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	<title>MamaBloo &#187; kids</title>
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	<description>Marriage. Motherhood. Life.</description>
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		<title>Jonesin&#8217; For Hot Chocolate</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/jonesin-for-hot-chocolate/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/jonesin-for-hot-chocolate/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Nov 2010 14:00:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[boys]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=2276</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My son is obsessed with Hot Chocolate.  He has not had any since last winter and when he saw me come home with a box of Swiss Miss and a bag of marshmellows, he became focused on having that first yummy mug of cholately goodness.  It is a well known fact that Ty can negotiate [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>My son is obsessed with Hot Chocolate.  He has not had any since last winter and when he saw me come home with a box of Swiss Miss and a bag of marshmellows, he became focused on having that first yummy mug of cholately goodness. </p>
<p>It is a well known fact that Ty can negotiate just about anything.  A friend and neighbor announced recently that he planned on having Ty &#8212; age five &#8212;  negotiate the re-fi&#8217;s on his mortgage.  I have to have nerves of steel and a heckofa line in the sand when Ty sets his sights on something.  And recently he set his sights on that box of Swiss Miss and that bag of marshmellows.</p>
<p>For days now he has been asking me about the weather report. It took me a while to figure out why.  His angle?  Rainy, wet, or even snowy weather equals&#8230;.Hot Chocolate.  But I once I was onto him I could tell him, hey, it is not quite cold enough yet!   He then turned to the &#8220;others&#8221; he figured would cave in or at least didn&#8217;t know the rules.  He asked babysitters and friends for hot chocolate.  Nope.  No luck.</p>
<p>Driving home from school Monday afternoon he told me, Ah Mommy, I am soooooooooo cold. </p>
<p>I was distracted by a garbage truck and the rain. Ah honey, I am so sorry.  What can we do to warm you up?</p>
<p>You see it coming, don&#8217;t you?  Well, I didn&#8217;t.  Moment of weakness, I guess.</p>
<p>I need Hot Chocolate.  He says in his sweetest, I love you mommy, voice.   So, I answered with the good ol&#8217; mother standby.  Let me think about it. </p>
<p>He smilled and then actually cackled.  Because, basically, he knew he had me at &#8220;I&#8217;ll think about it.&#8221; </p>
<p>An hour later, out came the tea kettle.  Out came the mashmellows.  Out came the Swiss Miss.   I even got out the whole milk.</p>
<p>Okay, bud, I said.  You can have the hot chocolate on one condition.  You have to let me take your picture while you drink it.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a rel="attachment wp-att-2277" href="http://mamabloo.com/jonesin-for-hot-chocolate/ty-and-hot-chocolate/"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-2277" style="border: black 12px solid;" title="Ty and Hot Chocolate" src="http://mamabloo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/Ty-and-Hot-Chocolate-682x1024.jpg" alt="" width="327" height="491" /></a></p>
<p>I am pretty sure that his internal dialoge goes something like this&#8230; &#8220;SUCKAAHHHH!&#8221;</p>
<p>I am doomed, aren&#8217;t I???</p>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Don&#8217;t Cry Over Spilled Milk</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/dont-cry-over-spilled-milk/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/dont-cry-over-spilled-milk/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 10 Nov 2010 14:00:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Articles]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=2253</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[In our house we have an epidemic.  As much as I love each and every one of my kids, they spill.  Like, a lot.  So much so that we have a title that we pass around almost nightly.  The title?  The Spiller. It goes like this.  Izzy knocks over her milk and it spills everywhere [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>In our house we have an epidemic.  As much as I love each and every one of my kids, they spill.  Like, a lot.  So much so that we have a title that we pass around almost nightly.  The title?  The Spiller.</p>
<p>It goes like this.  Izzy knocks over her milk and it spills everywhere and someone announces, &#8220;Izzy is THE SPILLER tonight!!!&#8221;  She smiles.  Ah shucks.  I get to be THE SPILLER ?  Cool.</p>
<p>We spill so much around here that also have an expression that immediately  follows any spill.  The glass goes over, water goes everywhere and I shout, &#8220;<strong>Mobilize the Spill-Unit!!!&#8221;</strong>  Upon this command,  Jade runs for paper towels, Izzy grabs plates and other gear out of harms way, Lily grabs napkins and goes low &#8212; mopping up the drips that are already hitting the floor, and Ty&#8230; well, we are working on him.  Usually he helps Jade.  I coordinate.  In this fashion we get spills cleaned up and everything back in order in less than 90 seconds and dinner continues.  We are a well-oiled machine.</p>
