<?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-7061132191856879144</id><updated>2011-11-20T08:52:51.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Adventures of Abby and Ellie</title><subtitle type='html'>Girls and the real world.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>68</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-6621461577503292870</id><published>2009-12-31T16:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T10:57:53.821-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BIG News</title><content type='html'>Before you all freak out, don't worry, I am not pregnant. But I did give birth, kinda. Check out my new website:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.momisa4letterword.com/"&gt;http://www.momisa4letterword.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-6621461577503292870?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/6621461577503292870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=6621461577503292870' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6621461577503292870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6621461577503292870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/12/big-news.html' title='BIG News'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1081997132115722483</id><published>2009-12-22T10:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T10:16:23.296-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love in the Time of Foreclosure</title><content type='html'>We recently moved to the burbs. Placentia, the land of great schools and blue-hairs. It's quiet and safe. I love it here. But how we got here is altogether another story. I haven't blogged about it at all. I think part of it was that I was really overwhelmed about it, and part of it was lack of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am confident that we made the best decision for our growing family--to get out from under a house that was too small and too expensive. So we did a short sale, which finally closed just before Thanksgiving. It was a long, drawn-out process that almost killed us. I am SO GLAD it's over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still drive down our old street in Santa Ana twice a day: to pick up and drop off the girls for daycare. The other day, I finally saw the new owner getting into her car (we haven't met.) And all of the sudden I was filled with resentment and rage. Why was she coming out of MY HOUSE?! It was like she was the other woman. Up until this point, I hadn't had much time to think about it. But it felt like pouring lemon juice on a paper cut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that we chose to leave that house. But the timing of it all was less than perfect. Rob had to go look at houses when I was in the hospital with Ellie because we were in escrow on another house that fell through the day before she was born. He would take the video camera, then come back and show me. We made an offer in this house before I ever actually saw it with my own eyes. I spent my 3-month maternity leave packing, moving and unpacking. Did I mention that I was also recovering from a C-section? That time is supposed to be for bonding with your new baby, not moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike so many others out there, we landed on our feet. So now we dust ourselves off and move forward. But I think it will take a while for me to be okay with all of this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-1081997132115722483?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1081997132115722483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1081997132115722483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1081997132115722483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1081997132115722483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/12/love-in-time-of-foreclosure.html' title='Love in the Time of Foreclosure'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-6473574278594698142</id><published>2009-12-16T08:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T08:37:20.971-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping up with the Christmas Cards</title><content type='html'>There is something about getting photo Christmas cards in the mail always makes me feel like crap. I can't exactly pinpoint why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think part of it is that I see our friends (with their children nicely groomed, smiling at the camera) I instantly think, "Yeah, it's so easy for you to juggle with your well-behaved kids that sleep through the night."I know that it is just a moment in their life, that it always isn't always so easy for them. And I know that it isn't a competition, but why does it feel that way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing these picture-perfect families just makes my own inadequacies feel exposed. I am aware that things aren't always as they seem, and most moms, at some point or another, have felt the way that I do now...which is overworked and underslept. I can't wait for the day that's it's a snap to get the kids all dressed up and nicely groomed--and they'll stay that way long enough to capture the picture-perfect moment on camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even get organized enough to send out Ellie's birth announcement, let alone a Christmas card! She is now six months old! Those birth announcements have been sitting in her closet since we moved in August. My plan, for now, is to send her announcement and the Christmas card in the same envelope. Just so you know when you get it, it was a HUGE PAIN IN THE A** to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please frame it and hang it in your house, it may be the last card you ever get from us!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-6473574278594698142?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/6473574278594698142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=6473574278594698142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6473574278594698142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6473574278594698142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/12/keeping-up-with-christmas-cards.html' title='Keeping up with the Christmas Cards'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-870205360407481654</id><published>2009-12-13T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T20:30:29.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's beginning to look a lot like...</title><content type='html'>...the terrible twos! At 20 months, Abby is diving head-first into her terrible twos. My wonderful brother and his wife took our Christmas photos this year. I know, it was silly of me to think that we could get ONE SHOT with everyone seated pleasantly and looking into the camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abby was in rare form--refusing to be held, to smile, or wear the CUTE headband her mother got her. Even the holy grail of bribes--fruit snacks--didn't work. The pictures were so bad that I actually considered sending a Christmas card, using the image below with the caption "May the joy and happiness of the Christmas Season be with you all year." I thought it was funny, Rob not so much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414943376680478322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SyW-T73k5nI/AAAAAAAAASo/JQElPDfLpRQ/s320/738433570_WAA2K-L.jpg" border="0" /&gt; As usual, sweet Ellie was totally agreeable. Here's one that almost made it, of course Ellie looks weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414943579619832754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SyW-fv4Fs7I/AAAAAAAAASw/jQ2-yJkQf68/s320/738431951_BqyNU-L.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what we'll probably use. It isn't my favorite, but at least Abby isn't yelling/crying/ noodling.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414943588049952418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SyW-gPR_HqI/AAAAAAAAAS4/HMRGp32Jw1A/s320/738450117_Zndmk-L.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-870205360407481654?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/870205360407481654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=870205360407481654' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/870205360407481654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/870205360407481654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-beginning-to-look-lot-like.html' title='It&apos;s beginning to look a lot like...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SyW-T73k5nI/AAAAAAAAASo/JQElPDfLpRQ/s72-c/738433570_WAA2K-L.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1206427337206402720</id><published>2009-12-11T10:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T10:04:43.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Calling in sick.</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to lament for a second, so humor me. I've been sick since Thanksgiving. It was originally strep throat, then it morphed into bronchitis which has now settled into my lungs. I just picture that mucus dude with the Jersey accent, relaxing on his barka lounger in my alveoli. I cough all day and all night. I'm am so OVER it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abby and Ellie have some version of this too--stuffy noses and rattly coughs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what nobody tells you about being a mom: When you are sick, the demands don't change.&lt;br /&gt;You don't get a day or two to hole yourself up in your room and just sleep it off. The baby still gets up at the crack of dawn, there are diapers to be changed and mouths to feed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's the kicker--Rob is sick too. He stayed home yesterday (we both did) and he acted more like a baby than our actual baby. I know this will pass, but life is hard enough without the craziness of a whole family of sickypoos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-1206427337206402720?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1206427337206402720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1206427337206402720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1206427337206402720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1206427337206402720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/12/calling-in-sick.html' title='Calling in sick.'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-2883839204556801431</id><published>2009-12-11T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T10:02:09.241-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Defense of Poofs and Spray Tans</title><content type='html'>I can, with certainty, say that nobody will EVER call me a "guidette." If this makes sense to you, then you know that I am talking about MTV's newest show, "Jersey Shore."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last week or so, I've had almost a dozen friends ask me if I've seen it. People that don't even really watch TV! So yesterday, when I was home sick with bronchitis (and the girls were at daycare) I watched the first two episodes on MTV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am not saying that this is groundbreaking television. But it's a guilty pleasure. As my friend over at &lt;a href="http://thetelevisionmom.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Television Mom &lt;/a&gt;says, it's the perfect hate watch. I found myself longing for the days that what I cared about most was the size of my "poof" or who was going to hook up with "The Situation." The whole time it was on, I was telling myself that I should be sleeping instead. But, alas, I couldn't look away. It was like a car wreck, no wait, a train wreck. And I am ashamed to admit I loved every minute of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you'll excuse me, I should go and get some ham and a bottle of water...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-2883839204556801431?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/2883839204556801431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=2883839204556801431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2883839204556801431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2883839204556801431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/12/in-defense-of-poofs-and-spray-tans.html' title='In Defense of Poofs and Spray Tans'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3339805132928494164</id><published>2009-11-22T16:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T20:11:31.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'>If it ain't Dutch...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnYX90_8YI/AAAAAAAAASU/W7MH1vmUT40/s1600/718682234_img_7576.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407090733880439170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnYX90_8YI/AAAAAAAAASU/W7MH1vmUT40/s320/718682234_img_7576.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Halloween came and went. It was a fun time, but was a lot of effort for something the kiddos won't even remember. But it's nice to have a photo opp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnXrr8M89I/AAAAAAAAASM/bqlwIgTBWGM/s1600/718679108_img_7541.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407089973164569554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnXrr8M89I/AAAAAAAAASM/bqlwIgTBWGM/s320/718679108_img_7541.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My lil' punkin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407091317136408434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnY56oDv3I/AAAAAAAAASc/dkBDdCBTZKs/s320/718680199_img_7551.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We did a little spin around the block--Abby in the wagon, and Ellie in her stroller. We had our entourage in tow: The Grandmas and The Grandpas, and the Aunts and the Uncles. It was a big crowd. But I know we're lucky to be surrounded by family that cares so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407089962733387586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnXrFFNv0I/AAAAAAAAASE/-3ppUCU3jbc/s320/718657458_img_7521.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-3339805132928494164?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3339805132928494164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3339805132928494164' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3339805132928494164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3339805132928494164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/11/if-it-aint-dutch.html' title='If it ain&apos;t Dutch...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnYX90_8YI/AAAAAAAAASU/W7MH1vmUT40/s72-c/718682234_img_7576.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-326874694660031028</id><published>2009-11-22T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T16:13:56.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Someone get me a hankie.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnThU4ebvI/AAAAAAAAAR8/xCtQYGOxDAA/s1600/100_0342.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407085397129719538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnThU4ebvI/AAAAAAAAAR8/xCtQYGOxDAA/s320/100_0342.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Abby has gone from a smack-the-baby-on-the-head-and-steal-her-binky kind of sister to a very cute and considerate little girl. All of the sudden, SHE wants to give Ellie the bottle. She even stops and dabs Ellie's mouth with a blanket. Yes, she pushes the bottle in too far and makes Ellie gag, but it's still nice of her. It is SO freakin' sweet I can barely stand it. Not that I miss it, but what happened to my little Tasmanian devil???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's Abby, who crawled unto Ellie's playmat. Just to be near to her. Seriously.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-326874694660031028?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/326874694660031028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=326874694660031028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/326874694660031028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/326874694660031028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/11/someone-get-me-hankie.html' title='Someone get me a hankie.'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SwnThU4ebvI/AAAAAAAAAR8/xCtQYGOxDAA/s72-c/100_0342.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-6122931786023511487</id><published>2009-11-16T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T20:52:17.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Abby, Meet Abby.</title><content type='html'>We stopped by Chris and Masha's on the way home the other night and they took this video while she was still in her car seat. She's waving at the adorable baby she sees on the laptop screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-34a7bd0ebb678b5c" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D34a7bd0ebb678b5c%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330260004%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5602781571C34C87005C4BDC9DFC9F0A574A44E5.2D5051469ABD305DAC7683C2E8DD3689035CAF82%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D34a7bd0ebb678b5c%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DslRbGpotwsmsg41BTmeZtrkb3m4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D34a7bd0ebb678b5c%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330260004%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5602781571C34C87005C4BDC9DFC9F0A574A44E5.2D5051469ABD305DAC7683C2E8DD3689035CAF82%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D34a7bd0ebb678b5c%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DslRbGpotwsmsg41BTmeZtrkb3m4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-6122931786023511487?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/6122931786023511487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=6122931786023511487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6122931786023511487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6122931786023511487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/11/abby-meet-abby.html' title='Abby, Meet Abby.'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-8707921486204212164</id><published>2009-11-11T09:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T09:26:11.801-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's not you, it's me.</title><content type='html'>Dear Blogspot,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we need to talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not you, it's me. You see, I need my space. I need room to spread my wings. Room to express myself.It's been fun, and you've taught me a lot. I will always love you, but I am moving on for good. There is someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Pam&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS You'll know more soon, I promise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-8707921486204212164?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/8707921486204212164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=8707921486204212164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8707921486204212164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8707921486204212164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/11/its-not-you-its-me.html' title='It&apos;s not you, it&apos;s me.'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1951307370875642198</id><published>2009-11-06T11:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T11:25:00.655-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pammie Sue's No Good Very Bad Day</title><content type='html'>I've been asked over and over what I did to my finger and how I did it. Now that I've got the hang of 9-fingered typing, I thought I'd share the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a Friday morning like any other. And I was wrassling up the girls to head out the door. I strapped Ellie into her baby carrier and left it on the couch. I usually put Abby in the car first, then come back in for everything else. So I scoop Abby into my arms and step into the garage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side note: At this time, like I do everyday, I am playing "eye of the tiger" in my head and congratulating myself on making it out of the house on time. The morning rat race was just beginning. For God's sake, it was only 7 am and I was dressed for work (with clean hair and make-up on, I might add) and both girls were fed, clothed and clean-diapered. It is a mini morningtime-miracle each and every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. Back to the garage. I walk around the car to put Abby in but for some reason the belts in her car seat were way too tight. How does a kid seemingly grow 45 pounds overnight? Something wasn't adding up, so I put Abby down and adjust the straps. She runs over to Daddy's dirtbikes and wants to sit on them, like when he picks her up and lets her sit on top. She's wailing "Maaa muh!" and reaching up toward the bike. I am frantically adjusting straps. She won't be ignored. "MMMMMMAAAAAAAAAWH MMMUAWH!