<?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-4539509436793468847</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:09:33.535-08:00</updated><category term='Fathers Day 08'/><title type='text'>The long road</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-1282693529325731540</id><published>2009-04-28T13:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T13:41:38.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nearly Unnoticed</title><content type='html'>by Reese&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is lonelyEven though you can't tellShe is reaching outFor what, she doesn't knowShe will continue to sit in silenceAnd hope that someone may stumble acrossHer and all of her emptinessBut they only hope that they do it in timeOtherwise she will have drifted too farAnd she may let goOf whatever grasp of the world she hasAs she slowly fades out of the lives of everyoneNearly unnoticed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-1282693529325731540?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/1282693529325731540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/1282693529325731540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2009/04/nearly-unnoticed.html' title='Nearly Unnoticed'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-9172206144272001063</id><published>2009-04-28T04:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T04:42:55.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch</title><content type='html'>The Prisoner In The Dark CaveThere once was a man who was sentenced to die. He wasblindfolded and put in a pitch dark cave. The cave was 100yards by 100 yards. He was told that there was a way out ofthe cave, and if he could find it, he was a free man.After a rock was secured at the entrance of the cave, theprisoner was allowed to take his blindfold off and roamfreely in the darkness. He was to be fed only bread andwater for the first 30 days and nothing thereafter. Thebread and water were lowered from a small hole in the roofat the south end of the cave. The ceiling was about 18 feethigh. The opening was about one foot in diameter. Theprisoner could see a faint light up above, but no lightcame into the cave.As the prisoner roamed and crawled around the cave, hebumped into rocks. Some were rather large. He thought thatif he could build a mound of rocks and dirt that was highenough, he could reach the opening and enlarge it enough tocrawl through and escape. Since he was 5'9", and his reachwas two feet, the mound had to be at least 10 feet high.So the prisoner spent his waking hours picking up rocks anddigging up dirt. At the end of two weeks, he had built amound of about six feet. He thought that if he couldduplicate that in the next two weeks, he could make itbefore his food ran out. But as he had already used most ofthe rocks in the cave, he had to dig harder and harder. Hehad to do the digging with his bare hands. After a monthhad passed, the mound was nine and half feet high and hecould almost reach the opening if he jumped. He was almostexhausted and extremely weak.One day just as he thought he could touch the opening, hefell. He was simply too weak to get up, and in two days hedied. His captors came to get his body. They rolled awaythe huge rock that covered the entrance. As the lightflooded into the cave, it illuminated an opening in thewall of the cave about three feet in circumference.The opening was the opening to a tunnel which led to theother side of the mountain. This was the passage to freedomthe prisoner had been told about. It was in the south walldirectly under the opening in the ceiling. All the prisonerwould have had to do was crawl about 200 feet and he wouldhave found freedom. He had so completely focused on theopening of light that it never occurred to him to look forfreedom in the darkness. Liberation was there all the timeright next to the mound he was building, but it was in thedarkness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-9172206144272001063?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/9172206144272001063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/9172206144272001063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2009/04/ouch.html' title='Ouch'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-8276571561467353604</id><published>2009-04-26T01:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T01:40:29.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brent's Blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;WOW&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am a reality in your every day.  I have many names, many faces, many shapes, and I come in every size and color.  I’m blamed for more failures than anything or anyone else.  I have no respect for or of persons, I do not play favorites, and I never choose sides. Within me are invisible seeds of greatness and immeasurable fields of frustration.  What you choose to do with me will make you better or make you bitter.  The people who don’t want me the most inevitably have the most of me.  The great paradox is I will never go away but yet I can show anyone a better way.  Without me there would be zero success.  &lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;In fact, I am the driving force behind all achievement and the better you get at dealing with me the better &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;you… you will be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It’s not a matter of IF you will face me but WHEN you will face me.  And with that, let me make a guarantee.  I will be in your face every day.  I am the one thing in your life that has the potential to help you think bigger, be better, and do the impossible in every area of your life.  Unfortunately, until you meet me, everything is fine.  And like most people say, “it is what it is.”  Those people, by the way, don’t know the power I have to make their potential a reality.  &lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt;The most important thing about me that you need to know is I am waiting everyday to be used by you.  Or in worst case scenarios, to be used against you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Who am I?&lt;/strong&gt;  &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I am your Problem.  And just in case no one has told you, my last name is&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Solution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;-Keith A. Craft&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-8276571561467353604?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/8276571561467353604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/8276571561467353604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2009/04/brents-blog.html' title='Brent&apos;s Blog'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-1823271581388975567</id><published>2009-04-18T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T12:59:08.004-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get it?