The study went on to show that girls as young as five were starting to diet because they saw their mothers doing it. It was intellectual information to me until I saw my mistake mirrored on my daughter's face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven't relapsed since that night, and I have people in place to help keep me accountable. I want my daughter to inherit and learn a lot from me, but not this. For more about this check out: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=2562308 OR&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;span class="citation-abbreviation"&gt;&lt;a class="ext-reflink" href="http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/redirect3.cgi?&amp;amp;&amp;amp;auth=0n55i6pxbemSYv5aKOk9IIKAtecqp8VaaFIdjQQwn&amp;amp;reftype=publisher&amp;amp;article-id=2562308&amp;amp;issue-id=172840&amp;amp;journal-id=319&amp;amp;FROM=Article%7CFront%20Matter&amp;amp;TO=Content%20Provider%7CArticle%7CRestricted%20Access&amp;amp;rendering-type=normal&amp;amp;&amp;amp;http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/eutils/elink.fcgi?dbfrom=pubmed&amp;amp;retmode=ref&amp;amp;cmd=prlinks&amp;amp;id=16287400" target="pmc_ext" onclick="focuswin('pmc_ext')" style="color: rgb(0, 80, 160); "&gt;Health Psychol. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="citation-publication-date"&gt;&lt;a class="ext-reflink" href="http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/redirect3.cgi?&amp;amp;&amp;amp;auth=0n55i6pxbemSYv5aKOk9IIKAtecqp8VaaFIdjQQwn&amp;amp;reftype=publisher&amp;amp;article-id=2562308&amp;amp;issue-id=172840&amp;amp;journal-id=319&amp;amp;FROM=Article%7CFront%20Matter&amp;amp;TO=Content%20Provider%7CArticle%7CRestricted%20Access&amp;amp;rendering-type=normal&amp;amp;&amp;amp;http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/eutils/elink.fcgi?dbfrom=pubmed&amp;amp;retmode=ref&amp;amp;cmd=prlinks&amp;amp;id=16287400" target="pmc_ext" onclick="focuswin('pmc_ext')" style="color: rgb(0, 80, 160); "&gt;2005 November; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="citation-volume"&gt;&lt;a class="ext-reflink" href="http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/redirect3.cgi?&amp;amp;&amp;amp;auth=0n55i6pxbemSYv5aKOk9IIKAtecqp8VaaFIdjQQwn&amp;amp;reftype=publisher&amp;amp;article-id=2562308&amp;amp;issue-id=172840&amp;amp;journal-id=319&amp;amp;FROM=Article%7CFront%20Matter&amp;amp;TO=Content%20Provider%7CArticle%7CRestricted%20Access&amp;amp;rendering-type=normal&amp;amp;&amp;amp;http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/eutils/elink.fcgi?dbfrom=pubmed&amp;amp;retmode=ref&amp;amp;cmd=prlinks&amp;amp;id=16287400" target="pmc_ext" onclick="focuswin('pmc_ext')" style="color: rgb(0, 80, 160); "&gt;24&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="citation-issue"&gt;&lt;a class="ext-reflink" href="http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/redirect3.cgi?&amp;amp;&amp;amp;auth=0n55i6pxbemSYv5aKOk9IIKAtecqp8VaaFIdjQQwn&amp;amp;reftype=publisher&amp;amp;article-id=2562308&amp;amp;issue-id=172840&amp;amp;journal-id=319&amp;amp;FROM=Article%7CFront%20Matter&amp;amp;TO=Content%20Provider%7CArticle%7CRestricted%20Access&amp;amp;rendering-type=normal&amp;amp;&amp;amp;http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/eutils/elink.fcgi?dbfrom=pubmed&amp;amp;retmode=ref&amp;amp;cmd=prlinks&amp;amp;id=16287400" target="pmc_ext" onclick="focuswin('pmc_ext')" style="color: rgb(0, 80, 160); "&gt;(6)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="citation-flpages"&gt;&lt;a class="ext-reflink" href="http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/redirect3.cgi?&amp;amp;&amp;amp;auth=0n55i6pxbemSYv5aKOk9IIKAtecqp8VaaFIdjQQwn&amp;amp;reftype=publisher&amp;amp;article-id=2562308&amp;amp;issue-id=172840&amp;amp;journal-id=319&amp;amp;FROM=Article%7CFront%20Matter&amp;amp;TO=Content%20Provider%7CArticle%7CRestricted%20Access&amp;amp;rendering-type=normal&amp;amp;&amp;amp;http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/eutils/elink.fcgi?dbfrom=pubmed&amp;amp;retmode=ref&amp;amp;cmd=prlinks&amp;amp;id=16287400" target="pmc_ext" onclick="focuswin('pmc_ext')" style="color: rgb(0, 80, 160); "&gt;: 548–554.&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:12px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 16px;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 16px;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 16px; font-family:Arial, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-7290307162178091130?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/7290307162178091130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/eating-for-two.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7290307162178091130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/7290307162178091130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/eating-for-two.html' title='Eating for Two'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SraWXXeHYjI/AAAAAAAAAB8/bw6Wjm7uphI/s72-c/DSC04490.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-1273629366027966413</id><published>2009-09-19T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If it Smells Like Poop...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrVYOB5b1PI/AAAAAAAAABs/FqUKLwbvX0Q/s1600-h/wses048129.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 112px; height: 168px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrVYOB5b1PI/AAAAAAAAABs/FqUKLwbvX0Q/s200/wses048129.