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turn to her, remembering the Happiest Toddler on the Block Method. She's really just a mini caveman, you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Abby, I know you want to sit on the motorcycle and you are VERY mad. But we need to leave so mommy can get to work so you can have a nice place to live, so please come over here so Mommy can put you back in your carseat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so proud of myself, thinking that since I employed said method, she would quietly comply and see my point of view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, right. Abby instantly flails herself on the floor and wails. I go over to pick her up, and she noodles onto the floor. A limp and lifeless rag doll. I pick her up and attempt to put her back in the car seat--where she engages the "board method" of resistance. Straightening her body, rendering herself totally unable to be strapped in. So now it's like wrestling a gator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get her safely strapped in and she is NOT HAPPY. I make funny faces at her, close the door and hear a crunch. That's weird, I think to myself. I slowly back away. And that's when I notice something tugging on my hand. It doesn't make sense. And then I see it. The door and closed AND SHUT on my right index finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if anything like this has ever happened to you--but it's one of those moments where you just KNOW it's going to hurt. It's like the pain receptors in my brain hadn't yet received the message. The whole thing was slow mo. I gently open the door, with Abby still screaming inside. And that's when the blinding pain set in. I know it's just a finger, but it hurt so freaking bad. My field of vision was closing in when I realized that there was a puddle of blood on the floor. Pulsating out of my finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran into the house, past Ellie waiting patiently on the couch. I grabbed a dish towel and fill it with ice. Then I sat down and realized that I really was going to pass out. It's only now I notice that my nail is crushed, split open and bleeding. I considered running to our neighbors' house, but we're still new to the area and I wasn't sure what I'd even say. I imagine myself passed out on their doorstep and the kids here totally alone. I grabbed the phone and called my mom to come save me. Thankfully, it was a Friday and she could come, but she lives at least 15 minutes away--and that's with no traffic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat and waited, I realized that I was fading and fast. I can't call 911, I think to myself, I'll end up having to pay for the ambulance bill and be laughed outta town by the dispatcher. As least I know that both kids were safely strapped into carseats for now. So I do the following: open the front door a crack, then lay across it on the cold hard tile. I guess I figured that when I passed out, at least the rescue crew (that I hadn't called) could get in a save my kids. I dunno. Panic makes you do weird things. Motherhood makes you do weird things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lay on the tile for a while and do some sort of makeshift lamaze breathing. I never even used it when I delivered my girls, but I was desperate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, my superhero mom came to the rescue. And I never ended up really passing out. Things just got REAL fuzzy there for a while. It turned out to be a hairline fracture--so I am in a splint for the next few weeks and learning to adapt quickly. It still throbs, though and that seems to be the most painful part. That, and when Ellie latches into it and squeezes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I marched over and introduced myself to the neighbors that night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-1951307370875642198?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1951307370875642198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1951307370875642198' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1951307370875642198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1951307370875642198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/11/pammie-sues-no-good-very-bad-day.html' title='Pammie Sue&apos;s No Good Very Bad Day'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-8121842386126670553</id><published>2009-11-03T16:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T16:35:18.528-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That's My Girl</title><content type='html'>I was just looking through some pictures of Ellie on her "birth day." Don't worry, they aren't all graphic or anything. At least not in the way you'd expect.  Upon closer inspection, I realized what she was really doing with her, um, middle finger. &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400040357772248850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SvDMGEHJxxI/AAAAAAAAARw/ZJ-DqAPeCEU/s320/607006788_xxnF5-M.jpg" border="0" /&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/7061132191856879144-8121842386126670553?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/8121842386126670553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=8121842386126670553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8121842386126670553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8121842386126670553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/11/thats-my-girl.html' title='That&apos;s My Girl'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SvDMGEHJxxI/AAAAAAAAARw/ZJ-DqAPeCEU/s72-c/607006788_xxnF5-M.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1380130259377759980</id><published>2009-10-28T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T10:33:43.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some People Knit, Some People Golf...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SuiAOMVdLRI/AAAAAAAAARo/djWYlqRckqk/s1600-h/knitting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397705134721281298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 232px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SuiAOMVdLRI/AAAAAAAAARo/djWYlqRckqk/s320/knitting.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have an old saying, "Some people knit, some people golf. I judge." It's my hobby of sorts, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know that some of you out there will be horrified by this. But the truth is, we all do it--whether you admit it or not. I don't think that I am better than anyone else. I am far from perfect, and I think it can be a relief to realize that NOBODY else is either. I don't do it out of malice, it's just a fun distraction to the daily grind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that it would be fun to do a new feature here about my favorite past time. Don't worry, names will be changed to protect the innocent. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the first installment of "Some People Knit, Some People Golf."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, I saw a lady at work wearing a black turtleneck and black faded mom jeans. Not my style, but the judging hadn't started yet. Over the turtleneck, she wore a SPARKLY vest covered with glittery pumpkins. And if that weren't enough, she was wearing light up jack-o-lantern earrings, with their beady little eyes glaring red. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am all for being festive. But this was way too much. Let's hope that she works in a patient care area and dressed like that to amuse the children. That's about the only justification I can think of. I don't want to upset my teacher friends (and mom) because I am pretty sure that ya'll are the #1 purchaser of festivewear (my made-up word) like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What's the worst festivewear you've seen so far this season?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(As you can see, I am getting pretty good at typing sans index finger.)&lt;/em&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/7061132191856879144-1380130259377759980?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1380130259377759980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1380130259377759980' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1380130259377759980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1380130259377759980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/some-people-knit-some-people-golf.html' title='Some People Knit, Some People Golf...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SuiAOMVdLRI/AAAAAAAAARo/djWYlqRckqk/s72-c/knitting.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-2481260345835155738</id><published>2009-10-25T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T12:14:30.299-07:00</updated><title type='text'>taking a blogging break.</title><content type='html'>i am sitting here typing with my left hand and it is freakin hard. i broke my right index finger on friday. hence, no caps or punctuation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;should make for an interesting week caring for the babies and trying to write at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wish me luck...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-2481260345835155738?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/2481260345835155738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=2481260345835155738' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2481260345835155738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2481260345835155738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/taking-blogging-break.html' title='taking a blogging break.'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-7980779988647805870</id><published>2009-10-20T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-20T16:04:36.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Present for Pam</title><content type='html'>To be honest, I don't even remember how I found Tabetha. I was doing a little late-night blog surfing and came across her site and fell in love with her pieces. I decided that I'd "commission" a piece for myself in honor of my 30th birthday. I wanted something pretty that could feature my girls, without being too over the top. Plus, Rob kept asking me what I wanted and I had no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since each piece is custom, I gave her a vague idea of what I like and she did the rest. And when it came yesterday, it was like my birthday and Christmas rolled into one. I had emailed her some photos and she added vintage beads and crystals. And it is seriously amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394819963803175970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/St5ALJGsjCI/AAAAAAAAARQ/p57eYeF4j4A/s320/013.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394819866437006306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/St5AFeYys-I/AAAAAAAAARI/-8KMIV5cJcQ/s320/012.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394820134393221602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/St5AVEmiEeI/AAAAAAAAARY/tN7crQdVs3c/s320/014.JPG" border="0" /&gt;If you know an expecting or new mom, a grandma, or heck, any woman with a pulse, I promise that she would go gaga for one of these as a Christmas gift. The best part is that it was really inexpensive. I mean, feel-like-you-are-stealing-it-cheap. Since each piece is different, her prices aren't on her site. But if you email her and let her know what you are thinking, she'll give you an estimate. Check our her other stuff at &lt;a href="http://www.reminisceheirlooms.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.reminisceheirlooms.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-7980779988647805870?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/7980779988647805870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=7980779988647805870' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7980779988647805870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7980779988647805870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/present-for-pam.html' title='A Present for Pam'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/St5ALJGsjCI/AAAAAAAAARQ/p57eYeF4j4A/s72-c/013.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-9080807369878809868</id><published>2009-10-18T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T21:31:54.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Em-eye-see-kay-ee-why...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StvrfzWOk8I/AAAAAAAAARA/trTd1RtfpLU/s1600-h/100_0202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394163910298211266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StvrfzWOk8I/AAAAAAAAARA/trTd1RtfpLU/s320/100_0202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Abby wants to wear these ears every day. All the time. At first, it was endearing. As a former slave to Mr. Mouse himself, I thought it was sweet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought, as we packed up one busy morning last week, "what harm can come from her wanting to wear these stupid ears?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got pulled over that same morning when I was in the carpool lane. The cop accused me of putting a Mickey Mouse stuffed aninal in the car seat to fool cops. It was just Abby with this hat on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/7061132191856879144-9080807369878809868?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/9080807369878809868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=9080807369878809868' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/9080807369878809868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/9080807369878809868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/em-eye-see-kay-ee-why.html' title='Em-eye-see-kay-ee-why...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StvrfzWOk8I/AAAAAAAAARA/trTd1RtfpLU/s72-c/100_0202.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-8314676546597795950</id><published>2009-10-16T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T16:33:10.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet as Pie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StkCqdrrE4I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/sqdI4zw-EtE/s1600-h/photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393344957298447234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StkCqdrrE4I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/sqdI4zw-EtE/s320/photo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-8314676546597795950?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/8314676546597795950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=8314676546597795950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8314676546597795950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8314676546597795950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/sweet-as-pie.html' title='Sweet as Pie'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StkCqdrrE4I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/sqdI4zw-EtE/s72-c/photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3631359478236578818</id><published>2009-10-16T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T11:24:40.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift of Fear</title><content type='html'>There are a lot of weirdos in this world, that I know for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I was approached by a very obviously mentally ill man in a dark parking lot. He was homeless, or at least looked that way and stank of urine. It was as I was leaving the grocery store. I just had Abby with me and she was still in the cart as I unloaded into the trunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked me for cash, and as he stood there, he was rambling incoherently to himself. I wasn't mean to him--the truth really was that I had no cash. But I certainly tried to put out that polite, but you-don't-want-to-mess-with-me-or-my-kid-vibe. I guess I went into "momma bear" mode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never looked back to see what Abby was doing while all of this was happening. Then I hear her scream "DAAAAA-DAAAAAAH" and when I turned around there she was, smiling as brightly as I've ever seen and waving frantically to this man. You see, Abby calls pretty much all men (including Rob) daaa daaah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't wave to her, or even smile back. He really didn't seem to know what was going on at all. He just stood there and stared. He ended up leaving after I gave him a bag of tortilla chips from my grocery bag and asked him leave us alone. And he went on his way, uneventfully. But it got me thinking. I know she's little, but she seemed to not pick up on my stress or the man that was CLEARLY not interested in playing her game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a scaredy cat, it just seems that lately, I've grown to be more and more paranoid about stuff. I guess it's all the media surrounding Jaycee Dugard. It also didn't help that, while I was up in the middle of the night with Ellie, I watched the Oprah from this week that featured all the missing children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that my kids are probably way too young to learn about "stranger danger." I want her to still be her outgoing little self, without being so paranoid about strangers that she lives in a constant state of fear. How do we teach our kids to be safe, without being scared? Please weigh in on this issue, whether you have kids or not. Any advice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, I read a great book a few years ago about trusting your instincts. It's called &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gift-Fear-Gavin-Becker/dp/0440508835/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1255716742&amp;amp;sr=8-1"&gt;The Gift of Fear by Gavin De Becker&lt;/a&gt;. It's where I learned that sometimes, in the name of safety, it's okay to be direct and ask someone to leave. He stresses that it's always a good idea to trust your instincts. They are there to protect you. He's written another book about keeping kids safe, so maybe I'll read it and do another book review...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-3631359478236578818?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3631359478236578818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3631359478236578818' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3631359478236578818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3631359478236578818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/gift-of-fear.html' title='The Gift of Fear'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-194204099826071939</id><published>2009-10-12T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T16:21:17.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My first book review: The Second Nine Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StO50myPhEI/AAAAAAAAAPo/BgVesHCmy0k/s1600-h/9months.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391857492308231234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 235px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StO50myPhEI/AAAAAAAAAPo/BgVesHCmy0k/s320/9months.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love to read. Although back-to-back babies have somewhat hindered my ability to devour books like I used to, I still like to squeeze in at least a little reading at the end of a long day. If for no other reason than it forces me to sit still. I'd like to be more regular about doing book reviews, since I think it could be helpful to others out there. Especially for busy moms, life is too short to read bad books. So I'll only review books that I would recommend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My inaugural review is of &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Second-Nine-Months-Becoming-Finally/dp/0738212555/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1255388992&amp;amp;sr=8-1#noop"&gt;The Second Nine Months&lt;/a&gt;, by &lt;a href="http://vickiglembocki.com/"&gt;Vicki Glembocki &lt;/a&gt;. I was given this book by a friend after Abby was born. To be honest, my first thought was "yeah right, when the $%# am I ever going to be able to read this book with this screaming baby hollering all the time???" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one night during one of Abby's mini-naps, I started to read. It's a hilarious and candid portrayal of what happens &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;after&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; the baby is born. Page after page, I found myself laughing (out loud). I could totally relate to what she was saying. Besides striking coincidences, like our daughters sharing a birthday and both having &lt;strong&gt;AWFUL&lt;/strong&gt; colic, I felt as though I could have written many of those chapters word-for-word. She had let me into her private quarters. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw the all-too-familiar strain that the new baby put on her marriage. I saw my own self-doubt as a mother in her tales. I really related to her loneliness and feelings of intimidation and fear of joining mother's groups. She writes about stuff that, as a new mom, I felt that I wasn't even supposed to think about, let alone put on paper. It was like she was brave enough to admit the thoughts that I has been avoiding--the good, bad AND ugly, from a close friend. And in the end, the takeaway is that you don't have to be perfect to be a good mom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read it again recently and found it just as funny and relevant the second time around. It helped me to see that I wasn't alone, and that it was okay that things weren't perfect all the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I need to come up with some sort of rating system. Any ideas? Stars are overused. Maybe vodka/soda-filled sippy cups? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, this book was good enough to make me keep reading, even through the bleary-eyed exhaustion of new motherhood. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-194204099826071939?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/194204099826071939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=194204099826071939' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/194204099826071939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/194204099826071939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-first-book-review-second-nine-months.html' title='My first book review: The Second Nine Months'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/StO50myPhEI/AAAAAAAAAPo/BgVesHCmy0k/s72-c/9months.