</title><content type='html'>Sometimes its sooo hard to not ask "why me"? With so much to be thankfull for, with such great kids, with so much love between us why are we frozen? Why are we frozen in our house of pain? Why do we hurt? Even harder to understand is why do we hurt each other? Dont we want the same things out of life?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-1823271581388975567?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/1823271581388975567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/1823271581388975567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2009/04/get-it.html' title='Get it?'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-240040817286021034</id><published>2009-04-14T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T09:46:33.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poof</title><content type='html'>In a flash it all slipped away.  I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; know where the slippery slope started but i know now whats at the bottom.  Looking back it all seems like a dream... a nightmare.  Looking inside it has taken its toll on my everything.  In the pit my stomach things churn.  So many things beyond my control have taken over my life.  What will be left of me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer feel like i have a heartbeat... it feels like my soul is pounding to get out of my body.  My body a shell to big for the smaller version of me that lives there today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-240040817286021034?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/240040817286021034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/240040817286021034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2009/04/poof.html' title='Poof'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-1088784068921268363</id><published>2008-09-24T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T09:41:12.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rehab</title><content type='html'>Rehab and Kid Rock in concert here in town and i went on a whim! Yup just grabbed a kid and bolted at the last minute and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; glad i did. While i was having a good time and taking in the great tunes i thought to myself. Not a life changing thought but a direction changing thought and here it is. All the b.s. i have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;survived&lt;/span&gt; in my life the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;trauma&lt;/span&gt;, drama and crap and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; still here! I made it. And to top it off if i stand back and look at what i have WOW i have so much to be proud of and i should be proud of myself. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; know how i let little things like bills and stresses bring me down recently but no more. NO MORE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;delt&lt;/span&gt; with far worse in my life and been far worse off than i am now and it seems when you block out some of the crap that happens in life you also block out the feeling of overcoming that crap and the fact that you did OVERCOME. Well at least i seem to have recently. I need to get my head &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;stright&lt;/span&gt; and embrace the speed bumps in my life. When i was born life was already rocky. Being that i was a baby *shrug* what did i know. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt; In time things became worse for my parents not because of me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; sure such is life for them. Those problems are the burden they carry, i never did but i suffered because of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Into the world on July 11, 1974 was born a fighter! ME! I joined the ranks with many others who have and will fight the battle of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;hardknocks&lt;/span&gt; looking for light, justice and to make this world a better place. As a toddler i fought to breath with a full size mattress on top of me and won. As a preschooler i battled the need for my mother quickly making due with my new mama, learning to find comfort in a stranger, wrapping my mind around the fact that comfort, love and understanding is only an open mind away. I fought off the urge to cry out to my mother at night and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;insteed&lt;/span&gt; learned to pray and believe that if i was a good person (a good kid) i would be alright and I WAS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Im&lt;/span&gt; not the only child (i know) to find ways around a drunk father, to except the fact that people we love sometimes leave us, to hold the life of younger brothers and sisters lives in their hands. Sometimes its easier to know that others had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;tramas&lt;/span&gt; and issues too but i hurt for them (for us) AND i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;relize&lt;/span&gt; children like us are stronger for it, i weep for the ones who did not "make it out". I DID! I must remember i made it out. I must never forget that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; stronger than i give myself credit for. Even with the hardships i have had in my life it could have been worse. There are children with no love in this world, who will go hungry far more than the few times i did, who will never know the feeling of comfort, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;strenght&lt;/span&gt; of God, the feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;TBC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-1088784068921268363?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/1088784068921268363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/1088784068921268363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2008/09/rehab.html' title='Rehab'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-2673064949286096760</id><published>2008-09-11T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T14:25:49.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Game Day!</title><content type='html'>Its on!  Its Game Day!!  Today is Taylors first JV came of his JR year in highschool.  I never even made it to my juinor year.  Sad :(  I went to school a lot at the start of the year however making it all the way to class a whole different story.  What a guy that son of mine is, i marvel at his and his brothers and sisters and the things they accomplish.  It never fails to amaze me how simply life can really be growing up if everyone is doing what they are supposed to be doing.  THAT very light has come on over my lil mans head a few years ago ~ you know about the time he ran into his first true love FOOTBALL.   