<p>Except for the time that Lily overwhelmed the Spill-Unit with FOUR back to back spills.  No sooner had everything been put right when.. bloooppp&#8230; over went another glass.  She spilled Jade&#8217;s milk, Ty&#8217;s milk and her own milk&#8230;twice.  It was epic.  We still talk about it when the conversation lags.  Hey, remember that ONE TIME when Lily was like the Spiller-Extraordinaire?    Oh yeah, we all say, that was epic!  Then we sort of chuckle.  But the chuckling doesn&#8217;t last because another spill is iminent and we have to be ready, on our guard for possible spill-unit mobilization.</p>
<p>Usually the SPILLER is Izzy.  That girl could enter the Olympics if they had a SPILLER event and bring home the gold. </p>
<p>Last night Ty was the spiller.</p>
<p>The night before it was me.  Like I said.  It is an epidemic.</p>
<p>&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-</p>
<p><a href="http://www.merakoh.com/2010/11/09/a-powerful-secret-to-setting-your-photos-up-for-success/" target="_blank">Click here</a> to see Emme and me during a Me Ra Koh photo shoot (last November) for her upcoming book!!!</p>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>The Highlight of Their Morning</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/the-highlight-of-their-morning/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/the-highlight-of-their-morning/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 21 Oct 2010 13:57:42 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Articles]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Reflections & Confessions]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=2178</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Having a big family comes with its share of the traditional ups and downs.  I mean, having two teenage girls and a baby means that feeling rested is really just a memory.  But as I have mentioned before, the big family thing comes with its share of sweet moments.  Sweet moments that are really more like [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Having a<a href="http://mamabloo.com/top-ten-reasons-to-have-a-big-family/" target="_blank"> big family </a>comes with its share of the traditional ups and downs.  I mean, having two teenage girls <em>and</em> a baby means that feeling rested is really just a memory.  But as I have mentioned before, the big family thing comes with its share of sweet moments.  Sweet moments that are really more like a suprise, something I never anticipated. </p>
<p> My two oldest &#8212; Jade (14) and Izzy (13) &#8212; get up and ready for school on their own. ( I try not to feel too much guilt about not cooking them omlettes every morning &#8211; my energy isn&#8217;t endless&#8230;). Each morning they pile their backpacks and instruments next to our front door and wait for the HONK that signals the carpool is waiting outside.  About the time they get their shoes on and switch into &#8220;hang out&#8221; mode before the carpool arrives, Ty, Emme and I mosey on down from upstairs to start our day. </p>
<p>But when Ty and Emme lay eyes on those two big girls, they go absolutely crazy with joy.  If Dora and Anakin and Buzz Lightyear all showed up at once, they wouldn&#8217;t get the kind of reception that Ty and Emme greet Jade and Izzy with every morning.</p>
<p>The next 10 minutes is a carinval of love from my two youngest to my two oldest.  Still in their jammies, Ty and Emme practically mob Jade and Izzy demanding the last few seconds of their attention before leaving for school.  Lego catalogs come out to be delved into, toys materialize,  the itsy bitsy spider and twinkle twinkle little star is sung&#8230;over and over&#8230; oh, and over and over&#8230; sometimes it is an imprompu game of hide-and-seek as Ty jumps under a blanket and instructs &#8220;come find me.&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a rel="attachment wp-att-2179" href="http://mamabloo.com/the-highlight-of-their-morning/img_0378/"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-2179" style="border: black 10px solid;" title="IMG_0378" src="http://mamabloo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/IMG_0378-1024x682.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="409" /></a></p>
<p>Final snuggles are given and plans for their return in the afternoon are made (&#8220;If you don&#8217;t have a lot of homework, Izzy, will you play Wii with me?&#8221;).  When the HONK comes Emme and Ty both run out to give one final goodbye to their big girls as they drive off.  Ty shouting his BBYYEEE!!!!! and Emme blowing kisses with a MWAH ..MWAH.</p>
<p>It is only after all of this that I can change Emme&#8217;s diaper, make breaksfast, and get our morning focused on Kindergarten drop off and baby music class.</p>
<p>But I wouldn&#8217;t change it.</p>
<p>Jade will be heading off to college the year Emme enters Kindergarten &#8212; only 4 years away.  And it is the time they have together now &#8212; even those few minutes in the morning, or maybe especially those few minutes in the morning &#8212; that will part of their relationship forever.  There will be a day when Emme will run out to blow Jade a kiss and she won&#8217;t be coming home until Thanksgiving.  </p>
