<?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-34861318</id><updated>2012-02-16T06:07:31.641-08:00</updated><category term='smercials'/><category term='sick'/><category term='Sugar'/><category term='stories'/><category term='blogging updates'/><category term='love'/><category term='polar express'/><title type='text'>All About Ben</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-1905104056103937382</id><published>2008-09-13T08:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T08:09:21.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXluHxR1I/AAAAAAAAAB4/mu4qKIgUbbI/s1600-h/100_0806.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXluHxR1I/AAAAAAAAAB4/mu4qKIgUbbI/s320/100_0806.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245523234038826834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXl3mXAPI/AAAAAAAAACA/TfVwf5hhmZo/s1600-h/100_0813.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXl3mXAPI/AAAAAAAAACA/TfVwf5hhmZo/s320/100_0813.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245523236583047410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXl7KKBhI/AAAAAAAAACI/MqQKCrHytkc/s1600-h/100_0816.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXl7KKBhI/AAAAAAAAACI/MqQKCrHytkc/s320/100_0816.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245523237538498066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXmGIEKyI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Byno5-MCEvo/s1600-h/ben+and+nikki.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXmGIEKyI/AAAAAAAAACQ/Byno5-MCEvo/s320/ben+and+nikki.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245523240482515746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXmD4lOpI/AAAAAAAAACY/LBgBbGVqoPg/s1600-h/ben+and+jan+in+pool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXmD4lOpI/AAAAAAAAACY/LBgBbGVqoPg/s320/ben+and+jan+in+pool.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245523239880702610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been neglecting this blog.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben has graduated college now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding.  I have discovered facebook and I seem to be spending most of my time there.  We are just ending a week of vacation which ended up being a very expensive non-trip to florida.  Instead of braving the hurricanes, we decided to go to the poconos and stay at great wolf lodge and then go to Jan's parents.  Here are some photos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-1905104056103937382?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/1905104056103937382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=1905104056103937382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/1905104056103937382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/1905104056103937382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-i-have-been-neglecting-this-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/SMvXluHxR1I/AAAAAAAAAB4/mu4qKIgUbbI/s72-c/100_0806.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-8173771154035192176</id><published>2008-02-18T16:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T16:51:59.473-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So the other day Ben was telling a story and he wanted to refer to mama, but you could see that he kinda drew a blank, lost his train of thought, whatever and he paused.  Mama says ' Mama ' and he holds up his hand and goes, 'yeah, mama!' It was so cute, like a regular little person!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way I can't believe you are all still reading because these posts are mainly for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-8173771154035192176?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/8173771154035192176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=8173771154035192176' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8173771154035192176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8173771154035192176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2008/02/so-other-day-ben-was-telling-story-and.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-2276310025454359864</id><published>2008-01-27T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T12:08:50.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So we are laying in bed.  Ben says, "Whose butt is that?" and I say, "that is my tummy"... :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-2276310025454359864?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/2276310025454359864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=2276310025454359864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2276310025454359864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2276310025454359864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2008/01/so-we-are-laying-in-bed.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-6543387134796333026</id><published>2008-01-11T12:38:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T12:42:00.428-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>fibber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a fibber.  I guess we will have to start dealing with it pretty soon.  It's pretty harmless so far because he has not figured out that lying about what one of us says while standing in front of both of us is not really effective.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-6543387134796333026?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/6543387134796333026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=6543387134796333026' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6543387134796333026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6543387134796333026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2008/01/fibber-we-have-fibber.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-2933969682521360087</id><published>2008-01-11T12:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T12:38:17.688-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Imagination&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben has started trying to figure out what is real and what is imaginary.  Also what is good and what is bad.  These are some very tough questions sometimes.  I think TV makes it harder to explain the imaginary because it is somewhat 'real' if only because you can see it.  Then there is the whole thing about his own imagination and if he asks if monsters are real and you say no and then he imagines one in his closet, what do you do with that?  It's tough but it makes for terrific conversation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-2933969682521360087?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/2933969682521360087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=2933969682521360087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2933969682521360087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2933969682521360087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2008/01/imagination-ben-has-started-trying-to.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-8470437883024520259</id><published>2007-12-30T07:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T07:38:40.516-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Cavities filled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben did great, he did the really hard part by himself.  By the time they got me, he just had some finishing work to do.  I was very proud of him.  He had a tough week.  We took him for a flu shot and turns out they are 'retro vaccinating' kids for hepA.  So two shots and then two fillings in the same week....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-8470437883024520259?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/8470437883024520259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=8470437883024520259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8470437883024520259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8470437883024520259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/12/cavities-filled.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-1552281192332441896</id><published>2007-11-16T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T14:00:30.408-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben's first visit to the dentist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, brought back a lot of the stress of my childhood visits.  