I can remember when he was a really little guy in first grade i believe and one of the cutest lil girls in his class came up to me and said "know why i like taylor? cus he knows how to treat a lady!".  I still lol when i look back on that day him all running around and testing himself as he climbed and ran and jumped. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now years later i will sit in the stands watching him run, jump and mabey even climb (a few other kids that is).  He will take the feild and my breath.  The crowd will be yelling and screaming and i will too inside.  Inside ill be yelling please dont get hurt, please dont get hurt, PLEASE DONT GET HURT!  On the outside it will be GO BABY GO!  With every little impact my heart will skip a beat as i wait for the outcome.  SCORE he didnt get hurt. lol  Ok ok i know im supposed to get exceited when they make a touchdown but in every moment that he is on that feild i will be to, inside him, willing him every bit of my own strengh, courage, speed, agility and love.  Not that he needs it!  I can only hope that his heart and love for football make up for his lack of size and that his speed and strengh keep him safe and at the top of his game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if he never takes the feild today it will not change a think.  Taylor is a STAR to me!  If he was to never put a jersey on one more time for the rest of his life ill never forget the heart and love he played with.  Ill never forget the bruises, scrathes, bumps, pulled mucsles, hours of time, and heart that he played with.  I will never be the same for having loved him!  I will never question his ability to hold his own or his manhood.  For as much as his girlfriend thinks she loves him now she will never equal or even come close to loving him as deeply as i.  I am not just his mother i am his number ONE fan ~ in football and in life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-2673064949286096760?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/2673064949286096760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/2673064949286096760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2008/09/game-day.html' title='Game Day!'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-5720656570463482622</id><published>2008-08-18T10:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T12:56:31.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I QUIT</title><content type='html'>I quit smoking that is, no net yet but im going to give it a try, a honest good ol college try.  The first day of my ventrue will be sun. :o  Im taking Chantix and the hope is that it will help, we will see.  So far i took one pill around noon yesturday, felt like crap, didnt not sleep well, was dreaming ALL night long and i still want to smoke. lol  We will see what happens after my body has a lil time to adjust to the meds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crib is now set up as a toddler bed.  It took hours to get it set up and clean all the bedding and he loved it at first right up until he relized it was a ploy to get him out of my bed. lol He still loves it (to jump on).  I put him in after he falls asleep and he will stay for a few hours so for now we have that, a few hours a night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BLAH i feel like crap!  I hope this gets better or im chucking the meds and smoking for the rest of my life! ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-5720656570463482622?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/5720656570463482622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/5720656570463482622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-quit.html' title='I QUIT'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-2831071541177569151</id><published>2008-07-19T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T12:13:53.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pockets</title><content type='html'>I cannot believe its already been weeks sense i have taken the time to drop a line.  I am now a year old YUCK however my mind, my mind dose not think anything of it.  I still "feel" young. The mirror is the true judge and it tells me otherwise.  My boobs have gone south , my ass, hips and thighs now tell the story of midnight snacks and the bedtime bowl of cereal.  I keep finding grey hairs that i pull out at any costs.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Im&lt;/span&gt; not ready for this getting old thing yet &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt;  i refuse.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Im&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;officially&lt;/span&gt; 26 now :) ya 26 that sounds good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peanut found his pockets!  Its &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sooo&lt;/span&gt; cute all sticking things in there and when he stands there looking older with his hands in his pockets i hope i never forget the sight.  On another note i now have to ck his pockets before i can do his laundry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;UGGG&lt;/span&gt; i JUST broke the other kids of that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School will be starting soon (oh joy) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; NOT looking forward to it at all.  I mean if you do the math and there are at least 7 people in the family at the very least &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;thats&lt;/span&gt; 2 socks per person per day x 7 :0 yup serious numbers.  Too many socks.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Jovanna&lt;/span&gt; is gone for the next 10 days but in her place my sister has been kind enough to let &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Brian&lt;/span&gt; spend the very same 10 days with us.  Why is it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; not feeling lucky.  What is it about us already having 6 kids that makes others like my sister or his think we its not putting us over the edge by adding another child to the mix... teenagers even.  INSANE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and my brother... here is a pisser!  Already blessed with one set of twins now 12 well set #2 on the way.  Whats up with that.  Where is the fairness?  The poor guy can hardly keep up with what he has now and he gets to have his second set of twins.  Unbelievable.  Really i would have loved twins but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;nooooooo&lt;/span&gt; he gets not one set but two.  I am going to have to make a trip to phoenix to see everyone.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Im&lt;/span&gt; very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;excited&lt;/span&gt; for him, he, not so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;excited&lt;/span&gt;.  