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-989787286281075918</id><published>2009-10-07T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T10:14:21.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And you are...?</title><content type='html'>I am in the midst of an existential crisis. You see, the last couple of years have been a whirlwind. I am an otherwise totally independent go-getter, who's all the sudden sidelined with exhaustion and memory loss. Now I can't remember what happened 5 minutes ago, let alone what I liked and what I wanted before I was a mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend, my sister took me for a spa-day getaway to celebrate my upcoming birthday. Nobody has EVER done anything like this for me. It was an all-expenses-paid-baby-free day. (Thanks, Brashear Family, for pitching in and making this day possible). She even took me to a fancy-pants dinner afterward. And therein lies the problem--when it came time to decide where to eat and what to do, I was at a loss. I couldn't even think of restaurants I liked or places I had been before I had the girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came to the realization that every decision I make now has a kid-based factor. Is it family friendly? Is there enough parking? Will the double stroller fit through the door? Is it a loud enough place that if Abby screams and Ellie cries, will it ruin everyone else's meal? Do they have slings for the baby seat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, for the second time this week, I am being asked what I want and I don't know. I am turning 30 on Thursday, and my hubby and family wants to take me out to dinner. What do I want and where should we go? The truth is, I'd be happy with a stiff drink and a long nap. Is there a restaurant for that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-989787286281075918?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/989787286281075918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=989787286281075918' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/989787286281075918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/989787286281075918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/and-you-are.html' title='And you are...?'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1454134633362992515</id><published>2009-10-06T15:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T15:14:29.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abby's Big Bear Boat Ride</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvAtSWWzkI/AAAAAAAAAPg/Ehr1_cHrqJw/s1600-h/659349956_iTfqr-M.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Between the packing, moving and baby-having, it was hard to find time to post these pictures of Abby from the "River Queen" boat ride that took when we were in Big Bear in July. I know it was so three-months-ago, but I wanted to make sure that there were some recent photos of Abby somewhere on this blog. It's amazing how much she's grown since these were taken. That child grows like a weed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvAsCduRFI/AAAAAAAAAPI/GEMOEMreDDQ/s1600-h/659337312_yLvSu-M.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389613241887245394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvAsCduRFI/AAAAAAAAAPI/GEMOEMreDDQ/s320/659337312_yLvSu-M.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvArqLxGwI/AAAAAAAAAPA/LCWC3w9OM1c/s1600-h/659330310_X8TsV-M.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389613235369483010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvArqLxGwI/AAAAAAAAAPA/LCWC3w9OM1c/s320/659330310_X8TsV-M.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvAtH2NvwI/AAAAAAAAAPY/0xUy_z8drXs/s1600-h/659349956_iTfqr-M.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389613260512018178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvAtH2NvwI/AAAAAAAAAPY/0xUy_z8drXs/s320/659349956_iTfqr-M.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvAssBKF7I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/_H1k6h6MSRA/s1600-h/659348783_qGUek-M.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389613253041723314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvAssBKF7I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/_H1k6h6MSRA/s320/659348783_qGUek-M.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-1454134633362992515?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1454134633362992515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1454134633362992515' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1454134633362992515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1454134633362992515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/abbys-big-bear-boat-ride.html' title='Abby&apos;s Big Bear Boat Ride'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsvAsCduRFI/AAAAAAAAAPI/GEMOEMreDDQ/s72-c/659337312_yLvSu-M.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1916147218716239744</id><published>2009-10-02T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T11:17:01.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Working Moms &amp; Cuddle Time: What I've Always Known</title><content type='html'>I am "borrowing" a post from my new favorite blog: &lt;a href="http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/"&gt;The Motherlode &lt;/a&gt; on nytimes.com. It's a hip, funny and upbeat blog for working moms and stay-at-homers alike. It's a nice mix of mommy-related news items and guest posters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read this post by Lisa Belkin, and was thrilled. Especially since I carry around a suitcase-worth of guilt about having to work full time. I'd like to know what readers out in blogdom think, so leave me a comment and let me know where you stand on the working mom vs. stay-at-home arguement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you're done here, surf on over to the Motherlode. I'm sure you'll love it as much as I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Working Moms and Cuddle Time&lt;br /&gt;By Lisa Belkin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are endless ways of trying to measure the immeasurable, and researchers in Australia are now counting cuddles. Their conclusions: the babies of mothers who work outside the home get just as many as those of mothers who stay home — an average of 138 minutes a day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only was cuddling-time equivalent, the report last month by the Australian Institute of Family Studies concludes, but so was the amount of time that babies were held, read to and talked to during the day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The data was taken from the Longitudinal Study of Australian Children, a time-use diary kept by the parents of 3,000 babies between the ages of three months and 14 months. Counting snuggly moments, the researchers found that the cuddle equivalence was partly because working mothers who spent much of the weekday away from their infants became efficient about creating time together when they were home, and also because fathers were stepping up to prevent a gap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When mothers work full time, they spend 83 minutes less per day with their child compared to a stay-at-home mother, but the child spends an average of 81 minutes more a day with their father,” the report’s co-author, Jennifer Baxter, told the Australian newspaper The Daily Telegraph. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other data from the study: &lt;br /&gt;Breast-fed babies got an additional hour of one-on-one time with Mom each day, compared with bottle-fed babies. They were also read to, talked to and sung to more — about 27 minutes extra per day, and “held, cuddled, comforted and soothed” for 32 minutes more per day, though one would think that most of that overlapped the time spent breast feeding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, breast-fed babies slept 40 minutes per day less than bottle-fed babies and spent five minutes more per day crying than bottle-fed babies.&lt;br /&gt;Mothers who are college graduates spend 22 minutes more per day reading to their babies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Start that clock, and commence cuddling.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-1916147218716239744?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1916147218716239744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1916147218716239744' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1916147218716239744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1916147218716239744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/what-ive-always-known.html' title='Working Moms &amp; Cuddle Time: What I&apos;ve Always Known'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-9071167178084226442</id><published>2009-10-01T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T15:19:23.249-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Magic.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsUquHuyqZI/AAAAAAAAAO4/cxFAcEOSXMc/s1600-h/607044104_YQzan-M.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387759501056321938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsUquHuyqZI/AAAAAAAAAO4/cxFAcEOSXMc/s320/607044104_YQzan-M.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rob has been REALLY sick--and therefore quarantined to our bedroom and not allowed near the kiddos. After work, I have been heading to my folks' so we have somewhere to hang that isn't totally germ infected. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, we got home past Abby's bed time and I ran the girls into the house. I put Ellie in her crib (wide awake and kicking) and turned on this little musical/light show thingy she's got in there. I just needed a few minutes to get Abby changed and in bed, and to throw on my jammies. I figured she could self-entertain for a few minutes, then I could give her my full attention.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I go back into Ellie's room after about 15 minutes, and my heart stopped. Not only had the music and lights show stopped, it was totally silent. I was worried that something had happened to her, that I had left her alone for too long. When I peered over the edge of the crib, there she was. Fast asleep and sweet as can be. I hadn't even changed her diaper and she was wearing a stinks-like-spitup onsie!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's the kicker--she slept all night! It wasn't until 5 a.m. that she woke up! It's like she decided it was time to be a big girl. I have been rocking her to sleep the way I did with Abby (who had awful screaming colic) and it never even occurred to me to put her down to sleep on her own.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all you sleep deprived mommas out there, you know where I am coming from. It was a baby miracle. So let's cross our fingers her new sleeping habits are here to stay!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-9071167178084226442?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/9071167178084226442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=9071167178084226442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/9071167178084226442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/9071167178084226442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/10/magic.html' title='Magic.'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SsUquHuyqZI/AAAAAAAAAO4/cxFAcEOSXMc/s72-c/607044104_YQzan-M.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-6768392281533789911</id><published>2009-09-30T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T09:14:07.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I Never Want to Forget</title><content type='html'>Ask any mom and she'll tell you memory is fleeting. I've seen this featured on other mommy blogs and I thought I'd give it a whirl. So here goes, my first edition of "Things I Don't Ever Want to Forget."&lt;br /&gt;1. The first time I heard Ellie REALLY laugh. My mom and I were on a road trip back from a wedding in Lake Tahoe, and we were pulled over and Ellie was on my lap. Mom was recanting a hilarious (and somewhat inappropriate) story about a massage chair at a nail salon. We were both laughing so hard--and I guess Ellie felt left out. So she starting cracking up with her husky little laugh.&lt;br /&gt;2. Abby tried to soothe Ellie by putting her binkie in her mouth. It was way too big and Ellie gagged, but it was a VERY sweet moment.&lt;br /&gt;3. We first walked Abby through our new house after the carpet was in and the paint was fresh. She went from room to room, letting out HUGE gasps and squeals of delight. Each room, and each now color was a total amazement to her. Made all that hard work seem totally worth it.&lt;br /&gt;4. The way that sometimes just before bed, when she's getting drowsy, Abby will climb up on the couch with me and want to snuggle. It's a rare treat for me and I love every minute of it.&lt;br /&gt;5. Abby will brush my hair and try to style it for me if I sit on the floor with her. Our new favorite game: Sleeping Beauty. Mommy lays on the floor and pretends to sleep and Abby styles my hair. She has fun AND I relax.&lt;br /&gt;6. The way Abby loves to dance--with her arms waving high with reckless abandon like she's at a Greek wedding.&lt;br /&gt;7. Ellie still wakes up in the middle of the night for a bottle. Usually after that, I hold her and rock her until she falls asleep. She opens and closes her little fist against my chest. Just like a little kitten, it seems to help her fall asleep. And when it stops, I know that she's fast asleep. She breathes like a little puppy just after she's fallen asleep in my arms. Her skin gets all damp and her breathing speeds up just a bit. It's those dark and quiet hours of the wee morning that have become a really special time for Ellie and me.&lt;br /&gt;8. When I go to pick her up after a long day at work, I always see Abby with her little nose squished totally flat (or shoved up like a piggy) against the window near the door. I am so lucky to have such a great friend to watch both girls. They are so happy there!&lt;br /&gt;9. Last, but not least, what an amazing mom I have. Without my mom to help me over the past 18 months, I would go crazy. Seriously, I be blogging from a room with padded walls. She's available to help me anytime I need it--and she'll drop whatever else she has going on to be with me and her granddaughters. I love her so much and I know that I can lean on her when things get tough. I am acutely aware that when I am old and gray, these are the times I will look back on with fondness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure that I'll have many more memories to add to this list (and some pictures too) but that's it for now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-6768392281533789911?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/6768392281533789911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=6768392281533789911' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6768392281533789911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6768392281533789911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/09/things-i-never-want-to-forget.html' title='Things I Never Want to Forget'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-433516286732804930</id><published>2009-08-11T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T16:50:05.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Announcements, Announcements, Uh-now-wownce-ments</title><content type='html'>Gotta love the way Girl Scouts burned that song into my brain. Anyway, I ordered some pretty dang cute announcements for Ellie today from Shutterfly and I am very excited. I know she's two months old already but things have been busy so LAY OFF ME. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry, sometimes I get a little cranky. Even in blogdom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My brother Chris took some adorable photos of Ellie for the announcements. Please to enjoy:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368961536123527458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SoJiEjVg4SI/AAAAAAAAAOY/XumMkWsYiOU/s320/IMG_0916.jpg" border="0" /&gt;This picture so clearly captures the difference between Ellie and Abby as newborns. Abby never slept, let alone take a mini nap in a basket! I love it that Ellie is such a sleepy little snuggle pup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368961544989962578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SoJiFEXb8VI/AAAAAAAAAOg/nfdfzbOfBgQ/s320/IMG_0464.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368961568410493218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SoJiGbnU4SI/AAAAAAAAAOw/m2BdJsz8zmg/s320/IMG_0055.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;Here's one of Abby that I thought I'd post for good measure. She had the Bonanza DVD Collection box on her head. Before you judge me, I have to mention that it belonged to my folks. So judge away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To learn more about Chris and his bid-ness, visit &lt;a href="http://www.christopherwrenphoto.com/"&gt;http://www.christopherwrenphoto.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-433516286732804930?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/433516286732804930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=433516286732804930' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/433516286732804930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/433516286732804930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/08/announcements-announcements-uh-now.html' title='Announcements, Announcements, Uh-now-wownce-ments'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SoJiEjVg4SI/AAAAAAAAAOY/XumMkWsYiOU/s72-c/IMG_0916.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-2733255931587940213</id><published>2009-07-17T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T12:52:31.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Then There Were Four</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SmDWBg-03JI/AAAAAAAAAN4/-k5K51aCLUw/s1600-h/ellie2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359518878092549266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SmDWBg-03JI/AAAAAAAAAN4/-k5K51aCLUw/s320/ellie2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know this is LONG overdue, but my hands are FULL! On June 9, 2009, Ellie Marie De Jong joined our family! She weighed 8 lbs, 5 oz. She is a happy and healthy little girl. Abby loves her new lil' sissy and once we taught her to hug, not hit, it's been pretty smooth sailing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are hanging in there, sorta by the skin of our teeth. But I promise to post more when I have more time (whenever that is.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here are some pics from the big day:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359518874042045666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SmDWBR5HFOI/AAAAAAAAANw/ptGvih7T-Go/s320/ellie1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359518888568298194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SmDWCIAcGtI/AAAAAAAAAOI/o2nmJ181oSc/s320/ellie4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359518883223166242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SmDWB0GD3SI/AAAAAAAAAOA/pbq35gHXZjs/s320/ellie3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-2733255931587940213?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/2733255931587940213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=2733255931587940213' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2733255931587940213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2733255931587940213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/07/and-then-there-were-four.html' title='And Then There Were Four'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SmDWBg-03JI/AAAAAAAAAN4/-k5K51aCLUw/s72-c/ellie2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-83497444459387657</id><published>2009-04-26T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T20:51:30.774-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing Catch Up</title><content type='html'>Don’t worry, I’m not dead. I think once you get to the bottom of this post, you’ll understand why I’ve been MIA in blogdom. Here are the brief highlights of the last two weeks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an emergency root canal. I chipped my tooth (in the back) a month or two ago and I guess it got infected. As I was leaving the dentist office with numbface, I got the call from the nurse at my OB’s office. I failed the glucose screening test and had to do the three-hour comprehensive exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, still suffering from now painface, I started having contractions at work. I tired to stay calm, but after about an hour I decided I should do something about it. After a quick trip to the fetal monitoring center (which is conveniently across the street from my office) I learned I WAS having real contractions, and not the fakey Braxton-Hicks. But I wasn’t dilating and the contractions weren’t steady or regular. My OB wanted to pull me out of work at that moment, but I begged him to give me until the end of the week to wrap some stuff up at work. Luckily, he wasn’t suggesting full-on bedrest like last time, I just have to find time to “take it easy.” Yeah right, anyone with kids knows that chasing a one-year-old around is anything but relaxing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, I had the three-hour glucose screen, where I learned that I had gestational diabetes. Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met with a nutritionist that week that walked me through the process of taking my blood 4-5 times a day, and starting a super strict diet. I was trying to stay positive and be diligent, with the faint hope that I wouldn’t need insulin shots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wrong, and last week I started my insulin shots. This may sound lame, but this is probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I hate needles. And I’m used to being a human pin cushion, given what I’ve been through the last couple of years. But it’s a whole different ballgame when I actually take the needle (which just looking at it makes me wanna hurl) and mix the insulin, draw the solution into the syringe, and stick it into my baby-filled abdomen. It’s enough to push me over the edge.  Right now, I am doing the shots twice a day, and using the lancets to prick my fingers throughout the day. I just tell myself as I wince as stick the needle in that I am doing for the baby. It’s really amazing how much I am willing to endure when I know that it’s for my lil’ baby in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my numbers still aren’t that great, so I have a feeling that after my doctor visit tomorrow, I will either have to increase the dose each time or add more shots throughout the day. I am praying for the former…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up wrapping up as much as I could at work, and signing off until baby #2 is here. I’ve got about another 4 weeks until the scheduled c-section. Hopefully, the diabetes thing will vanish right after the baby is born. I just keep focused on that—I can do anything for four weeks, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between the weekly OB visits, the thrice-weekly, two-hour visits to the fetal monitoring center, the dietician/endocrinology visits and the all-day management of diet, shots and blood-drawing, I am going to be busy. I need to remember that the point of the not working thing is to RELAX. But that’s so much easier said than done. Even though we can’t really afford it, we’re still going to send Abby to daycare during the week so I really can try to get a little R&amp;amp;R.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just typing the recap is exhausting. I’ll upload some new pics of Abby as soon as I get a minute. For now, there’s a blood glucose meter calling my name…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-83497444459387657?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/83497444459387657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=83497444459387657' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/83497444459387657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/83497444459387657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/04/playing-catch-up.html' title='Playing Catch Up'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1869962320501833735</id><published>2009-04-09T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T11:04:44.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Here We Go Again!</title><content type='html'>On Tuesday night when Abby wanted to sit on my lap (or what's left of it) and snuggle I was immediately suspicious. The only time she is ever affectionate or wants to be held is when she is sick. I knew she was getting yet another bladder infection--even though she just finished her last round of antibiotics last week. She had a low-grade fever but I knew it wasn't just teething again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, yesterday, Granny Nanny came down and was able to take her to the pediatrician for me. I had an emergency root canal on Tuesday morning and with all the other craziness lately, I really couldn't miss any more work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt so guilty that I couldn't take her myself. But I have to admit that I was a tiny bit relieved not to have to endure her getting a catheter again. I know, it sounds so selfish but it's really torturous for me too. The results showed yet another infection! I called the specialist we're waiting to see and am got us bumped up to "overbook," meaning that they are going to make us an appointment but we may have a long wait once we are there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate watching her in pain, and fighting this all the time. Any adult that has had a bladder or kidney infection knows how awful it can be. Awful isn't even the right word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No kid is meant to be on antibiotics all the time. It upsets her tummy, and has created a twice daily "battle of the wills" between Abby and me when we have to PIN HER DOWN and shove the medicine down her throat. She won't even let me put her on the changing table without whimpering, even though most of the time it's to change a diaper. She now associates it with medication. As weird as it sounds, she's always LOVED having her diaper changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to waive my magic wand and fix her. It is breaking my heart. But since I can't I am putting out an APB prayer request: we need an appointment with the specialist SOON. Please pray that this is the last infection that she gets between now and that time. Please pray that the doc can think clearly and give us a diagnosis that is fixable and that he's able to give us some answers. Thanks for all of your love and support. I just want my happy little girl back!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-1869962320501833735?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1869962320501833735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1869962320501833735' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1869962320501833735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1869962320501833735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/04/here-we-go-again.html' title='Here We Go Again!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-2813956723827300215</id><published>2009-04-06T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T11:01:01.470-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big C</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SdpCxpn-osI/AAAAAAAAANk/3pIsrZElrls/s1600-h/ep90_charlotte_blackdress.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321639330446222018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 287px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SdpCxpn-osI/AAAAAAAAANk/3pIsrZElrls/s320/ep90_charlotte_blackdress.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a little bit of back and forth with my OB, I have decided to go with a scheduled C-section for punkypoo #2 (who until now, hasn't received more than the occasional shout-out on this blog.)*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was debating the "other" way for a while, but I am TERRIFIED of a repeat of Abby's induced birth. Let's recap:&lt;br /&gt;-12 hours of labor&lt;br /&gt;-a half-working epidural&lt;br /&gt;-all 10.5 pounds of her that wouldn't squeeze into the birth canal&lt;br /&gt;-the emergency c-section after they lost her heartbeat&lt;br /&gt;-an awful recovery exaggerated by a long and fruitless labor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that there is a lot of controversy around this topic, but I truly believe that women's lib should really be a woman having all the information available, then making the decision that's best for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after my futile attempts to breast feed Abby, I have also given myself permission to let this one go too if it doesn't work. I am not prepared for the blood and scabs and if it doesn't work for us, that's okay.  I am just going to try my hardest, but not punish myself if it doesn't work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there. As Charlotte says, "I choose my choice."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I'm sure as it all gets closer, there will be more posts and mentions of the impending little one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-2813956723827300215?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/2813956723827300215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=2813956723827300215' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2813956723827300215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2813956723827300215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/04/big-c.html' title='The Big C'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SdpCxpn-osI/AAAAAAAAANk/3pIsrZElrls/s72-c/ep90_charlotte_blackdress.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-460237304358038284</id><published>2009-03-27T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T13:08:05.482-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A little too close to home...</title><content type='html'>I am a BIG fan of grammar blogs. And while I probably run across enough material to start my own, I just don't have the time. But once in a while, a heinous error hits a little too close to home. My thoughtful husband sent me flowers at work for our anniversary earlier this month. He called 1-800-flowers and placed an order over the phone. When asked what he'd like the card to read, he dictated his sentiment over the phone. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But when the BEAUTIFUL flowers got to my desk, this is what the card said:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317961575220293490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 304px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sc0x4Hwur3I/AAAAAAAAANc/vYjz7qKMNZM/s400/card65.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder what the customer service rep thought "muchrob" was...&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/7061132191856879144-460237304358038284?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/460237304358038284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=460237304358038284' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/460237304358038284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/460237304358038284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-too-close-to-home.html' title='A little too close to home...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sc0x4Hwur3I/AAAAAAAAANc/vYjz7qKMNZM/s72-c/card65.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-6363060066244471235</id><published>2009-03-25T16:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T16:26:03.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So I'm Not Crazy: Sickypoo Part Two</title><content type='html'>The pediatrician just called and it turns out lil' Abby DOES have a kidney infection. I guess they sent the cath culture to the lab and it came back positive for a type of bacteria that their office screening kit doesn't pick up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in a weird way, it makes me feel better to know that there is really something wrong and that she's not just teething with 103 degree fever every night. Now they are referring us to a fantastic urologist--he's one of ours at CHOC. And I know we're in good hands--he's the guy that wrote the books about pediatric urology that our residents (and others across the globe) study.&lt;br /&gt;Even though her other studies came back fine a few months ago, she's worried that there might be another underlying cause that might be causing these recurrent infections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to play the Monday morning (or Wednesday afternoon) quarterback, but I KNEW there was something wrong. I know it's lame to invoke mother's intuition here, but I would have bet a million bucks that it wasn't just teething. And it feels extra defeating to have a doc tell you that everything is fine with your baby when you know in your heart it's not. I hear it all the time at work--stories of moms who had to fight tooth and nail to get their kid's doc to believe that there really was something wrong, only to find out later that it is something serious that was overlooked or misdiagnosed by the primary care doc. But then again, I only hear the horror stories of the kids that end up in the hospital, so I have to try and keep it in perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is going to sound so selfish: I am so incredibly tired of her being sick. I'm sure she is too! So bottoms up to yet ANOTHER round of antibiotics.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-6363060066244471235?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/6363060066244471235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=6363060066244471235' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6363060066244471235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6363060066244471235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-im-not-crazy-sickypoo-part-two.html' title='So I&apos;m Not Crazy: Sickypoo Part Two'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-8255796923304436054</id><published>2009-03-24T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T09:00:39.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Sickypoo Abbygoo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316958104071507938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/ScmhOabRD-I/AAAAAAAAAM0/DeTo9vAk_Dk/s320/2009_0220AGDbdayetc0010.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="left"&gt;Abby got a high fever AGAIN yesterday, so I called my folks (since it was an early evening appointment and Rob was stuck at work) and begged them to come with me to take her to the pediatrician. Because she has a history of rip-roaring kidney infections, they usually end up doing a catheter to get a urine sample, since she can't exactly pee in a cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I know it isn't a picnic for her, but it is REALLY hard on me too. My job as the "momma" is to simultaneously help the nurses pin her down and try to soothe her. Meanwhile, she is fighting against us, crying and looking deep in my eyes as if to say "Why have you BETRAYED me!!???" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316956247671816066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/ScmfiWzFv4I/AAAAAAAAAMs/048sYjgca34/s320/2009_0220AGDbdayetc0006.JPG" border="0" /&gt; (Grandpa and Abby waiting for the doc to come in.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I think it's the one-two punch of seeing my lil' baby in so much pain, and the pregnancy hormones racing through my veins. It usually results in both of us crying. It's a pretty sad sight. So my dad agreed to go in with me for emotional support. But when the nurse came to take us to the procedure room, she said that there was only room for one adult. WHAT?! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So my emotional safety net (dad) stayed back and Abby and I went in. I know, I'm trying to kick the bottle habit, but it seemed to help.After all that, it turns out that she doesn't have a kidney infection. Which is a blessing. But with an unexplained high fever, we're just going to "wait and see." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;But that might help explain some of her crazy middle-of-the-night antics as of late. We were up again all night last night. But for now, she's conked out. So now I ask, why am I still up typing when I should be sleeping? Just a few more misc photos and I really am off to bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316956239175615490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Scmfh3JcBAI/AAAAAAAAAMc/fbIMAVi4mTI/s320/2009_0220AGDbdayetc0002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Uncle Miles came over for lunch on Sunday. Abby just loves him:) He's so good with kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316958109673669426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/ScmhOvS7QzI/AAAAAAAAAM8/z_zHoflmaoo/s320/2009_0213AGDbdayetc0170.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316958114573279490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/ScmhPBjFYQI/AAAAAAAAANM/Q7yO_Kr7_CE/s320/2009_0213AGDbdayetc0182.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316958113994062498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/ScmhO_Y_OqI/AAAAAAAAANE/6P8Vb_tXXGM/s320/2009_0213AGDbdayetc0177.JPG" border="0" /&gt; We went to the park around the corner a couple of weekends ago and tried out the swings. It seemed very unsafe so we made sure Granny or Grandpat were within arm's reach. Here she is with her lil' push/ride along toy. She is her father's daughter. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316956248135175474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/ScmfiYhkDTI/AAAAAAAAAMk/kX3Da4foWfE/s320/2009_0220AGDbdayetc0004.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;She really likes to find odd places to have a bottle. Exhibit A.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-8255796923304436054?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/8255796923304436054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=8255796923304436054' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8255796923304436054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8255796923304436054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/03/little-sickypoo-abbygoo.html' title='Little Sickypoo Abbygoo'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/ScmhOabRD-I/AAAAAAAAAM0/DeTo9vAk_Dk/s72-c/2009_0220AGDbdayetc0010.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1839150229937842850</id><published>2009-03-23T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T13:56:44.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Wonder Sleep Depravation is Used As a Form of Wartime Torture</title><content type='html'>Let's face it. Things around here are busy and getting busier. We've had an incredibly busy and hectic month, with lots of ups and downs. I'm not going to lie--I'll be happy to see the month end next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abby is finally teething, which makes me happy (READ: glad that she isn't teething in 11 weeks when we also have a screaming newborn). But I am in a sort of downward spiral. She has stopped sleeping for longer than a two-hour spurt at night. And she doesn't just wake up with a whimper. It's a full-fledged, teary howl that is enough to push even the most sane (which I don't claim to be) mom over the edge. Poor Abby, she's got five teeth coming in all at the same time. I'd be fussy, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It isn't like I can look forward and say "at least in June I'll be able to sleep." I am thinking a little more long term, like "when the girls are in college and don't live here anymore, I'll be able to sleep."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just because she screams and keeps me up all night, it doesn't mean that I get to skip work the next day. Professional Pam is supposed to show up looking put together. In clean, pressed business clothes, and shoes that aren't Uggs or Old Navy flip flops. As my belly grows, it's getting harder to fit into anything that looks presentable, or shoes that fit. And the WORST part is that I have a job that requires focus and brainpower. So the whole half-asleep thing doesn't really fly. But I make it work because I have to--even though by the time Friday night comes, I find myself literally thanking God that I didn't keel over that week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dear friend here at CHOC (who shall remain nameless) told me once that she had a plan to shut her office door and take a nap under her desk, a la George Costanza. She would take a handful of paperclips with her so that if someone came in or knocked, she could simply explain that she had dropped the paperclips under her desk and she was picking them up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so many pictures to post, but they are very random and spread out over the last month. I promise to upload some recent pics with some quirky photo captions sometime in the next couple of days. But if you need me in the meantime, I'll just be here under my desk picking up paperclips.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-1839150229937842850?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1839150229937842850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1839150229937842850' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1839150229937842850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1839150229937842850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/03/no-wonder-sleep-depravation-is-used-as.html' title='No Wonder Sleep Depravation is Used As a Form of Wartime Torture'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-4237214475285854064</id><published>2009-03-16T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T21:18:50.637-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Little One</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sb8j9JhXo9I/AAAAAAAAAMM/mPN8luer5AE/s1600-h/blog6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314005618755347410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sb8j9JhXo9I/AAAAAAAAAMM/mPN8luer5AE/s200/blog6.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Happy Birthday, Abbygoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t believe that it’s been a year since you charged into our lives and hearts. To say that we love you is an understatement. You have brought us joy, hope and a closeness we’ve never experienced!