But my big boy was very brave and big and I was extremely proud of him.  He didn't like the taste of the flouride when they cleaned his teeth but he didn't complain - he just told me afterwards that it was 'too spicy'.  Unfortunately he has two cavities so we have to go back in 3 weeks for fillings, which I am totally dreading and horrified about.  They said his teeth mostly touch each other so we should floss regularly (of course they said that) and yet, the two cavities are on the back lower molar on each side...anyway, I have been exhausted all day, I must have been much more stressed about it than I realized.  I hate that he has to go back for fillings...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-1552281192332441896?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/1552281192332441896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=1552281192332441896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/1552281192332441896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/1552281192332441896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/11/bens-first-visit-to-dentist.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-2307201068418145417</id><published>2007-10-07T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T17:16:09.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What do you do when other kid's parents don't parent or set an example that you necessarily want your kids exposed to?  I mean, the world is full of different kinds of people and all, but I struggle with little friends whose parents I don't agree with....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-2307201068418145417?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/2307201068418145417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=2307201068418145417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2307201068418145417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2307201068418145417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/10/what-do-you-do-when-other-kids-parents.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-8958550507627533079</id><published>2007-09-30T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T17:09:28.165-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Heavy Work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As George's friend Bill would say, 'There is a proper way to dress for heavy work'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did work hard today. Here is the evidence. (actually only evidence that BEN worked hard today)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3T0JXDZI/AAAAAAAAAA0/cd0Zm491yiU/s1600-h/workerguy012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116149990247828882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3T0JXDZI/AAAAAAAAAA0/cd0Zm491yiU/s320/workerguy012.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3UUJXDaI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-XRvQKHtwV4/s1600-h/workerguy013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116149998837763490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3UUJXDaI/AAAAAAAAAA8/-XRvQKHtwV4/s320/workerguy013.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3VEJXDbI/AAAAAAAAABE/ekV2Jz4AkXM/s1600-h/workerguy014.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116150011722665394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3VEJXDbI/AAAAAAAAABE/ekV2Jz4AkXM/s320/workerguy014.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3VkJXDcI/AAAAAAAAABM/Bm6eh9j76ao/s1600-h/workerguy020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116150020312600002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3VkJXDcI/AAAAAAAAABM/Bm6eh9j76ao/s320/workerguy020.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3WEJXDdI/AAAAAAAAABU/wf2vrw8QuEM/s1600-h/workerguy006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116150028902534610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3WEJXDdI/AAAAAAAAABU/wf2vrw8QuEM/s320/workerguy006.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/34861318-8958550507627533079?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/8958550507627533079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=8958550507627533079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8958550507627533079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8958550507627533079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/09/heavy-work-as-georges-friend-bill-would.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RwA3T0JXDZI/AAAAAAAAAA0/cd0Zm491yiU/s72-c/workerguy012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-6390923503704382807</id><published>2007-09-30T06:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T16:39:20.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I look at other parents and so many of them seem annoyed by their kids or just blase' about them. I don't really understand it because I, myself, cannot keep my hands off of my kid. Every time I look at him I just want to eat him up!! How is it that people can have kids and not appreciate them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-6390923503704382807?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/6390923503704382807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=6390923503704382807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6390923503704382807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6390923503704382807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/09/so-i-look-at-other-parents-and-so-many.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-7495733662973413241</id><published>2007-09-07T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T16:55:30.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here is a question.  Don't have a good answer...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't spaceships come to our house Mommy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, spaceships have other places to go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have places around here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's true.  I guess I don't know why spaceships don't come to our house.     (but I think I am glad they don't)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-7495733662973413241?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/7495733662973413241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=7495733662973413241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/7495733662973413241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/7495733662973413241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/09/here-is-question.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-2265612058020329533</id><published>2007-09-07T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T16:52:37.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Missed me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night Ben was about to go to sleep when he said, " I was kinda sad at naptime today" [he had been at preschool]  and when I asked why, he said, "Cause I missed you"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-2265612058020329533?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/2265612058020329533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=2265612058020329533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2265612058020329533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2265612058020329533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/09/missed-me-so-last-night-ben-was-about.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-476631165069670377</id><published>2007-09-03T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T07:53:28.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben has learned to write his first letter.  It's 'H' for Hallie.  Pretty cool!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-476631165069670377?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/476631165069670377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=476631165069670377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/476631165069670377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/476631165069670377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/09/ben-has-learned-to-write-his-first.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-588457591634618549</id><published>2007-08-08T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T11:32:50.