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383305927642043634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my husband and I made plans to meet up with another couple for breakfast. I hadn't seen them since before our daughter was born and I thought I would dress up a little in an attempt to give off the, "I'm a new mom and have it all together" vibe. I don't know why I bothered. Yesterday my mom and I bought a bigger sized diaper for my daughter. I, having yet to find the delicate balance between tummy hurting and poop escaping tightness for this new size, didn't fasten it securely enough when putting it on. As I was holding her in my lap for a quick feed before we left, I felt the giant poop rumble on my leg. I thought, wise mommy that I am, that I would finish feeding her and give her some time to "get it all out" before changing her. A few seconds after that thought went through my mind I felt dampness on my leg. Lifting her up I saw that my pale green skirt now had a bright orange splotch right in the middle of it. I began to feel my "have it all together" vibe slipping away, but I was determined to salvage what I could of it. I peeled away her clothes, wiped the poop off of her back, stuck her in the tub, and re-outfitted us both. Moments later we were all in the car on our way, running only a little behind. As I was sitting there I realized I still smelled poop. She couldn't have done it again could she have? My husband, noticing I was a little frazzled, said he'd change her when we got to the restaurant and I was more then willing to take him up on it. After we parked he went to change her in the backseat but the diaper was clean. As I walked over to him in disbelief that it could smell so strongly of poop and be empty he began to laugh. "Katy, you have poop on your nose!" I think I need something stronger than coffee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-1273629366027966413?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/1273629366027966413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-it-smells-like-poop.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1273629366027966413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/1273629366027966413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/if-it-smells-like-poop.html' title='If it Smells Like Poop...'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrVYOB5b1PI/AAAAAAAAABs/FqUKLwbvX0Q/s72-c/wses048129.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-3214383183977702703</id><published>2009-09-18T18:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy Needs Her Sleep</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrQ9zui04JI/AAAAAAAAABk/wjDaosEYx3A/s1600-h/200283754-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 116px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrQ9zui04JI/AAAAAAAAABk/wjDaosEYx3A/s200/200283754-001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382995413491310738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have asked me, both during my pregnancy and after, if I think it's wise to be drinking coffee. I have read that some people have complications with their babies when they have caffeine, but thankfully I'm not one of them. Sophia sleeps through the night (most of the time), is always smiling and never irritable or cranky, only cries briefly to let us know she's hungry (except for today)... if only David had it so easy with me! The only complications that have arrived are when I DON'T have caffeine. The reason this blog is called Mommy NEEDS Her Coffee verses Mommy WANTS Her Coffee are as follows (these are actual events that took place when I tried not drinking coffee): I put a load of her laundry in the wash, forgetting that the key to actually getting them clean is to turn it on; I tried to make brownies and forgot to add eggs; I packed Soph and I up for a walk in the park, only to realize I had forgotten to bring the stroller; I tried to buy Starbucks with no wallet (thankfully they felt sorry for me and gave it to me anyway); and then today my sister and mom pointed out to me that I spelled coffee wrong on my blog's web address ("coffeee") and I had never noticed. Looks like what this mommy really needs is her sleep-but in the mean time I'll still be drinking the coffeee=).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-3214383183977702703?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/3214383183977702703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/mommy-needs-her-sleep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/3214383183977702703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/3214383183977702703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/mommy-needs-her-sleep.html' title='Mommy Needs Her Sleep'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrQ9zui04JI/AAAAAAAAABk/wjDaosEYx3A/s72-c/200283754-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-4757528044424468251</id><published>2009-09-17T16:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy is No Joke</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrLYjZx6f7I/AAAAAAAAABc/Mfa0j9mTurs/s1600-h/Carl_6w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrLYjZx6f7I/AAAAAAAAABc/Mfa0j9mTurs/s200/Carl_6w.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382602607388426162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my experiences during the pregnancy of my daughter, I vowed to never give unsolicited advice. I've been trying to hold myself back but today I can't. I need to share this with you in the hopes that you can learn from my mistake and save yourself some post traumatic stess.