<p>So, until then, I will enjoy that the highlight of their morning is with each other.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Spoons</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/spoons/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/spoons/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 29 Sep 2010 14:30:56 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Picture of the Day]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=2115</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[When I was a kid, my parents marvelled at my one, true talent.  Hanging a spoon from my nose.  It seems it runs in the family. &#169;2012 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved..]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>When I was a kid, my parents marvelled at my one, true talent.  Hanging a spoon from my nose.  It seems it runs in the family.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a rel="attachment wp-att-2116" href="http://mamabloo.com/spoons/sept-soccer-2010-023/"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-2116" style="border: black 10px solid;" title="Spoons From Noses" src="http://mamabloo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Sept-Soccer-2010-023-1024x682.jpg" alt="" width="614" height="409" /></a></p>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Water, Water, Everywhere&#8230;</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/water-water-everywhere/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/water-water-everywhere/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 27 Sep 2010 14:00:08 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=2103</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[On Saturday I came home from a scorching hot (74 degrees) soccer game to discover that Ty(5) and Lily(10) had embarked on a new money-making adventure. They had set up a water stand. And they were selling water. From the tap. Ty says, This is how we are going to get rich!!!  Now, mommy and [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align: left;">On Saturday I came home from a scorching hot (74 degrees) soccer game to discover that Ty(5) and Lily(10) had embarked on a new money-making adventure.</p>
<p>They had set up a water stand.</p>
<p>And they were selling water.</p>
<p>From the tap.</p>
<p>Ty says, This is how we are going to get rich!!!  Now, mommy and daddy, you need to buy some water and drink it.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-2107" style="border: black 5px solid;" title="Water Sales 1" src="http://mamabloo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Sept-Soccer-2010-069-1024x682.jpg" alt="" width="553" height="368" /></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dave has never been able to pass up a stand where kids are selling things and so he diligently paid a quarter (even though the price tag said 1 cent) for a kid-sized cup of tap water. It had one ice cube floating in it.  All eyes then turned to me.  I said, hey honey how about buying me some water, it can be like a date. </p>
<p>Dave frowned and dug through the junk drawer and produced another quarter for my glass of water.  I guess he had other things in mind for our date.</p>
<p>This money-making venture produced squeals of delight from Ty as he has huge dreams of purchasing the LEGO Death Star, which costs a mere 400 dollars.  He then required that I buy another cup of water but this time I had to select the heart glass because, he said, mommy you love me so much. </p>
<p>Yes, I do.  I am buying water twice to add to your Death Star fund.  Water, by the way, that was mine to begin with.  Or at least mine by marriage.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a rel="attachment wp-att-2108" href="http://mamabloo.com/water-water-everywhere/sept-soccer-2010-071/"><img class="aligncenter size-large wp-image-2108" style="border: black 5px solid;" title="Water Sales 2" src="http://mamabloo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Sept-Soccer-2010-071-682x1024.jpg" alt="" width="368" height="553" /></a></p>
<p>But I kept these thoughts to myself and enjoyed the joy of the little ones as they tallied up the 56 cents they &#8220;earned&#8221; and clinked it into their money banks.  And the water tasted really really good.</p>
<p>Cheers!</p>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>The Never-Ending Band Concert</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/the-never-ending-band-concert/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/the-never-ending-band-concert/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 23 Feb 2010 13:30:55 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=1228</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My kids are in band. My husband was the DRUM-MAJOR at his high school&#8230; so, yeah&#8230; my kids were doomed to be band-geeks. I was on drill team in high school, so I got to parade around in short little skirt and swivel my hips while said band nerds played &#8220;Tequila&#8221; at football games.  I [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>My kids are in band.</p>