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RroMQHFMrkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/B3PU504KCBQ/s1600-h/IMG_1078.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096399399241428546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RroMQHFMrkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/B3PU504KCBQ/s320/IMG_1078.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RroMQnFMrlI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Hsd6o6_FJAg/s1600-h/IMG_1082.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096399407831363154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RroMQnFMrlI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Hsd6o6_FJAg/s320/IMG_1082.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mow, Mow, Mow the grass&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the John Deere Mower&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life is but a dream!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-588457591634618549?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/588457591634618549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=588457591634618549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/588457591634618549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/588457591634618549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/08/mow-mow-mow-grass-on-john-deere-mower.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RroMQHFMrkI/AAAAAAAAAAc/B3PU504KCBQ/s72-c/IMG_1078.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-3531961545689204200</id><published>2007-07-15T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T16:53:44.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The other day I picked Ben up from 'school'.  Usually we chat on the way home but for whatever reason I was not engaging him on the way home.... so he said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What did we see today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just took note of his delivery and purposeful conversation startup.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-3531961545689204200?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/3531961545689204200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=3531961545689204200' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/3531961545689204200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/3531961545689204200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/07/other-day-i-picked-ben-up-from-school.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-1797583286846111144</id><published>2007-06-21T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T09:34:14.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night, out of nowhere we had a conversation just before Ben went to sleep. It went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mommy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes Ben?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I get bigger can I drive a big blue tractor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure, if you want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-1797583286846111144?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/1797583286846111144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=1797583286846111144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/1797583286846111144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/1797583286846111144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/06/last-night-out-of-nowhere-we-had.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-2951056435335432622</id><published>2007-06-21T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T09:32:38.307-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Robbie doesn't have two Mommies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There it is.  3 years, 3 months.  The first time Ben asked, 'Why doesn't Robbie have two Mommies'.  As quick as that, we said, the standard answer, that some people have a mommy and daddy and some people have one mommy and some people have.... and it was good enough.  for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-2951056435335432622?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/2951056435335432622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=2951056435335432622' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2951056435335432622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2951056435335432622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/06/robbie-doesnt-have-two-mommies.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-4236544681020527078</id><published>2007-06-13T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T09:53:48.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben is transitioning again.  He has such a hard time with changing teachers.  I was hoping now that he had friends at school it would go a little easier, but no.   He doesn't care about his friends, he cares about Miss Kathy and his routine.  It's just heartbreaking to have to peel your crying child from you and leave them somewhere that they don't want to be.  I know that he will get used to it, but I just hate these transitions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-4236544681020527078?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/4236544681020527078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=4236544681020527078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/4236544681020527078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/4236544681020527078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/06/ben-is-transitioning-again.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-8876599192574836153</id><published>2007-06-03T06:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T06:54:13.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm 39 today.  Seems strange.  I feel so young and so old at the same time.  I feel pretty much the same way I did when I was younger, I don't think my views have changed that much, but I certainly see the difference between me and a 'twenty something'.  Then there is the physical - it's hard to say if it is because I am out of shape and over weight or just getting old.  My body certainly feels old.  Can't imagine what &lt;em&gt;another 39 years&lt;/em&gt; will do to this body.   I realize now that most of my friends are in their 40s and 50s and I guess this is kinda mid-life.  It's weird. I was saying to Mary the other day after we saw 'the year of magical thinking' in NY that we are at the edge of that time when we will experience loss more often.  Both parents and friends are aging and we are going to start losing people at an accelerated pace.   And then I look at Ben.  He is so full of life and health - and I am so grateful for him.  I never could have imagined or predicted what my 39th birthday might look like.  Even though I feel kinda contemplative today, I am overwhelmingly grateful for my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-8876599192574836153?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/8876599192574836153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=8876599192574836153' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8876599192574836153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8876599192574836153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/06/im-39-today.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-5538332483629200867</id><published>2007-05-24T14:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T14:30:27.916-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sugar'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Too Much Sugar.    This is what I told Ben once when he was having trouble going to sleep.  So ever since then, every night he says, " I ate too much sugar".  It does come in handy because saying no to a snack at night is as easy as saying 'too much sugar'.  But then a few nights ago he asked if milk had sugar and I answered yes, but not the kind that keeps you awake.  So then two nights ago, he said that the kind of sugar that milk has helps him sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-5538332483629200867?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/5538332483629200867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=5538332483629200867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/5538332483629200867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/5538332483629200867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/05/too-much-sugar.