&lt;div&gt;At my six week checkup with the OB, he and I decided that an IUD was the best method of birth control for me taking into consideration a number of factors, one of them being that my husband and I want to wait 2-3 years before giving Sophia a sibling. My doctor, a now close friend of my husband and I, suggested that I tell David (my husband) that I was pregnant as a joke. I, being the loving mature wife that I am, thought that was an amazing idea and called him, at work, to tell him I was knocked up. Incase any of you women get a similar urge and think that telling the father of a six week old that his wife is pregnant would be good for a laugh let me save you the time... they don't find it amusing. (That was piece of advice number one.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This week I had to go in to make sure the placement of the IUD was correct. My doctor pauses during the ultrasound, looks at me, and says, "You wont believe this but congratulations, looks like we've got a David JR in there! Lets pull out that IUD!" Can you imagine?!? Being pregnant again with only 2 months off? I was just beginning to fit into some of my old clothes! Our home is nowhere near big enough! I'm barely surviving the one I already have for crying out loud, which I was about ready to do (or take the ultrasound wand and start bashing in the computer monitor) when my doctor bursts out laughing and barely manages to gasp out, "AHHHH-you should have seen your face!" After calming down by treating myself to a grande iced latte at Starbucks I arrived at my second piece of advice, and the moral of this story. An OB telling the mother of an eight week old that she is pregnant is NEVER good for a laugh AND, what goes around comes around so watch yourself. With that this very NOT pregnant mommy bids the day a good night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-4757528044424468251?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/4757528044424468251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/pregnancy-is-no-joke.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/4757528044424468251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/4757528044424468251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/pregnancy-is-no-joke.html' title='Pregnancy is No Joke'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrLYjZx6f7I/AAAAAAAAABc/Mfa0j9mTurs/s72-c/Carl_6w.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-6625156585205328369</id><published>2009-09-16T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Namer's Regret</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrGIfJAlPgI/AAAAAAAAABU/JR0y9q2k_vY/s1600-h/6a010536a396ff970c0112794dd6ad28a4-120pi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 109px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrGIfJAlPgI/AAAAAAAAABU/JR0y9q2k_vY/s200/6a010536a396ff970c0112794dd6ad28a4-120pi.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382233098260135426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a confession to make. The wisdom of saying something of this magnitude on the internet is questionable but for the sake of brutal honesty here I go... I wish I had named my daughter Madeline. I know what you're thinking. Who says this, who thinks this, and for heaven's sake who would ever admit to others that they suffer from Baby Namer's Regret?!? It's not that I don't like the name Sophia, I do, I'm the one who came up with it, but my mom planted the seed of discontent in my head this last week while we were at Starbucks and I can't get past it. &lt;div&gt;My mother, trying to either spoil or kill my 7 week old, offered her Madeline cookies. First problem: my daughter had, only that week, learned how to swallow and digest thickened breast milk (see my first post for the gory details)... there's no way she was going to get down a cookie. Second problem: Madelines are those peaked cookies that aren't good enough to make it into the actual bakery case with all the other pastries and instead have to reside in the plastic bin by the register with the broken biscotti and instant coffee packets... doesn't her granddaughter even rank a chocolate chip? But I was going to say when Truth broke in with all her matter-of-fact about the cookies (see Frost's &lt;i&gt;Birches) &lt;/i&gt;that I heard the name and thought it would be perfect. My daughter has redish hair just like the girl from the books, and if that's not a sign I don't know what is! I finally mustered up the courage to ask my husband about a name change and, while we were at it, changing her last name to Valentine as Madeline Valentine had a nice ring to it. He said no. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I look over at my daughter I'm reminded that we named her Sophia because it means wisdom, something I pray she has that will guide her through life. Sophia will stay Sophia. I like that. Hmm... I wonder what he'd think about a new dog... Madeline the Mastiff?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-6625156585205328369?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/6625156585205328369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/baby-namer-regret.