<p>My husband was the DRUM-MAJOR at his high school&#8230; so, yeah&#8230; my kids were doomed to be band-geeks. I was on drill team in high school, so I got to parade around in short little skirt and swivel my hips while said band nerds played &#8220;Tequila&#8221; at football games.  I am not sure what this dooms my kids to be&#8230; I won&#8217;t go there.</p>
<p>But in all fairness the band at the local junior high is full of the <em><strong>cool</strong></em> kids.  Largely in part to an amazing band director who wins, like, POPULARITY contests for being the coolest teacher in the whole wide world.  Nobody stands a chance against this guy.  So&#8230;. back to what I was saying&#8230; my kids (and everyone else&#8217;s) are in band.</p>
<p>So, last week I went to the band concert.  They call it a &#8220;gig&#8221; which, to me, is more like a cool dude with a guitar in a coffee shop, but I&#8217;ll go with it for now.  So, I went to the band <em>gig</em>.  Izzy was playing in the 6th grade band (trumpet) and Jade was playing in the 8th grade band (clarinet). I left the two littlies at home with Dave, but took Lily (who plans on joining next year and playing the flute) with me.</p>
<p>We arrive at the junior high, head to the gym, and climb to the top of the bleachers.  We cuddle in with a bunch of peeps from the hood (I know that I live in a suburb, but every so often I like to speak the speak, ya know?)  I end up sitting next to Lily and 3 of her buddies from 4th grade. Which is possibly THE MOST embarrassing thing that has <em>ever</em> happened to Lily.  I mean&#8230; can you even stand it?   Her Aunt sat NEXT to her in public? </p>
<p>But back to me&#8230;</p>
<p>As I am sitting there listening to &#8220;Go Tell Aunt Rhodie&#8221; and &#8220;Old MacDondald Had a Farm&#8221; for the third year in a row, the numbers started to calculate in my head.  And then I realized that because of the way my kids were spaced out, I had 15 MORE YEARS of band concerts in front of me.  Oh yes&#8230; 15 more years. Then the images began to flash.</p>
<p>The people around me would change, but I would be the one constant at all the concerts for the next 15 years.  There was like this time-lapse photography thing going on in my head of me sitting in the same place on the bleachers while the people around me changed &#8211; most of whom will be younger than me. I would keep getting older and my eyes would glaze over just a bit more each year.  The rest of the parents would come and go and I would still be there&#8230; in 15 years.</p>
<p>15</p>
<p>I wonder if I will be wearing the same jeans and Old Navy t-shirt, with my hair up in a pony tail.  Will they refer to me as &#8220;that old crazy woman with all the band kids.&#8221;  Will my husband continue to run marathons, but me&#8230; my braggin&#8217; rights will be endless band concerts on rock hard bleachers listening to wobbly renditions of &#8220;Aura Lee.&#8221; </p>
<p>But I guess this is what I signed up for. I look across the gym and see Izzy waving at me from opposite bleachers where the 6th graders are waiting to perform.  I wave back with a big smile and lots of kiss-blowing.  I swell with joy as I watch a collection of little girls that Izzy met in 3rd grade who are now not-so-little perform flute solos, flute duets and trios, and a saxophone solo. These beautiful girls whose mothers I love and who were Izzy&#8217;s very first friends. I couldn&#8217;t help but bob my head a bit as they played.  When they finished, they bend their heads to receive medals for their bravery and I snap pictures because they are soooo brave.  So beautiful. I see Jade hanging out with her friends that she met in band &#8212; good, no, great kids who love music and Jesus and each other. I see the cute boy that knocked on our door to pick Jade up for youth group perform in a trombone trio and although I know Jade and he are just friends (really), I am glad that she knows him and that there are boys of his caliber in her life. And when the 8th grade band performs a overture from &#8220;The Music Man&#8221;, they are actually good.  And fun to listen to.   And I was proud of them all.</p>
<p>So, after the concert I went down to take the required pictures, which I now realize will be in every family photo album for  the next (wait for it) 15 years.</p>
<div id="attachment_1233" class="wp-caption aligncenter" style="width: 452px"><a rel="attachment wp-att-1233" href="http://mamabloo.com/the-never-ending-band-concert/band-gig/"><img class="size-large wp-image-1233   " title="band gig" src="http://mamabloo.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/band-gig-442x294-custom.jpg" alt="" width="442" height="294" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text">My Band Kids</p></div>
<p> </p>