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-6338535926775464244</id><published>2007-05-13T14:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T14:37:58.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I got this as a forward today for mother's day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is basically what I am always trying to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom&lt;br /&gt;I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.&lt;br /&gt;I never thought about immunizations.&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom-I had never been:&lt;br /&gt;Puked on.&lt;br /&gt;Pooped on.&lt;br /&gt;Chewed on.&lt;br /&gt;Peed on.&lt;br /&gt;I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;I slept all night.&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom&lt;br /&gt;I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.&lt;br /&gt;Or give shots.&lt;br /&gt;I never looked into teary eyes and cried.&lt;br /&gt;I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.&lt;br /&gt;I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom&lt;br /&gt;I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put them down.&lt;br /&gt;I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.&lt;br /&gt;I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.&lt;br /&gt;I never knew that I could love someone so much.&lt;br /&gt;I never knew I would love being a Mom.&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom -&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.&lt;br /&gt;Before I was a Mom -&lt;br /&gt;I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every10 minutes to make sure all was okay.&lt;br /&gt;I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache,the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-6338535926775464244?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/6338535926775464244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=6338535926775464244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6338535926775464244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6338535926775464244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/05/so-i-got-this-as-forward-today-for.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-9153463771035892047</id><published>2007-05-10T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T09:44:26.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We went home to Ohio for a visit last week. We got to play with Uncle Joe and Kayla and Ben had a great time. He loves Grandpa Hal's shop and all the tractors and trucks. I have a country boy in spite of myself, it seems.  We got to visit Grandpa Jack and Grandma Martha too.  Ben liked the back yard with the fire hydrant and dalmation statue.  He also found a baby squirrel which he had to be encouraged not to actually catch.    He really wanted to know why Grandpa Ken was not there.   I got sick a couple of days in and so we didn't do as much as we had planned, but Ben still seemed to have a really good time.  He is such a good traveler and this time he stayed awake on the plane in both directions.  By now it is a week back and I forget all the things I planned to write.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-9153463771035892047?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/9153463771035892047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=9153463771035892047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/9153463771035892047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/9153463771035892047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/05/we-went-home-to-ohio-for-visit-last.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-3982704641951394286</id><published>2007-04-20T12:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T12:51:15.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RikZdxDkjWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/BGNDsLaHw7M/s1600-h/IMG_0608.JPG"&gt;BTW - Here are some pictures of Jane.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055600055875308898" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RikZdxDkjWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/BGNDsLaHw7M/s320/IMG_0608.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RikZeRDkjXI/AAAAAAAAAAU/ZC6cl3dC2CM/s1600-h/IMG_0620.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5055600064465243506" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RikZeRDkjXI/AAAAAAAAAAU/ZC6cl3dC2CM/s320/IMG_0620.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-3982704641951394286?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/3982704641951394286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=3982704641951394286' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/3982704641951394286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/3982704641951394286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/04/btw-here-are-some-pictures-of-jane.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/RikZdxDkjWI/AAAAAAAAAAM/BGNDsLaHw7M/s72-c/IMG_0608.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-2004677727541106383</id><published>2007-04-20T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T12:47:01.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>yesterday I was getting ready for work and Jane (the new puppy) was barking at the cat.  All of us within a few feet of each other and Ben comes walking in from the living room and says,&lt;br /&gt;''Hi Kids!"  That boy cracks me up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-2004677727541106383?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/2004677727541106383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=2004677727541106383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2004677727541106383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2004677727541106383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/04/yesterday-i-was-getting-ready-for-work.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-3168356143447686681</id><published>2007-04-17T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T08:08:54.556-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging updates'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's so funny to me that anyone even reads this blog and here you are commenting! Even my idol Catherine has been here (and commented!)  I continue to feel like I have nothing to say and even in re-reading these posts, I think there is nothing of  interest to anyone else in my random posts.  Yet, I continue to make the attempt.  I wish I were able to write such well crafted posts as some of the rest of you, but it seems not to be the case.  Similarly, I try to send out updates by email to my friends since I am terrible at calling and writing - There is so much going on in our lives and Ben is so great and so  fun and so funny and so beautiful and smart and then I go to write and nothing.  Really all I want to do is send out pictures and say 'ben is the best kid ever' and leave it at that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-3168356143447686681?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/3168356143447686681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=3168356143447686681' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/3168356143447686681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/3168356143447686681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/04/its-so-funny-to-me-that-anyone-even.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-2219450557888696909</id><published>2007-04-08T16:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-08T16:26:11.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Not Sure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately, Ben's affirmative answer is 'sure' but then the other day he didn't want to do something and he wanted to say 'No' in fact, he wanted to say No rather emphatically, so he said, "NOT SURE"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-2219450557888696909?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/2219450557888696909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=2219450557888696909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2219450557888696909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2219450557888696909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/04/not-sure-lately-bens-affirmative-answer.