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/6625156585205328369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/6625156585205328369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/baby-namer-regret.html' title='Baby Namer&amp;#39;s Regret'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/SrGIfJAlPgI/AAAAAAAAABU/JR0y9q2k_vY/s72-c/6a010536a396ff970c0112794dd6ad28a4-120pi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-3990613144051401793</id><published>2009-09-15T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Baby Body</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Sq_xbdftGvI/AAAAAAAAABM/kgDm6iIuegM/s1600-h/DSC04642.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Sq_xbdftGvI/AAAAAAAAABM/kgDm6iIuegM/s200/DSC04642.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381785533807401714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Sq_v44SuLEI/AAAAAAAAABE/jrj-bM0bBAU/s1600-h/DSC04642.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My daughter will be two months old this Friday. I'm not sure what I expected my body to look like at this point, but I think it was something like Heidi Klum's when she walked the VS runway 8 weeks after having her son. A girl can dream can't she? Needless to say, mine doesn't resemble that. &lt;div&gt;I got up to 182 pounds while pregnant with my daughter, and for a girl of 5'4" that's pretty significant. Everywhere I looked I was confronted by images of pregnant celebrities whose waists, thighs, and arms all dwarfed in comparison to mine. I began to feel self conscious when I went out and guilty when I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office. At one appointment, the OB told me flat out that I was fat and I broke down in tears. I came home that day determined to not eat for the duration of my pregnancy. I kept up this ridiculous regime for three days, when at that point I got light headed and fell, sending my very pregnant self into the emergency room for monitoring. I was released later that night, but not before learning a very important lesson; the well being of myself and my daughter come before anyone's idea of how thin I should be... including my own. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning at my doctor's appointment I weighed 147 pounds, and the stomach in the picture is mine. This means that 1.) I weigh more than Nicole Richie and 2.) no one is going to want to see me in lingerie except my husband. You know what? I am more than okay with both=). I think I'll be having a mocha WITH whip today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-3990613144051401793?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/3990613144051401793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/baby-body.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/3990613144051401793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/3990613144051401793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/baby-body.html' title='The Baby Body'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9N2f51LZf_Q/Sq_xbdftGvI/AAAAAAAAABM/kgDm6iIuegM/s72-c/DSC04642.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4474390151501814650.post-6231831037853940601</id><published>2009-09-14T14:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T13:50:30.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommyhood</title><content type='html'>So-I have decided to start a blog about my experiences with mommyhood. Every day since my daughter's birth has been wrought with sleep deprivation, breast tenderness, and more joy, laughter, and tears then I ever imagined. Up until a week ago vomiting could have been added to that list as well. Oh yes, the darling angel now asleep in my arms used to projectile vomit after feedings. Women, upon hearing my dilemma, usually said something wonderfully helpful such as, "Oh yes, my dear Frou Frou used to spit up too. Use this darling burp cloth." I would want to correct them but what could I say? "No, not 'SPIT UP', VOMIT, as in I just changed both of our outfits huddled in my car because my baby went &lt;i&gt;Exorcist&lt;/i&gt; on me." See...that would have never worked. Thankfully my sister, who will be referred to in this blog as either "The Baby Whisperer" or the "Massproducer", suggested I pump and add rice cereal to my milk to thicken it so she couldn't throw it up anymore. I tried her suggestion and the baby and I made it till bedtime (a truly antiquated term these days) in the same outfits we started the day with for the first time in weeks! I now bottle breast feed. It's a process that takes much longer but has increased my number of friends and helped reignite my romantic relationship with my husband, due largely to the fact that I no longer walk around smelling of dried vomit and sour milk. Ahh, just another day in the life, now where's my coffee?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4474390151501814650-6231831037853940601?l=mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/feeds/6231831037853940601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/mommyhood.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/6231831037853940601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4474390151501814650/posts/default/6231831037853940601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mommy-needs-her-coffee.blogspot.com/2009/09/mommyhood.html' title='Mommyhood'/><author><name>The Mommy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11308861326349502493</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