<p>Which is very, very cool.</p>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>In defense of big families</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/big-families-are-okay/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/big-families-are-okay/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 12 Jan 2010 13:30:26 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Articles]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=310</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[A while back at a dinner party an acquaintance said that she felt sorry for kids in large families, because the older kids “gave up their own childhood” to help raise the younger kids. I could not disagree more. While it is true that in large families the parents become less of a focus.  Mom [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>A while back at a dinner party an acquaintance said that she felt sorry for kids in large families, because the older kids “gave up their own childhood” to help raise the younger kids.</p>
<p>I could not disagree more.</p>
<p>While it is true that in large families the parents become less of a focus.  Mom and dad can’t do everything or even as much as parents of 1 or 2 kids.  If we tried, we would turn into gelatinous blobs of goo and the kids would be on their own anyway.  But what does happen is that a tribe mentality develops.  Everyone chips in and, most importantly, we all take care of each other.  Now, I am not talking about a democracy… hell no!  In this tribe there are chiefs!  But there is also the reality that we ALL make this family work. </p>
<p>That means that the oldest kids sometimes read the bedtime stories to the youngest or cook dinner one night or babysit so mom and dad can go out for coffee or just get a private conversation with each other. This is not a bummer for anyone.  Not even that older kid.  What they get in return (beyond the skills it takes to do these things) is trust, responsibility, and a relationship with their younger siblings that goes beyond bickering or vying for attention. I know Jade would throw herself in front of a bus to save her little sister.  And that kind of love does not always come naturally when you are 13!   The oldest(s) get the best hugs.  They get to be the favorite.  They get to be  the heroes.  </p>
<p>When they score a goal at their soccer games, they get the sloppy wet kiss of a 4 year old.  They get to see their little sister snatch up their hand-me-downs like they are gold so she can imitate them. They get tackled the moment they get home from school and, sometimes, sometimes, they get to rock the baby to sleep. It is through these experiences that they actually <em><strong>hold </strong></em><em><strong>on</strong></em> to their childhood.  They get to build legos longer, play dress up more often, and watch cartoons without excuse.  </p>
<p>The love that flows between these oldest and these youngest and all the ones in between is not for us parents, us adults, to understand and certainly not to judge.  But we do get to enjoy it.  And occasionally we get a night “off” as a result of it.</p>
<div id="attachment_312" class="wp-caption aligncenter" style="width: 338px"><img class="size-large wp-image-312   " title="IMG_5843" src="http://mamabloo.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/IMG_5843-683x1024.jpg" alt="IMG_5843" width="328" height="491" /><br />
<p class="wp-caption-text">Ty (4) hugging Jade (13) after his preschool graduation!</p></div>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>How Motherhood Has Changed Me &#8212; Part II</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/how-motherhood-has-changed-me-part-ii/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/how-motherhood-has-changed-me-part-ii/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 02 Dec 2009 12:00:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Articles]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Reflections & Confessions]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=178</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I love being a mom.  Even when I am cringing at the sounds of my son’s voice, or exhausted by how buying the “right” coat for an 8th grade girl can feel like Middle East peace negotiations, I am glad that I am a mom.  But, being a mom has made me needy.  Very needy. [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I love being a mom.  Even when I am cringing at the sounds of my son’s voice, or exhausted by how buying the “right” coat for an 8<sup>th</sup> grade girl can feel like Middle East peace negotiations, I am glad that I am a mom.  But, being a mom has made me needy.  Very needy. Almost to the point where I wonder if there is some 12-step program for moms (if there isn’t, maybe there should be).</p>
<p>Mostly I need sleep.  And I need adult food – like steak or red curry or expensive hamburgers.  I also often need new clothes – ones that are not covered with someone else’s food or don’t embarrass my older girls at their complete lack of coolness.  I probably need some new vernacular, too. Words like “cool” or “awesome” are so “ghetto” and not “tight”at all (how am I doing?).</p>
<p>I also need a lot of Grace.  And I do mean Grace with the big “G”. Every single day I make mistakes that I can only pray do not send my kids to years and years of therapy someday.  Like the time I was so frustrated with Ty’s behavior I threatened to take away his birthday or when I insisted that Izzy take off the “ugly” head band for her school pictures or just how every year going to get the Christmas tree results in some form of tension between Dave and me, but I still insist on loading all 7 of us up in the mini-van the Saturday after Thanksgiving to go get a damn tree and begin Christmas!</p>