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s to another fabulous 99! We love you dearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Xoxo,&lt;br /&gt;Mommy and Daddy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a quick recap of how you spent your first birthday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were both feeling under-the-weather today with tummy aches. After a very tearful slumber party with the two of us in the spare bedroom, we were very tired this morning. I called the pediatrician, Dr. Cater, and they were able to fit you in. Little did mommy know that they were going to lump your “1 year well visit” into this one, so you ended up pumped full of shots. We were both glad that Granny Nanny was there to lend a hand since mommy wasn’t feeling well, and mommy does not do well with shots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, you were mad. I don’t blame you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314002177933816594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sb8g03dlsxI/AAAAAAAAALs/v29IQIIjF9s/s200/blog1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, you were a little better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314002986704651330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sb8hj8XlREI/AAAAAAAAAL0/HuwSBXmBI5o/s200/blog2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we got home, we both took long naps while Granny Nanny held down the fort. Sometimes mommy needs to be taken care of too:) And when you woke up from your nap, you were very fussy. You little thunder thighs were probably sore from the shots…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made you a yummy dinner of your favorite finger-sized pastas. You had a good time eating it, you always do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314004367646546962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sb8i0UxyXBI/AAAAAAAAAL8/RCje-DUvuRU/s200/blog4.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you were very tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314004372300723890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sb8i0mHbdrI/AAAAAAAAAME/hvXBdg4xePE/s200/blog5.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Once we cleaned up the spaghetti mess, I chased you around the house as you ran in circles. And after Daddy got home from work, you went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314005627029370770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sb8j9oWDN5I/AAAAAAAAAMU/4nQ7AGLGXtM/s200/blog7.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post Uncle Chris's pictures from your party tomorrow, Mommy is tired and has to go to bed. Love you little one. For everyone else, here's the link to Chris's site: &lt;a href="http://photos.christopherwrenphoto.com/gallery/7603344_xcEw7#491604784_xVTUk"&gt;http://photos.christopherwrenphoto.com/gallery/7603344_xcEw7#491604784_xVTUk&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-4237214475285854064?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/4237214475285854064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=4237214475285854064' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/4237214475285854064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/4237214475285854064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/03/happy-birthday-little-one.html' title='Happy Birthday Little One'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/Sb8j9JhXo9I/AAAAAAAAAMM/mPN8luer5AE/s72-c/blog6.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3080001096062159723</id><published>2009-03-06T13:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T13:18:14.072-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma Bernice</title><content type='html'>Early yesterday morning, Grandma Bernice went home to be the Lord. Thanks for all of your prayers and uplifting thoughts. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310186731416783042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SbGSspkXCMI/AAAAAAAAALg/TPcq5fv0Mks/s320/chris_abby_disc_2_062.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310186723929012946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SbGSsNrIutI/AAAAAAAAALY/qPZm2bgBQSk/s320/chris_abby_disc_2_058.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I've posted a couple of photos of Abby's first Easter, with Grandma. I have more recent photos (in earlier posts) but these are some of my favorite. We love her and will certainly miss her.&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/7061132191856879144-3080001096062159723?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3080001096062159723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3080001096062159723' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3080001096062159723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3080001096062159723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/03/grandma-bernice.html' title='Grandma Bernice'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SbGSspkXCMI/AAAAAAAAALg/TPcq5fv0Mks/s72-c/chris_abby_disc_2_062.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-8842132937374593168</id><published>2009-03-02T21:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T22:06:41.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tough Times</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;The De Jong family has sure been through a lot lately. Rob's Grandma Benice has been very ill, passing in and out of consciousness in the Intensive Care Unit. And it's with a heavy heart that I share the news that tomorrow, she'll be removed from the breathing machine that's kept her going. Needless to say, the De Jong family needs your prayers as they wade through a lot of very complicated decisions. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;These are circumstances beyond our control and that it's truly God's plan for all of this to be happening at the same time. And even if I wanted to change the outcome, I couldn't. And I stopped for a moment to thank God that it's Him in charge, not me. It always seems that in times like these we are forced, through circumstance, to reevaluate what's really important. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And Rob's sister Kim gave birth last week to a happy and healthy baby boy, Nathan John Rockhold. But her delivery wasn't without complications. She actually ended up spending the night in the ICU in the room NEXT to Grandma Bernice. The irony wasn't lost on me--watching a brand new life enter the world, juxtaposed with a very serious illness.  But even amidst all of the uncertainty of it all, I was overcome with a very profound sense of peace. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When we're born, we don't know if we'll have 100 days on this earth, or 100 years. And it's a healthy reminder to stay focused on the big picture, and not get bogged down in the small stuff. With everything we're going through right now, knowing that the outcome is all part of God's plan for us is such a comforting thought. The Bible teaches that the only productive thing to do with worry is to pray about it, then let it go. And then refocus your energy on staying positive (Philippians 4: 6-9)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's very cheesy, I LOVE that Irving Berlin song that Bing Crosby sang in White Christmas, called "Count Your Blessings." I often sing it to Abby as a lullaby: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I'm worried and I can't sleep, I count my blessings instead of sheep. And I fall asleep counting my blessings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When my bankroll is getting small, I think of when I had none at all. And I fall asleep counting my blessings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads, and one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you're worried and you can't sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep. And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-8842132937374593168?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/8842132937374593168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=8842132937374593168' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8842132937374593168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8842132937374593168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/03/tough-times.html' title='Tough Times'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-5626428898021733330</id><published>2009-03-01T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T11:07:58.640-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bath time!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcThSLogI/AAAAAAAAALQ/xxIF-GkINss/s1600-h/bath+4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308297338719805954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcThSLogI/AAAAAAAAALQ/xxIF-GkINss/s320/bath+4.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I finally took some photos of our little butterball in the bathtub. Not just for the blog, but to save for her teen years when they'll be extra embarrassing. Like my dad says, "It's wonderful to finally be able to be an embarrassment to my children."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a ton, but I saved the full-frontal ones for our private collection. This blog is public-facing and the world is FULL of weirdos. I guess that's the paranoia inflicted on me by Oprah. Here are some with strategically-placed bubbles, toys and washcloths.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so happy the day that she had enough hair to make the obligatory bath-time mohawk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcTHuNdPI/AAAAAAAAALI/nN78xDvCWFw/s1600-h/bath+3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308297331858044146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcTHuNdPI/AAAAAAAAALI/nN78xDvCWFw/s320/bath+3.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcSqHNeJI/AAAAAAAAALA/sqvvCJbh6ns/s1600-h/bath+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308297323909838994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcSqHNeJI/AAAAAAAAALA/sqvvCJbh6ns/s320/bath+1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcRkeSZpI/AAAAAAAAAK4/TI2cv0bSFZo/s1600-h/bath2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308297305216149138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcRkeSZpI/AAAAAAAAAK4/TI2cv0bSFZo/s320/bath2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-5626428898021733330?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/5626428898021733330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=5626428898021733330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/5626428898021733330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/5626428898021733330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/03/bath-time.html' title='Bath time!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SarcThSLogI/AAAAAAAAALQ/xxIF-GkINss/s72-c/bath+4.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-6010839706465812816</id><published>2009-02-23T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T20:31:54.875-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Now that's a big bottle!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SaN4E9pvG4I/AAAAAAAAAKw/22izXJi5wd0/s1600-h/milk.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306216812637002626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SaN4E9pvG4I/AAAAAAAAAKw/22izXJi5wd0/s320/milk.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The other night, Rob, Abby and I made a quick turnaround trip to Target. Abby was in the cart, which was full in the back. So Rob stuck a gallon of milk next to Abby in the kiddie seat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her eyes got SO wide. She promptly wrapped her arms around it, slouched over and put her little lips around the lid. She started making a very loud sucking and slurping noise. When I shrieked in horror, she looked up at me like "What? I thought this was for me." I was laughing so hard, that I couldn't capture the actual moment on my phone cam. But you get the idea. I think she's going to be a compulsive milk drinker like her daddy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-6010839706465812816?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/6010839706465812816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=6010839706465812816' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6010839706465812816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6010839706465812816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/02/now-thats-big-bottle.html' title='Now that&apos;s a big bottle!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SaN4E9pvG4I/AAAAAAAAAKw/22izXJi5wd0/s72-c/milk.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-8081736003115628365</id><published>2009-02-18T20:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T20:26:07.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mini-Vacay</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzfEHr8d9I/AAAAAAAAAKo/h-uuMkOHFwg/s1600-h/2009_01140128.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzcbGWJ33I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/mp0cIlLIpxE/s1600-h/ocean1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304356819253714802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzcbGWJ33I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/mp0cIlLIpxE/s320/ocean1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our family took a mini-vacay to Oceanside last weekend. Believe it or not, this was the first trip we've been on as a little family unit all by ourselves. We've had other overnight adventures, but never just the three of us. And it was really fun. I felt so grown up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My VERY gracious parents allowed us access to their timeshare in Oceanside. Things have been pretty freaking hectic around here, so Rob and I really didn't even wanted to go. It all seemed like too much trouble with everything else that has been going on. And it was POURING rain. The wipers couldn't keep up and we couldn't see a thing. It was really scary driving down there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But once we were there, we were really glad we went. I find that is usually the case with vacations. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got there later than Abby's usual bedtime, so she screamed for a good 45 minutes. But then she settled down and slept all night. When she woke up in the morning, we had some really awesome quiet time together. Everyday that my belly grows, I am more and more aware that my time alone time with my precious daughter is winding down. I just love her so much and we had a blast just sharing the morning together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304356802788375874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzcaJAgvUI/AAAAAAAAAJw/AD1GOjoYVjw/s320/ocean3.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304356806131218274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzcaVdgd2I/AAAAAAAAAKA/Kaf26_0-jUM/s320/2009_01140111.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;She talked to me all about what she was eating and the new things she wanted to explore in the unit. Well, that's what I imagined. What she really said was "da da da da da da." But that is her word for Rob, and EVERYTHING else. I'm actually glad he slept in. I'm really starting to cherish this time alone time with Abby that I don't ever get enough of. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304356803701097010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzcaMaHwjI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/CNkWqTN0HSA/s320/ocean4.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After breakfast, Abby explored the kitchen--removing all of the contents for her noisemaking pleasure. It was so cute, she was trying to crawl around with those giant utensils in her hands. It reminded me of walking with skis on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, we went out for lunch. Abby dumped most of her lunch on the floor. I feel bad that she makes such a tornado-like mess wherever we go, but Rob says that we are stimulating the economy by creating jobs for people to sweep the floors...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304356812055805538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzcariCfmI/AAAAAAAAAKI/EuTQKvTJYPY/s320/ocean2.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Abby LOVED the vertical blinds. She's never sit this still and focused on anything for this long. We don't have them at home, so everything new is exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304358486002306658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzd8Hd_DmI/AAAAAAAAAKY/ko0L4ZU338k/s320/abbyrob.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Daddy and our little cow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-8081736003115628365?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/8081736003115628365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=8081736003115628365' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8081736003115628365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8081736003115628365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/02/mini-vacay.html' title='Mini-Vacay'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZzcbGWJ33I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/mp0cIlLIpxE/s72-c/ocean1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-9193613316499932530</id><published>2009-02-16T13:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T13:27:24.634-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a New Day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So, as promised, I am posting pictures from the new camera. It wasn't super expensive, but my standards are pretty low as far as that kind of thing is concerned. I just expect that it actually take pictures, which compared to my last one, is a big improvement. I've had it for a week, and I've taken over 200 pictures! Don't worry, I can't (and won't) post them all here. But I think it gives me plenty of material to make lots of blog posts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the first one, just a bit of hodge-podge:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303507724996845842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZnYLTv6IRI/AAAAAAAAAJI/uNJEQt0B6v4/s320/2009_01140014.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Abby walks, she looks like Godzilla. I can just hear the teeny tiny people fleeing at her feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303508310161900690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZnYtXqIRJI/AAAAAAAAAJY/YKK71QVpdJA/s320/godzilla.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303509448009532546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZnZvmeJRII/AAAAAAAAAJg/m3z0-4gicTI/s320/home1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303509860205436354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZnaHmBTncI/AAAAAAAAAJo/yBsnWeoT5cE/s320/sideye.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-9193613316499932530?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/9193613316499932530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=9193613316499932530' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/9193613316499932530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/9193613316499932530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/02/its-new-day.html' title='It&apos;s a New Day!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SZnYLTv6IRI/AAAAAAAAAJI/uNJEQt0B6v4/s72-c/2009_01140014.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3440711576482208861</id><published>2009-02-01T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T21:05:06.742-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yummy Gummy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SYZ96qZhj5I/AAAAAAAAAJA/_Wk4YdpHODw/s1600-h/gummilight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298060458415198098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SYZ96qZhj5I/AAAAAAAAAJA/_Wk4YdpHODw/s320/gummilight.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Now I know this is third non-Abby related post in a row. But the GREAT news is I got a new camera today and will be posting real-life photos this week. Girl Scout's honor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I couldn't resist. I found this gummi bear chandelier on geekologie.com. It's by artist YaYa Chou. Too bad that's only enough gummies to last me about a week. I've been on a binge lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I heard once that if you lick the back of a gummi bear and stick it to a wall, it will stay there forever. A former coworker of mine and I tried this a few years ago. I bet it isn't there anymore, not because it fell off, simply because some poor soul stumbled upon it and was so grossed out it had to be taken down. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But this gets me thinking, what other decorative items could be fashioned out of food? Big-league-chew shag carpeting? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A quick google search came back with this egg couch. Seems to me it could get real smelly real fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298060354040343762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 209px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SYZ90lknrNI/AAAAAAAAAIw/qJc7lSnKVa4/s320/egg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-3440711576482208861?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3440711576482208861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3440711576482208861' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3440711576482208861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3440711576482208861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/02/yummy-gummy.html' title='Yummy Gummy'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SYZ96qZhj5I/AAAAAAAAAJA/_Wk4YdpHODw/s72-c/gummilight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-5982069058018489059</id><published>2009-01-29T20:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T20:50:35.003-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Parking Wars</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SYKG_ytgFJI/AAAAAAAAAIo/n8D2oxC2uqs/s1600-h/232401868_11b958e9ab.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296944542243624082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SYKG_ytgFJI/AAAAAAAAAIo/n8D2oxC2uqs/s320/232401868_11b958e9ab.