Not fair.  I am going to have to make a point of spending more time in phoenix so my nephews know who i am, not to mention the fact that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;im&lt;/span&gt; sure peanut would really love having the playmates. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well as you can see i really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt; have anything &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;exciting&lt;/span&gt; to share but i did want to share what i have so there it is.  Well the house is a mess and we have invited Mike, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Marie&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Greg&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Vicki&lt;/span&gt; over for dinner so i guess i should go clean up.  YUCK &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;shhhhh&lt;/span&gt; I MISS BEING A &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;SAHM&lt;/span&gt;  as much as i like my job i hate it and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;soo&lt;/span&gt; wish i could spend more time at home so i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;didnt&lt;/span&gt; have to spend my weekends cleaning, shopping and doing laundry.  I tell ya LIFE IS NOT FAIR!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-2831071541177569151?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/2831071541177569151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/2831071541177569151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2008/07/pockets.html' title='Pockets'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-5826628390788961493</id><published>2008-06-24T12:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T13:16:25.701-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If it can... IT WILL</title><content type='html'>Who is this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Murphy&lt;/span&gt; guy anyway?  Whats with his "law".  Whoever he is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; guessing he NEVER had any kind of luck &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cept&lt;/span&gt; bad.. poor guy!  His law seems to fit today with the soaring temps and dead batteries on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;suv&lt;/span&gt; and the motor at work i cant win.  I mean really who gets two dead batteries in less than 24 hours?  ME!  Anywho, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; gonna be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;soo&lt;/span&gt; busy for the next week just the thought of it makes my head spin.  I am really bad about making a list of things that need to be done but if it keeps going at this rate.. the same rate that kids drink the milk at home &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; gonna lose my mind.  I better make a list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick story that is going to get lost in the memory banks with everything else that is going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June 19 10pm and a restless infant/toddler keeps kicking and squirming around in the bed.  How exactly we ended up being co sleepers is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;beyond&lt;/span&gt; me.  I never let my other boys sleep with me but peanut, oh sweet peanut i guess being my last baby and knowing he is the last &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;idk&lt;/span&gt; i guess i caved.  Maybe not, maybe it really did just happen.  Having to get up all hours of the night with a infant not my cup of tea now that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; in my 30's and when the others where little i was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;sahm&lt;/span&gt;.  This time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; older, have less energy and work full time - maybe its just the other five/six kids have me worn down, either way its &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;SOO&lt;/span&gt; much easier to just bring him to bed where the three of us count sheep together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; laying there being kicked and annoyed for the first time in his 16 months of life thinking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;THAT'S&lt;/span&gt; IT!  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; so done with this co sleeping thing... this baby NEEDS to sleep in his own bed!!  That was it.. the moment.. that was the very moment my sleepy blued eyed monster who is every bit his fathers spitting image rested his head on my shoulder.  He started patting my back and you could just feel the love.  Crazy kid!  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Dh&lt;/span&gt; could hardly see in the dark room and asked "is he hugging you?" my response "yes and he is patting my back &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;soo&lt;/span&gt; sweetly".  Than with no warning - kind of like when the kids do chores without us having to ask them peanut sits up and out of the blue with sound effect and everything lays a kiss right on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;forehead&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;AWWWWW&lt;/span&gt; say it with me now.  How sweet is that?  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Dh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;hears&lt;/span&gt; this and asks "did he just kiss you" me "yup right on the forehead" tears almost &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;welling&lt;/span&gt; up in my eyes (remember &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; tired and a bit off &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;kilter&lt;/span&gt; at this point).  So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;dh&lt;/span&gt; asks for a kiss too and peanut crawls over to daddy and shows him some love too.  Is it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;possible&lt;/span&gt; he was reading my mind?  Did he at his young and tender age somehow know mom was at her wits end?  After showing dad some love he proceeds to climb back over and lay kisses all up my arm, neck and face!  What a stud.. really!  I was touched in every sense of the word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You go on with your bad little self baby with a sixth sense like that he is someday gonna make some little lady a very happy woman!  I AM WEAK and fell right into his little trap!  He is STILL in our bed with us &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;cept&lt;/span&gt; on that off night that we manage to have just a nickels worth of energy left in us to actually act like husband and wife.  On those nights AFTER he falls asleep we tuck his spoiled has us wrapped around his fingers cute little self in his crib.  