<p> Ugh.</p>
<p>I also need my kids to hug me, and kiss me.  Probably more than they need me to kiss and hug them.  I need to take their pictures in such a way that <em>they </em>will see what <em>I</em> saw at each stage.  I need to fill their babybooks with snippets that will help me remember <em>everything</em>.  I need to be treated tenderly because my heart now lives on the outside and walks and talks and eats and poops.  I need to pray and pray and pray that all 5 will be safe and healthy and that their teachers will love them and that their friends will be kind to them and that someday they will find someone to love them and that, hence, I will get grandkids that hopefully will sleep through the night and eat all their veggies and never scrape their knees.</p>
<p> I could go on and on.  Like I said, I am very needy.  And I love being a mom.</p>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>How Motherhood Has Changed Me &#8211; Part I</title>
		<link>http://mamabloo.com/how-motherhood-has-changed-me-part-one/</link>
		<comments>http://mamabloo.com/how-motherhood-has-changed-me-part-one/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Dec 2009 14:30:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Kari at MamaBloo</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Articles]]></category>
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		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://mamabloo.com/?p=32</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I swore that when I became a mom I would not, absolutely not, become one of those moms who could only talk about her kids; one of those moms who had the almost supernatural ability to steer any conversation whether it be about classic literature, politics, or lingerie, back to her offspring. Well, guess what.  [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I swore that when I became a mom I would not, absolutely not, become one of those moms who could only talk about her kids; one of those moms who had the almost supernatural ability to steer any conversation whether it be about classic literature, politics, or lingerie, back to her offspring.</p>
<p>Well, guess what.  I am there.</p>
<p>In fact, I am <em>so</em> there that I have started this blog to help me accomplish just that.</p>
<p>It is not that I don’t love literature and politics.  I mean, I do. (I do admit, though, that it is my husband who likes the lingerie, not me). I used to be an avid <a href="http://www.npr.org/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3366ff;">NPR</span></a> listener.  I used to read <span style="color: #000000;">Shakespeare</span><span style="color: #000000;"> </span>for fun, for goodness sakes.  But when faced with the chance to bring up something funny my four year old son said, or to lament with another mom about the perils of 13 year old girls, I cannot resist.  It is like a reflex. At first, I tried my own intervention.  But all I could come up with was a subscription to <a href="http://www.ew.com/ew" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3366ff;">Entertainment Weekly</span></a> and so now I can talk about my kids and the entertainment industry, not exactly the Ivy-league solution I was hoping for.</p>
<p>So, there is no doubt that motherhood has changed me.  I feel that in many ways I am the sequel to myself.  The first part of the story was the flashy, sexy version that knew something about wine, music, and art.  Someone who wore heels and drank fancy beers and drove a sports car.  But, part II (as most sequels tend to be) is a bit “off” from the original.  Not bad, not bad at all, just so wildly not what you expected that it causes you to tilt your head and wonder is this comfortable-clothes-wearing, covered-in-sweet potatoes, messy-ponytail, PTA mom the same person as before? </p>
<p>Well. I am the same person but different, too.  I can still talk about Barrack Obama, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dantes-Inferno-Divine-Comedy-Hell/dp/1420926381/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1256764745&amp;sr=8-1" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3366ff;">Dante’s Inferno</span></a>, and the pros and cons to wearing thong underwear.  But, I can also steer each and every one of those conversations back to the 5 most incredible, wonderful, amazing, awe-inspiring people I know…my kids.</p>
<p> </p>
<div id="attachment_196" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 452px"><img class="size-large wp-image-196   " title="IMG_5589" src="http://mamabloo.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/IMG_55893-1024x683.jpg" alt="The Kiddos: Age 13, 12, 9, 4 and a baby!" width="442" height="295" /><p class="wp-caption-text">The Kiddos: Age 13, 12, 9, 4 (the only boy) and a baby!</p></div>
<p>&copy;2012 <a href="http://mamabloo.com">MamaBloo</a>. All Rights Reserved.</p>.]]></content:encoded>
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