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I came out to the parking structure after a doctor's appointment earlier this week, I was sent into an ANGRY RAGE. That's really the only way to describe it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some jerk in a Ford Excursion had parked so close to me on the drivers side that our rear-view mirrors were literally stacked on top of each other. There was NO way I was going to squeeze in the driver's side door--even if I wasn't preggo. I was so mad. Mad isn't even the right word. I was even in a spot marked "compact." I tried to climb over the through the passenger side, but I bumped my belly on the gearshift so hard that I have a still have a bruise. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Meanwhile, Abby is strapped in the back and starting to get fussy. I had to find some RANDOM guy walking by to climb over the seat for me and pull my car out. I wanted to use my keys to etch words into the side of that stupid SUV I can't type here on the family-friendly blog. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-5982069058018489059?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/5982069058018489059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=5982069058018489059' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/5982069058018489059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/5982069058018489059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/01/parking-wars.html' title='Parking Wars'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SYKG_ytgFJI/AAAAAAAAAIo/n8D2oxC2uqs/s72-c/232401868_11b958e9ab.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-6655673462410731354</id><published>2009-01-26T19:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T19:30:08.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking on the Ox!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SX5_j6jEzkI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qn1jykkZDFU/s1600-h/chinese-new-year-ox%5B1%5D.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295810466822803010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SX5_j6jEzkI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qn1jykkZDFU/s320/chinese-new-year-ox%5B1%5D.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"January 26, 2009 marks Chinese New Year, and also the beginning of the Year of the Earth Ox in Chinese Astrology. The Chinese sign of the Ox evokes stability and dependability. The Ox is a practical work animal, while the Earth element is steady and firm. Together, they create a kind of plodding energy that can be exasperating. " &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's how the "experts" are summing up the change in the Chinese New Year. Exasperating, plodding energy? Check and check. But here's where it gets worrisome...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Creative professionals may have a lean year in 2009. Actors, journalists, writers, models and dancers will have to work extra hard to find jobs, as such work seems superfluous to the ultra-practical Earth Ox."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Smells like trouble for a writer like me. I'd like to think of us creative types as the glue holding this frazzled country together. A visit to the movies offers a welcome respite from the chaos of real life. And could you imagine the last couple of weeks without our dear journalists???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Superfluous? I don't think so. So fellow wordies and grammar geeks unite--here's to showing the Earth Ox a thing or two! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On a side note, the Chinese gender predictor (based on the Chinese Lunar calendar) said I would have boys both times. And so far, two girls. So maybe it isn't totally scientific.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-6655673462410731354?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/6655673462410731354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=6655673462410731354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6655673462410731354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6655673462410731354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/01/taking-on-ox.html' title='Taking on the Ox!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SX5_j6jEzkI/AAAAAAAAAIg/qn1jykkZDFU/s72-c/chinese-new-year-ox%5B1%5D.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-8083621532153281988</id><published>2009-01-21T20:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T20:08:58.233-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Apple Doesn't Fall Far...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SXfwldbIq8I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/eIe-1v2EbDs/s1600-h/photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293964413341576130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SXfwldbIq8I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/eIe-1v2EbDs/s320/photo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Granny Nanny, Abby and I went to "The Desert" this weekend to visit Aunti Kelly and Uncle Johnny. We spent an afternoon at the mall, and Abby had a great time. She's really getting the hang of high chairs and it's pretty cute. And who doesn't love a mid-afternoon snack of Cheerios and her first lil' bit of a Cinnabon? Dee-lish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as we passed racks of clothes at Baby Gap, Abby grabbed her favorites and held them in her lap. Too bad she's not a boy's size 3T. Oh well.&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/7061132191856879144-8083621532153281988?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/8083621532153281988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=8083621532153281988' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8083621532153281988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8083621532153281988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/01/apple-doesnt-fall-far.html' title='The Apple Doesn&apos;t Fall Far...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SXfwldbIq8I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/eIe-1v2EbDs/s72-c/photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-2542495016159622103</id><published>2009-01-07T20:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T20:45:40.545-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Resolutions of a Commitmentphobe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWWEo4oGAuI/AAAAAAAAAII/abIuyBrAmxE/s1600-h/n707629261_1268061_2825.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288779175346701026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWWEo4oGAuI/AAAAAAAAAII/abIuyBrAmxE/s320/n707629261_1268061_2825.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Inspired by my friend dear friend Lisa at BabiesinDisneyland.com, I am going to post my New Year's resolutions in a public place where maybe I'll be more accountable. I realize that this can all sound very trite, so I am trying to keep this to a minimum of goals that are actually achievable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288773115747058466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWV_IK29QyI/AAAAAAAAAIA/oEyhvnmQxBU/s320/DSCN0850.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Be more "present" when it comes to the limited time I get with Abby. Between being EXHAUSTED after a long day at work, and her newfound love of actually going to sleep at a reasonable hour, on any given weekday I only get to spend 2 or 3 hours with her. So let's do some quick math--that makes 12.5% of my day. And that's on a good day. But I am so tired all the time (thanks to baby #2) and from dealing with Abby's overnight cries when she does wake up at about 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I find that by the time I get home, I am wiped out and it's easy to just put her on the floor to play and zone out. Or count the minutes until she actually goes to bed so I can relax. But I am suddenly very aware that my alone time with Abby is ticking down, and that I need to really engage her and enjoy the time we have just the two of us. I know that I'll love this new baby just as much as I love Abby. But right now, that's hard to imagine. So I want to soak up every last minute that we have together before life gets even more complicated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. I need to spend more time with my friends who have kids. It can be hard to find the time (or energy) to make plans, but the result is that I end up feeling isolated. The truth is that I know I'm not the only woman who has ever become a mother and worked full time, but it's nice to have friends to commiserate with. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Rob and I really need to spend more quality time together. He has been working really long hours to keep us all afloat. And I have plenty of other stuff going on to keep me busy. But I miss him and I miss who we used to be. And I know it's never going to be the same, I mean, we are somebody's PARENTS now! But I really want to focus on making our limited interactions more meaningful. And we need to find a way to be loving and supportive of each other, even when we are both so stressed and tired.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. We need to get back to church. I know that God has to be at the center of our lives for anything to work at all. And He still is. But I know that "the devil does his work on Sunday morning." I can always find a reason why we shouldn't go. And our attendance has been hit or miss since Abby has been born. But I want to raise my children in a Christian home, with parents who are solid in their faith and walking the walk. In our busy lives, it might just provide us with the quality family time I've been yearning for. I also find that even if I don't feel like going when we leave the house, after the service is over I am ALWAYS glad that I went. For me, it's always a safe place to put my guard down and be reminded that I don't have to be in charge of everything all the time. And praise God for that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there. Like Lisa said, it's out there for everyone to see. Wish me (well, us) luck.&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/7061132191856879144-2542495016159622103?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/2542495016159622103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=2542495016159622103' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2542495016159622103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2542495016159622103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-years-resolutions-of.html' title='New Year&apos;s Resolutions of a Commitmentphobe'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWWEo4oGAuI/AAAAAAAAAII/abIuyBrAmxE/s72-c/n707629261_1268061_2825.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-2623438317631448513</id><published>2009-01-04T20:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T21:06:37.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy Christmas!</title><content type='html'>I know, this post is really belated. But things around here have been VERY busy. We plowed through the Holidays, full steam ahead, even amongst dueling illnesses and daycare drama. And we went on Abby's maiden voyage in the motorhome for the long New Year's weekend. Which we will not be doing again anytime soon, she is way to wiggly to be trapped in a motorhome in the desert all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But all in all, it was a fantastic time. And I am REALLY sad to announce that there might not be many posts in the near future. My camera has died, and our kick you-know-what video camera has also somehow kicked the bucket. I can still count on the Brashear stalkerazzi to record Abby's every move, it's just harder to get the pics onto my laptop and onto this blog. But check back once in a while. I promise to fix the camera situashe ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here are some pictures of little Abby's first Christmas present--she's opening it with Grandpa Bob.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287661953117105314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWGMh_fkrKI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/1XDsjLbhEfs/s320/DSCN0884.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287665714104187154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWGP86QxORI/AAAAAAAAAHw/aAbSW2hVl2s/s320/DSCN0883.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Here's a picture of the pure-blood De Jongs. Remember, if it ain't Dutch, it ain't much! That's Abby's Great Grandma Bernice (Beppa) and Grandpa Bob, Daddy Rob, Auntie Kim and her cousins Mason and Grant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287662782307706706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWGNSQeBJ1I/AAAAAAAAAHg/vSKQnCyruF0/s320/DSCN0879.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a little walker-thingy that Abby got from, ehm, Santa. Since she's been toddling around, it is perfect for her to practice. But she still needs a little help now and then. She hasn't figured out that it's easier to walk if you aren't on your tippy toes all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287662793629143570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWGNS6pQkhI/AAAAAAAAAHo/dYsfxbRAwUs/s320/DSCN0888.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;For good measure, I thought that I would throw in a picture of Abby from Halloween that never made it onto the blog. Rob, Abby and I went to "Boo at the Zoo" here at the Santa Ana Zoo. Abby had a great time, but Rob and I were sorta bummed that there weren't any actual animals to be found. I guess it's just trick-or-treating for the little ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture was from Abby's first carosel ride...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287662758080900722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWGNQ2N5bnI/AAAAAAAAAHY/ooFc-ktGdXY/s320/DSCN0859.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287671256763292578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWGU_iRrW6I/AAAAAAAAAH4/hvMjuqmAbpo/s320/DSCN0856.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-2623438317631448513?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/2623438317631448513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=2623438317631448513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2623438317631448513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2623438317631448513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2009/01/crazy-christmas.html' title='Crazy Christmas!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SWGMh_fkrKI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/1XDsjLbhEfs/s72-c/DSCN0884.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-2479303046435059846</id><published>2008-12-16T19:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T19:32:03.271-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 9 months, little one!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SUhyUAPONfI/AAAAAAAAAHA/MQcc9Ro8TRU/s1600-h/430097968_img_5749.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280596251078702578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SUhyUAPONfI/AAAAAAAAAHA/MQcc9Ro8TRU/s320/430097968_img_5749.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Abby,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's official! You've now been on the "outside" for longer than you were on the "inside!" In the last month, your hair has started to really sprout. And you can walk and take some steps when you hang on to stuff. And perhaps the most adorable talent is your babbling and newfound excitement for trying out the English language. Or whatever language it is that you speak. I love the words that are interrupted by a quick raspberry or the ones with no vowels at all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love you and I love the incredible little person that you become more each day. You are going to make a great big sister! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;xoxo,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mommy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280595437099297618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SUhxkn7aK1I/AAAAAAAAAG4/bQcf8VICixw/s320/430084656_img_5580-edit.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the rest of you...here are some pictures from our first-ever Christmas portrait photo shoot. You'll see a few of these on our Christmas card, but here's a sneak peek. Thanks Uncle Chris, Auntie Masha and everybody else that helped Abby to smile! &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280594925474521538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SUhxG1-jocI/AAAAAAAAAGw/7TXkWFeiVGU/s320/430071306_img_5415.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-2479303046435059846?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/2479303046435059846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=2479303046435059846' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2479303046435059846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2479303046435059846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/12/happy-9-months-little-one.html' title='Happy 9 months, little one!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SUhyUAPONfI/AAAAAAAAAHA/MQcc9Ro8TRU/s72-c/430097968_img_5749.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1570543763377157400</id><published>2008-11-30T20:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T20:16:19.107-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween in November. Well, December.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/STNjO-jGJ1I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/SYSPobDSfh8/s1600-h/424719574_momscamera_0061.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274668697540503378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/STNjO-jGJ1I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/SYSPobDSfh8/s320/424719574_momscamera_0061.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Here are some VERY belated pictures of lil' Abby's first Halloween! We had a great time--Granny Nanny came over and we passed out candy to the local kids and she wore TWO different costumes. They were both hand-me-downs, but still almost brand new and really cute!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274670379697137762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/STNkw5EfaGI/AAAAAAAAAGo/ieuCayXrpzQ/s320/424715913_momscamera_0054.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry for the delay, these were trapped in my mom's camera. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274669735131832370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/STNkLX4JYDI/AAAAAAAAAGg/j34JzJVsi2U/s320/424711049_momscamera_0049.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, Grandpa Bob stopped by for a minute too! Or, Grandbob and I like to call him:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-1570543763377157400?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1570543763377157400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1570543763377157400' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1570543763377157400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1570543763377157400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/11/halloween-in-november-well-december.html' title='Halloween in November. Well, December.'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/STNjO-jGJ1I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/SYSPobDSfh8/s72-c/424719574_momscamera_0061.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-911300876336899941</id><published>2008-11-19T20:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T20:09:58.689-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A More Personal Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SSTjBDmaZvI/AAAAAAAAAGI/wHVNdegFtDA/s1600-h/418229385_rob%27s_party-66.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270587071216117490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SSTjBDmaZvI/AAAAAAAAAGI/wHVNdegFtDA/s320/418229385_rob%27s_party-66.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Abby turned eight months old on Sunday. And it just got me thinking about how much things have changed over the last year and what a journey it’s been for our little family. From pretty early on in my pregnancy with Abby, I had serious complications. In fact, at one point in the beginning, a doctor told me to just go home, stay in bed, relax (yeah, right) and wait for the inevitable miscarriage. In her true-grit style, Abby fought her way into this world, and into my heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;According to the “Church of Orpah,” as Rob calls it, every experince we have here on earth is meant to teach us something. And I could write volumes on what I’ve learned from this little 19 (yes, 19) pound meatloaf in the last eight months, and the nine months before that. But I’ll keep it short:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. No matter how hard I try, I am not in control of ANYTHING. And it really is much easier if you can let go and trust in God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Germs are inevitable. There just simply isn’t enough Purell in theworld…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. I never thought I was capable of such deep and unselfsish love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. I really do wonder what I did with all of my time before I had her. And who knew that I celebrate going to bed at 9 pm?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. I respect my parents and love them in an entirely new way. I am my mom’s Abby! (That didn’t make much sense, but you know what I mean)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Who’d have ever thought that I would be so interested in poop??!!??