On those nights when we need some husband and wife time.. if he happens to wake up all pissed off because he has been evicted from the bed we cave.. back in our bed he goes! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;  I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know for how much longer but for now.. he is our baby!  Our last baby!  And somehow, someway, someone is out there looking out for us and has blessed us with the understanding that it wont last forever so enjoy it for everything its worth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep, sex, money its all overated the love of your own little demon spawn THAT is what life is all about!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-5826628390788961493?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/5826628390788961493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/5826628390788961493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2008/06/if-it-can-it-will.html' title='If it can... IT WILL'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-535498204993013468</id><published>2008-06-23T14:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T14:14:38.932-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fathers Day 08'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A nice dinner with most of the kids... he smiled a lot and that makes me happy.  His gift &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; come in the mail like it was supposed to Sat. so we had no gift to give him but i got the feeling he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; mind a bit.  Part of me knows he was reeling in the fact that everybody was getting along &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;.  I know part of that (not minding not having a gift) is because he knows if i ordered it online and he knows i did this time.. i spent MUCH more time into what i was getting.  He knows it will  be a nice gift and not something we picked up at W&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;almart&lt;/span&gt; at the last minute. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;HAHA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he feels he could do more and be a even better father too.  Of course he would not admit such a thing but he knows.  In his heart he knows he should lose weight and he is probably feeling it too.  His hair is grey now.. well not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; yet but it getting there quickly.  He watches t.v. too much and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; help around the house enough.  When Taylor was spitting spit wads through his straw as soon as they brought us the drinks he knew... it was ALL his fault that our son would do such a thing at a nice &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is a big kid and i LOVE him.  He IS a GREAT FATHER!!  He gets better and better at this being a husband and father thing everyday. He is a great man and his love for us all at the end of the day can fill a room.  He is so quick to make up and easy to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;persuade&lt;/span&gt; and a strong man would die for any one of us without hesitation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is lucky i see his heart IS in the right place.  He is lucky i think grey hair is sexy.  He is lucky his daughters are still his little girls know matter how big they get.  And i think he sees the potential in our children and wants them to be the best they can be at all times even if it means he has to drag it out of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love him deeply, softly and with all my being.  I think he even saw humor in the fact that peanut insisted he had to go poo-poo(pee-pee) twice during dinner.  I saw him watching our son shove food into his already full of food mouth in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;awww&lt;/span&gt;.  Really who knew a child that small could put that much food in his mouth.  I would love to know what he was thinking when peanut wanted to eat off my plate instead of his own  and i commented that i guess he was just used to sharing my dinner with me when we go out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-535498204993013468?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/535498204993013468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/535498204993013468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2008/06/nice-dinner-with-most-of-kids.html' title=''/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4539509436793468847.post-1650909908393088606</id><published>2008-06-23T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T13:40:02.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My first time</title><content type='html'>I don't know much about having a blog but to me it seems a perfect way to disperse all those random thoughts that cause traffic jams in my head. I think i was born to blog. I have so many wayward thought. Its like a sold out show of thoughts in my mind, its very crowed in there and some of them are looking for the nearest emergency exit. THIS is a perfect outlet for me and i wonder why it is I'm just now realizing that. I guess i should take that as a sign that I'm sometimes slow. I'm glad to see that there is a spell check because that is a downfall for me and not something i am proud of but it doesn't bother me enough to do anything about it either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of right now i &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; i will be sharing this blog with anyone so it will be just like talking to myself. I already do that way too much however this is different and may cure me of the going crazy and talking to myself all the time virus i seem to have picked up. I have always been one that talks to much come to think of it so is my sweet dd, maybe i should set up a place for her to blog too! Could you imagine the blog of an 11 yr old? I cant even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;begin&lt;/span&gt; to imagine the kind of nut job people would have taken me for when i was 11. She is more well rounded than i ever was at her age. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; proud of that. Im proud of the fact that she has not been through all the bs i went through when i was her age.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4539509436793468847-1650909908393088606?l=fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/1650909908393088606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4539509436793468847/posts/default/1650909908393088606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fudgecoveredmonkeys.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-first-time.html' title='My first time'/><author><name>2breal</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11084010455264342381</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></entry></feed>