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Abby has really opened my eyes and deepened my connection to my job at CHOC. And I kiss her everyday when I pick her up from daycare and tell her how grateful I am that she is in my life—and that she’s healthy and thriving. Talk about perspective.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-911300876336899941?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/911300876336899941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=911300876336899941' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/911300876336899941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/911300876336899941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/11/more-personal-post.html' title='A More Personal Post'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SSTjBDmaZvI/AAAAAAAAAGI/wHVNdegFtDA/s72-c/418229385_rob%27s_party-66.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3127431985952339718</id><published>2008-11-16T20:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T20:35:21.934-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rob's Big 3-0!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SSDy19h9qFI/AAAAAAAAAF4/6B2wtGcJjlw/s1600-h/418227217_rob%27s_party-63.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269478572887484498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SSDy19h9qFI/AAAAAAAAAF4/6B2wtGcJjlw/s320/418227217_rob%27s_party-63.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We had a party for Rob's big milestone a few weeks ago. My brother was our pro-bono photographer and we just got some of the pics back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269477968166510050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SSDySwxP3eI/AAAAAAAAAFw/-gUS6AJasbw/s320/418231697_rob%27s_party-69.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; I know it's funny to see Abby in a frilly dress--but when else are we going to use them? She has a whole closet full!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269479101098391746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SSDzUtRQeMI/AAAAAAAAAGA/6pGXc1gisq4/s320/418265460_rob%27s_party-124.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS It's Abby 8 month "birthday" today! I can't believe how fast it's gone! I'll post more on that later...&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-3127431985952339718?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3127431985952339718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3127431985952339718' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3127431985952339718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3127431985952339718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/11/robs-big-3-0.html' title='Rob&apos;s Big 3-0!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SSDy19h9qFI/AAAAAAAAAF4/6B2wtGcJjlw/s72-c/418227217_rob%27s_party-63.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3873574705234370633</id><published>2008-11-06T20:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T20:11:59.932-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Pictures</title><content type='html'>I realize I totally skipped Abby's First Halloween, but the pics are on my mom's camera, so stay tuned. In the meantime, Uncle Chris took some really cute pics of Abby (and the other kids) when he and Auntie Masha babysat last weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quick update--Abby just pulled herself up to standing all by herself the other night! She's really a little whirlwind of developmental milestones lately. I am so proud:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265762071780188642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SRO-tIAu4eI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Jg5XvvMQUpE/s320/n707629261_1043945_1819.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265762341040041570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SRO-8zFSLmI/AAAAAAAAAFY/e1MF4Zn4fwM/s320/n707629261_1043939_490.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265762245076432514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SRO-3NlxtoI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/tne9sWguLvs/s320/n707629261_1043936_21.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265762405629773554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SRO_AjsrRvI/AAAAAAAAAFg/8c6OwDPdLBA/s320/n707629261_1043942_1149.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265762861328248770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SRO_bFTqL8I/AAAAAAAAAFo/cmlTLHvgw_A/s320/n707629261_1043948_2505.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-3873574705234370633?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3873574705234370633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3873574705234370633' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3873574705234370633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3873574705234370633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-pictures.html' title='New Pictures'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SRO-tIAu4eI/AAAAAAAAAFI/Jg5XvvMQUpE/s72-c/n707629261_1043945_1819.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-6409427727492697595</id><published>2008-10-29T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T20:19:08.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Phony Balogna</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SQknJHUm7SI/AAAAAAAAAFA/uhq9Nn0IKUE/s1600-h/bottle.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262780677096926498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SQknJHUm7SI/AAAAAAAAAFA/uhq9Nn0IKUE/s320/bottle.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; After all this time of Abby "pretending" that she didn't know how to hold her own bottle, she finally realized that the gig is up. Her sitter let me in on the secret. Here she is showing off and doing it with one hand! &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/7061132191856879144-6409427727492697595?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/6409427727492697595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=6409427727492697595' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6409427727492697595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/6409427727492697595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/10/phony-balogna.html' title='Phony Balogna'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SQknJHUm7SI/AAAAAAAAAFA/uhq9Nn0IKUE/s72-c/bottle.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3833457337842388449</id><published>2008-10-18T17:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T17:36:41.504-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cirque de Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SPqAVl_bqPI/AAAAAAAAAEw/nAQPMeOlkLo/s1600-h/DSCN0830.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258656623372249330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SPqAVl_bqPI/AAAAAAAAAEw/nAQPMeOlkLo/s320/DSCN0830.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All of the baby books say that each child is an individual, and to remember that each child develops at his/her own pace. In Abby's case, she has done some pretty strange things since she's become more mobile. It all started with the Super Abby (see previous post). Then, even before she could pull herself up on all fours, she did the "downward facing dog" yoga pose, where she did a headstand in the front, while standing on her legs. She still does that for at least 10 minutes each night as I put her in the crib. I like to think of it as her "cool down" exercises since she's so active all day. (Note: that's the one I really wanted to capture on film, but she gets VERY excited when she sees the camera so I can't risk whipping it out at bedtime. She'd never go down.) Now, she can sit up if she supports herself with one hand. But sometimes she only gets halfway there and ends up in this swimsuit model pose:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258656208756123138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SPp_9dbPpgI/AAAAAAAAAEo/NQm9hkBd-jc/s320/DSCN0837.JPG" border="0" /&gt;  &lt;div&gt;It is so GREAT that she's become more self entertaining. Her babysitter says that she can even hold her own bottle on a regular basis, although she won't do it around me. What a phony bologna. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258657048741375682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SPqAuWnVbsI/AAAAAAAAAE4/_wk8_Rsjwks/s320/DSCN0839.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-3833457337842388449?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3833457337842388449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3833457337842388449' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3833457337842388449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3833457337842388449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/10/cirque-de-baby.html' title='Cirque de Baby'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SPqAVl_bqPI/AAAAAAAAAEw/nAQPMeOlkLo/s72-c/DSCN0830.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-8646774110288328564</id><published>2008-10-09T19:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T19:31:02.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day with the De Jongs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SO68YaH7ivI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/qNMIDRYAczM/s1600-h/DSCN0842.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255344942703414002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SO68YaH7ivI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/qNMIDRYAczM/s320/DSCN0842.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our nephew Mason was baptized this weekend--so Abby got to see the De Jong clan in action. It was really fun to see Abby's Great Grandma Bernice, since it had been since mother's day that they last saw each other. I have really special memories of visiting my Great Grandmother Grace when I was little, so I think it's important for Abby to know where she's from. In fact, that's why Abby's middle name is Grace.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255346961783665346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SO6-N7yLMsI/AAAAAAAAAEg/yhgDvxDxSeE/s320/DSCN0843.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we were in Big Bear, Abby got these reddish/pink circles on her cheeks. My mom exclaimed, "She looks like a little Dutch baby!" to which I replied "She is a little Dutch baby!" I think us Brashears forget sometimes, so it's nice for her to see the other side:)&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/7061132191856879144-8646774110288328564?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/8646774110288328564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=8646774110288328564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8646774110288328564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/8646774110288328564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/10/day-with-de-jongs.html' title='A Day with the De Jongs'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SO68YaH7ivI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/qNMIDRYAczM/s72-c/DSCN0842.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-986796086973772497</id><published>2008-10-06T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T15:33:13.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Halloween Nightmare</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although I have a few hand-me-down options, I have been on the hunt for a cute Halloween costume for Abby. I recognize that it is ridiculous, since she won’t even remember this one, but it’s still fun to have my very own dress-up doll that isn’t our pug Gordie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I’d share some of the hilarious, but mostly inappropriate, baby Halloween costumes I’ve come across on the web. I’ve organized them in descending order, from cute to totally absurd. Truth be told, the Star Wars one is the only one that seems acceptable (for safety, among other reasons) to me:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqPu-adeoI/AAAAAAAAADE/0HHY3c-8e00/s1600-h/lea.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254169952471841410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqPu-adeoI/AAAAAAAAADE/0HHY3c-8e00/s320/lea.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love the felt wig!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqP816cNSI/AAAAAAAAADM/Q9sWAWTOq2M/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2018_88061895.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqP816cNSI/AAAAAAAAADM/Q9sWAWTOq2M/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2018_88061895.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254170190708225314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqP816cNSI/AAAAAAAAADM/Q9sWAWTOq2M/s320/brandsonsale-store_2018_88061895.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't imagine this is comfy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQEYlunMI/AAAAAAAAADc/Esq0eUmMfUI/s1600-h/233-300-RU885355.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254170320275676354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 108px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 143px" height="237" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQEYlunMI/AAAAAAAAADc/Esq0eUmMfUI/s320/233-300-RU885355.jpg" width="87" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is supposed to be a chick--looks more like a pinata to me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQBfEy1xI/AAAAAAAAADU/2NrGnF71XVI/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2018_89473891.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254170270476982034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQBfEy1xI/AAAAAAAAADU/2NrGnF71XVI/s320/brandsonsale-store_2018_89473891.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hey, baby! Your buns are showing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQIDHVEdI/AAAAAAAAADk/0BBHMGffZ-k/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2018_129995827.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254170383230505426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQIDHVEdI/AAAAAAAAADk/0BBHMGffZ-k/s320/brandsonsale-store_2018_129995827.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can you say suffocation hazard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQOzJg2-I/AAAAAAAAAD0/_tTlYybHPb8/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2018_129986744.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254170499203783650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQOzJg2-I/AAAAAAAAAD0/_tTlYybHPb8/s320/brandsonsale-store_2018_129986744.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQOzJg2-I/AAAAAAAAAD0/_tTlYybHPb8/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2018_129986744.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQOzJg2-I/AAAAAAAAAD0/_tTlYybHPb8/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2018_129986744.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is just mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQMJRjoTI/AAAAAAAAADs/efFabpHdtsc/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2018_130004106.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254170453603492146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqQMJRjoTI/AAAAAAAAADs/efFabpHdtsc/s320/brandsonsale-store_2018_130004106.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone get CPS on the horn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqRp0oyJnI/AAAAAAAAAEE/FOl2RU_RxhE/s1600-h/brandsonsale-store_2019_337548203.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254172062971471474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqRp0oyJnI/AAAAAAAAAEE/FOl2RU_RxhE/s320/brandsonsale-store_2019_337548203.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the prize for the WORST baby Halloween costume goes to the PIMP! I mean, really? That is so bad that it’s funny!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&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/7061132191856879144-986796086973772497?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/986796086973772497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=986796086973772497' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/986796086973772497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/986796086973772497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween-nightmare.html' title='A Halloween Nightmare'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOqPu-adeoI/AAAAAAAAADE/0HHY3c-8e00/s72-c/lea.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-5615803769598359459</id><published>2008-09-28T21:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T22:04:26.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Times in Big Bear</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOBhrhMDJrI/AAAAAAAAAC8/6a-yJNZokRQ/s1600-h/DSCN0720.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251304565785175730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOBhrhMDJrI/AAAAAAAAAC8/6a-yJNZokRQ/s320/DSCN0720.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the fam went up to Big Bear this weekend for a lil' R&amp;amp;R. It was a blast. Grandpa Bob, Grandpa Pat and Rob rode dirtbikes and relived Grandpa Pat's childhood. And us womenfolk just hung out and took it easy. Rob and I even had a date! We went to dinner and a movie and Abby stayed with the Grandparents. And two big things happened while we were up there:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Abby crawled! Only a little bit, but it was still really fantastic!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. On the way down the mountain today, she held her own bottle! For anyone who doesn't have kids, it is seriously a miracle and a time-freer-upper that she can feed herself (sorta.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But here comes the shocker--out of the WHOLE group, nobody had a camera. Alas, the event wasn't documented with film. But I did have this cute pic of Abby from a chilly night at the OC Fair. Nobody has to know it wasn't from this weekend (it will be our little secret.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. Don't worry, our little one wasn't out in the cold. And she's feeling MUCH better:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-5615803769598359459?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/5615803769598359459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=5615803769598359459' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/5615803769598359459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/5615803769598359459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/big-times-in-big-bear.html' title='Big Times in Big Bear'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SOBhrhMDJrI/AAAAAAAAAC8/6a-yJNZokRQ/s72-c/DSCN0720.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1460615487712532701</id><published>2008-09-22T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T10:17:53.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abby on the Mend</title><content type='html'>I had planned a whole happy-six-months-Abby post last week, since her mini-milestone was on Tuesday, September 16. But we ended up spending most of the day (and night) in the emergency room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had a VERY high fever (105.5) and we ended up having to go twice in a 24-hour period to figure out she has a kidney infection. I know, it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t even on my radar of things that could go wrong! But she’s on some heavy-duty antibiotics, and her fever is now under control. Thanks to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;oopy&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;goopy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;, most of her outfits from the last week have been stained HOT pink around the neck. (By the way, if any of you moms out there know how to get that out, please let me know.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being the germ freak that I am, I was really worried about all of the junk she could be exposed to in the ER since we spent so much time there last week. Then my worst fear realized when, starting yesterday, she developed a little cough. And because I work at CHOC, I have deduced that whatever made it past the shots and spoonfuls of antibiotics must be the plague. And now her little cough is a big cough. It’s &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;seriously&lt;/span&gt; so sad to hear her barking like a baby seal—she sounds like a little old man who has been smoking all his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose before I really start to freak out, I’ll see what the actual doctor has to say. So we’re off to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pediatrician&lt;/span&gt; yet again. Once this week is over, it will have been three times! Stay tuned and I’ll re-post later when we know more. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;UPDATE: We saw the doc and turns out Abby just has a cold. But we can't give her anything since she's so small.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a special thanks to Auntie Kelly for coming ALL the way out from the desert this week to help us out in our time of need! And for coming back tonight:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-1460615487712532701?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1460615487712532701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1460615487712532701' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1460615487712532701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1460615487712532701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/abby-on-mend.html' title='Abby on the Mend'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3980195829510703250</id><published>2008-09-22T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T10:45:56.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If you don't vote...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ahhh&lt;/span&gt;, my favorite FAVORITE time of year, well every four years. It’s presidential election season! It’s like Christmas, my birthday and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;superbowl&lt;/span&gt; rolled into one! I can’t wait for November when we have a chance to exercise one of the most precious rights we Americans have: to place a vote and maybe affect some change around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Anway&lt;/span&gt;, I just wanted to remind everyone to get out and vote this year. And I mean it when I say that I don’t care who you vote for—it’s just important that you vote. You know my motto, “If you don’t vote, you can’t complain.” So make your voice heard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here’s a link to site that can get you registered, verify your registration, or help you find a polling place. So for Pete’s (and George Washington’s) sake get registered and VOTE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.voteforchange.com/"&gt;https://www.voteforchange.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. So what if I am exploiting my baby blog for unabashed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;political&lt;/span&gt; promotion. Next post will be Abby-related, I promise!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-3980195829510703250?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3980195829510703250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3980195829510703250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3980195829510703250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3980195829510703250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/if-you-dont-vote.html' title='If you don&apos;t vote...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3178648020351302899</id><published>2008-09-18T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T15:13:27.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jazz Hands</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SNLRcm31AAI/AAAAAAAAAC0/scs9J2YGezU/s1600-h/DSCN0764.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247486805241298946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SNLRcm31AAI/AAAAAAAAAC0/scs9J2YGezU/s320/DSCN0764.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;show choir&lt;/span&gt;, yes, I said show choir, I went to a lot of competitions. I was also a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;songleader&lt;/span&gt;, so I spent a lot of time at dance competitions too. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; see so many crazed dancers making really intense faces, especially really scary big smiles. Clearly, Abby is getting an early start down the right path. Look at those gums:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-3178648020351302899?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3178648020351302899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3178648020351302899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3178648020351302899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3178648020351302899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/jazz-hands.html' title='Jazz Hands'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SNLRcm31AAI/AAAAAAAAAC0/scs9J2YGezU/s72-c/DSCN0764.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-7034601230626843016</id><published>2008-09-15T19:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T19:58:03.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abby Goes Bananas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SM8fkQR6exI/AAAAAAAAACs/WJgk1Jg5DLA/s1600-h/DSCN0807.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246446798615771922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SM8fkQR6exI/AAAAAAAAACs/WJgk1Jg5DLA/s320/DSCN0807.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SM8e1HPvMsI/AAAAAAAAACk/qXTxQHnP1y8/s1600-h/DSCN0786.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246445988736873154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SM8e1HPvMsI/AAAAAAAAACk/qXTxQHnP1y8/s320/DSCN0786.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Since Abby's daycare provider said that she's now eating 6-7 bottles a day, I decided to start her on solid foods. She's still learning, and I would estimate that 40% of it ends up on her bib, her outfit and the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/7061132191856879144-7034601230626843016?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/7034601230626843016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=7034601230626843016' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7034601230626843016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7034601230626843016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/abby-goes-bananas.html' title='Abby Goes Bananas'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SM8fkQR6exI/AAAAAAAAACs/WJgk1Jg5DLA/s72-c/DSCN0807.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-7733669180322246230</id><published>2008-09-10T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T20:19:51.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a bird, it's a plane...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMiNHJrG8VI/AAAAAAAAACc/AQr5zUIt4lM/s1600-h/DSCN0775.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244596920068272466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMiNHJrG8VI/AAAAAAAAACc/AQr5zUIt4lM/s320/DSCN0775.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It's SUPER ABBY! Since Abby can't really crawl yet, but she has found a way to improvise. She lifts all of her limbs and gets in the super baby pose and tips herself over until she gets where she needs to go. We just bought some big area rugs now that she's more mobile--and it looks like not a moment too soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know she'll be crawling the "regular" way any minute. She can push herself up on all fours, but can't do much more than rock back and forth.&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/7061132191856879144-7733669180322246230?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/7733669180322246230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=7733669180322246230' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7733669180322246230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7733669180322246230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/its-bird-its-plane.html' title='It&apos;s a bird, it&apos;s a plane...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMiNHJrG8VI/AAAAAAAAACc/AQr5zUIt4lM/s72-c/DSCN0775.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-3480309035283260921</id><published>2008-09-08T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T21:27:08.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Jonquil Blizzard of 08</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMX67SAq7kI/AAAAAAAAACU/e00-bMh8bIs/s1600-h/DSCN0817.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243873237496688194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMX67SAq7kI/AAAAAAAAACU/e00-bMh8bIs/s320/DSCN0817.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This picture wasn’t taken in the winter, or even somewhere that it snows. It was taken tonight in our living room. Our little house was built in the early 50’s, we still have the original AC unit that came with the house. It’s far more powerful than anything eco-friendly that you could buy today. And there are only two settings: freezing and blizzard. So when it’s time to put Abby in her jumper (which she LOVES by the way) she had to get bundled up, since it hangs directly in front of the arctic ice storm. And Granny Nanny thought she wouldn’t be able to use this hat until we go to Big Bear…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-3480309035283260921?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/3480309035283260921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=3480309035283260921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3480309035283260921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/3480309035283260921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/jonquil-blizzard-of-08.html' title='The Jonquil Blizzard of 08'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMX67SAq7kI/AAAAAAAAACU/e00-bMh8bIs/s72-c/DSCN0817.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-4610377704383763577</id><published>2008-09-06T14:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T15:02:54.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Look at that smile...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SML9PSKS8fI/AAAAAAAAACM/k34YzNzI-XM/s1600-h/carsmile.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243031355227566578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SML9PSKS8fI/AAAAAAAAACM/k34YzNzI-XM/s320/carsmile.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Auntie Kelly and Abby were having fun in the car this morning. Abby hates being alone in the back seat, so Kelly sits in the back with her and makes her laugh. I'm tired of everyone thinking she's a boy (still a hairless wonder at almost 6 months) so the bow helps a little. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/7061132191856879144-4610377704383763577?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/4610377704383763577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=4610377704383763577' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/4610377704383763577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/4610377704383763577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/look-at-that-smile.html' title='Look at that smile...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SML9PSKS8fI/AAAAAAAAACM/k34YzNzI-XM/s72-c/carsmile.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-7697460287331851261</id><published>2008-09-05T13:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T14:28:30.011-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm ready for my close up...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMGiunkgo_I/AAAAAAAAACE/WoItyjy4R8E/s1600-h/IMG_9839.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242650363015767026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMGiunkgo_I/AAAAAAAAACE/WoItyjy4R8E/s320/IMG_9839.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Movie over Jolie-Pitt clan. Never in the history of the world has then been a more well-documented baby than Abby. Her Grandpa Pat, and her Uncle Chris, have stalked her like paparazzi since the moment she was born. But I shouldn't complain, I'm glad to have a team of professionals &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;available&lt;/span&gt; to use at my every whim. And they love the excuse to buy a new flash or camera-related expense.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When it came time to send out Abby's birth announcement, I called Chris to come over to take some shots. Chris had heard from someone that Anne &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Geddes&lt;/span&gt; makes her famous newborns sleep by having her studio cranked up to 90 degrees. That way, they are naked, warm and comfortable. (On a side note, I got to spend some time with Anne &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Geddes&lt;/span&gt; at a photo shoot at CHOC, and she NEVER mentioned this crazy idea. But I trust Chris, so I went with it.) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I cranked up the heat. But if you know me at all, you know that I hate the heat. Anyway, we were only shooting for a few minutes, and Abby started crying. And I started sweating. This was in the heyday of her famous 3-hour &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;inconsolable&lt;/span&gt; crying binges. I thought &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I'd&lt;/span&gt; share some of the photos that didn't make it onto the announcement:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242648598072395634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMGhH4pOB3I/AAAAAAAAAB0/0hPFrXKEqhw/s320/IMG_0057.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, Abby was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;apprehensive&lt;/span&gt;. "I mean, what's all the naked business about anyway?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242631100737782930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMGRNZ_kBJI/AAAAAAAAABs/wpw_m23IUkA/s320/IMG_9875.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Chris had only been clicking away for a few minutes when she started making this face and grunting. We all know what that means. Abby's famous scowl mean poops and toots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242649782413251346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMGiM0qFUxI/AAAAAAAAAB8/J-0_pyewF-I/s320/IMG_9849.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;"I'm so over this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Luckily, we got a few pretty cute ones. Let me know if you didn't get an announcement for all it's fridge-displaying glory. I have extra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/7061132191856879144-7697460287331851261?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/7697460287331851261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=7697460287331851261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7697460287331851261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7697460287331851261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/im-ready-for-my-close-up.html' title='I&apos;m ready for my close up...'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SMGiunkgo_I/AAAAAAAAACE/WoItyjy4R8E/s72-c/IMG_9839.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-5997991569337877342</id><published>2008-09-03T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T16:21:42.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abby Speaks!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SL8byvgTt1I/AAAAAAAAABI/1jVizbUf1E4/s1600-h/DSCN0655.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241939049841932114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SL8byvgTt1I/AAAAAAAAABI/1jVizbUf1E4/s320/DSCN0655.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So far Abby hasn’t said any real words other than goo, aaah, and making raspberry noises. On Friday, while at Granny Nanny’s, Abby looked over at my parent’s dog Savannah. And then, in a very clear and expressive voice, said “Hi!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom and I were shocked. She said it one more time, then nothing. And she hasn’t said another “word” since then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-5997991569337877342?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/5997991569337877342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=5997991569337877342' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/5997991569337877342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/5997991569337877342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/abby-speaks.html' title='Abby Speaks!'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SL8byvgTt1I/AAAAAAAAABI/1jVizbUf1E4/s72-c/DSCN0655.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-2540476763163552709</id><published>2008-09-02T20:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T20:31:53.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abby's First Kiss</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SL4ENK1BgsI/AAAAAAAAABA/cw4WWu36coQ/s1600-h/chris+abby+disc+2+023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241631640597398210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SL4ENK1BgsI/AAAAAAAAABA/cw4WWu36coQ/s320/chris+abby+disc+2+023.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Abby loves our dogs, Gordie and Scout. Most babies get startled or cry when dogs run their way, but Abby just laughs and laughs. She grunts and coos to get their attention. She can’t get enough. She thinks Gordie is especially hilarious. Laughing wildly every time he comes near. And Gordie loves it too, since most people push him away when he gets too close. She laughs hysterically when his little tongue licks her hands. And that’s as far as I ever let it go, being the germaphobe that I am. And Gordie sure loves to lick. I let him get one or two licks in, then immediately wash her hands with soap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the unthinkable happened. I put Abby on her playmat on the floor, and went into the kitchen to make a bottle. For the most part, Gordie leaves Abby alone when she’s on her mat—he knows her toys and playthings are off limits to him. From the kitchen, I hear a BURST of hysterical laughter from Abby. She was laughing so hard that I actually thought she was crying at first. I ran into the family room and screamed. To my horror, Gordie was standing over Abby (who was on her back) tenderly licking her face, including the INSIDE OF HER MOUTH as she was laughing and screaming with delight. I haven’t seen either of them happier. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scooped Abby up, and immediately called my mom (Granny Nanny) in a panic to find out if Listerine and/or toothpaste were safe for babies in an emergency such as this. She suggested that I wipe Abby down with a warm washcloth and be sure to get the inside of her mouth. I ended up just giving her a real, full-blown bath. But no matter how much I lathered her up, it couldn’t get rid of the picture in my head of Abby’s first kiss. Blagh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-2540476763163552709?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/2540476763163552709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=2540476763163552709' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2540476763163552709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/2540476763163552709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/abbys-first-kiss.html' title='Abby&apos;s First Kiss'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SL4ENK1BgsI/AAAAAAAAABA/cw4WWu36coQ/s72-c/chris+abby+disc+2+023.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-7395731403071600576</id><published>2008-09-01T23:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T23:29:43.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Better Late than Never</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SLzbY7hG86I/AAAAAAAAAAY/2Kbilm4HM_0/s1600-h/DSCN0639.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241305287692317602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SLzbY7hG86I/AAAAAAAAAAY/2Kbilm4HM_0/s320/DSCN0639.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I know this is SO three months ago, but in a frenzy of I-can't-believe-I-have-to-go-back-to-work energy and guilt, my mom and I took Abby and went to Disneyland THREE times in the same week. Did I mention it was the week before I went back to work? Now that I look back on it, it was pretty much the worst idea ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first trip was a wash. Literally. It was pouring rain and freezing. And clearly, it was all worth it, since Abby had a memorable and exciting time. And if the thunder and lightning weren't enough, try getting on and off the freaking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;DL&lt;/span&gt; tram with a baby seat, stroller, diaper bag, baby &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bjorn&lt;/span&gt; and two purses. What a mess. By the time we got home, my hair looked like Top &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ramen&lt;/span&gt;. But at least it got washed that day, well, sort of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-7395731403071600576?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/7395731403071600576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=7395731403071600576' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7395731403071600576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/7395731403071600576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/better-late-than-never.html' title='Better Late than Never'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/SLzbY7hG86I/AAAAAAAAAAY/2Kbilm4HM_0/s72-c/DSCN0639.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7061132191856879144.post-1434236083086017214</id><published>2008-09-01T23:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T23:13:26.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Into the Fire</title><content type='html'>I hate to admit it, being that I am a writer and all, that I've been pretty resistant to this whole blogging business. But now, out of sheer desperation for more time in each day, I've decided to give it a try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This way, I don't have to deal with sending too-slow slideshows on Shutterfly, and ya'll can stay in the loop. And because the only time I have to work on this puppy is late at night, I can't promise anything witty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will do my best. Now comes the hard part, taking enough pictures on a regular basis that I have recent stuff to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7061132191856879144-1434236083086017214?l=abbydejong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/feeds/1434236083086017214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7061132191856879144&amp;postID=1434236083086017214' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1434236083086017214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7061132191856879144/posts/default/1434236083086017214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abbydejong.blogspot.com/2008/09/into-fire.html' title='Into the Fire'/><author><name>Pam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05147791241776694143</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4R5tivo4Eqg/TQGk6taySPI/AAAAAAAAAWU/Kxr6URKVBhA/S220/pamheadshot.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