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-7937481954158732223</id><published>2007-03-25T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T06:10:59.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben had his 3rd birthday portraits done yesterday.  Boy was it fun.  We got such a great set of shots!  Check out the flickr badge to see some.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-7937481954158732223?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/7937481954158732223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=7937481954158732223' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/7937481954158732223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/7937481954158732223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/ben-had-his-3rd-birthday-portraits-done.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-2908208852121030425</id><published>2007-03-25T06:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T06:07:53.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben woke up this morning to tell me that fish don't have hammers.  Neither do tadpoles and Nanna Deedee was there.  Hmmm...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-2908208852121030425?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/2908208852121030425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=2908208852121030425' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2908208852121030425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/2908208852121030425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/ben-woke-up-this-morning-to-tell-me.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-3871414520640981128</id><published>2007-03-22T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-22T18:06:03.038-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben was sick all last week.  Terrible fever and sore throat, couldn't get any food into him at all.  Of course, this was the time I chose to be less frantic and assumed he had the virus that had been taking down his entire daycare.  But after 3 days of 103 plus temps, we called the doc.  Of course by the time she saw him he was on the verge of pnuemonia.  I hate to be the panicky mom, but look what happens when I am not!  Most importantly, he still melted me when on the 2nd day Mary asked him how he was feeling and he said, 'good' because that is always what he says, but then he paused and said, 'actually, I don't feel so good'.  I continue to be amazed at my amazement and joy over every single thing about this boy.  He is so big and so small all at the same time.  I love him so much it just breaks my heart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-3871414520640981128?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/3871414520640981128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=3871414520640981128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/3871414520640981128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/3871414520640981128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/ben-was-sick-all-last-week.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-6291868884775863624</id><published>2007-03-22T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-22T17:59:22.708-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='polar express'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We are watching 'Polar Express' again.  We must have watched it at least 100 times by now.  But today, Ben suddenly exclaims, 'Trains don't stop at people's houses!' - of course I think that is a brilliant observation for a 3 year old.  Am I biased?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-6291868884775863624?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/6291868884775863624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=6291868884775863624' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6291868884775863624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6291868884775863624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/we-are-watching-polar-express-again.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-6493382199080675275</id><published>2007-03-17T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-17T17:24:46.788-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='smercials'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lately we have been working on telling the difference between shows and 'smercials'.  The concept is made harder by Tivo because sometimes we can make things appear on demand, sometimes we can't.  Then sometimes we don't even see 'smercials' because we fast forward right through them.  Mostly i want to remember that he says, 'that's a smercial Mommy'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-6493382199080675275?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/6493382199080675275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=6493382199080675275' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6493382199080675275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6493382199080675275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/lately-we-have-been-working-on-telling.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-7438119183924298792</id><published>2007-03-13T18:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T18:07:05.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben's been sick.  So today we had to wait to do anything till his dreams were over.  so cute even when he is sick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-7438119183924298792?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/7438119183924298792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=7438119183924298792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/7438119183924298792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/7438119183924298792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/bens-been-sick.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-5157796608213101439</id><published>2007-03-13T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T18:06:16.824-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben has started to tell stories.  He uses his story telling voice where teh intonation is up at the end with the last word drawn out.  Like, there was a Waaaallll.  It's cute.  But everything in the past either happened this morning or last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-5157796608213101439?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/5157796608213101439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=5157796608213101439' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/5157796608213101439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/5157796608213101439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/ben-has-started-to-tell-stories.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-156299652112407318</id><published>2007-03-09T12:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-09T12:12:38.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I decided to wear sweatpants to the doctor this morning.  Now I know that I have said before that I don't wear them out of the house but I spend so much time at that dr office that I decided I didn't care today.  But wouldn't you know, as soon as we sat down in the waiting room, Ben said, " Why are you wearing your Jammies mommy?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-156299652112407318?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/156299652112407318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=156299652112407318' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/156299652112407318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/156299652112407318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-decided-to-wear-sweatpants-to-doctor.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-8730700522182651445</id><published>2007-03-07T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T11:49:01.742-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Actually&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a word I use a lot.  It's a grown up word, in my mind.  It is so weird and wonderful to hear it coming out of Ben's mouth.   I asked him a question this week and he first answered yes and then he said 'no, actually, he didn't'  OMG where did my baby go?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-8730700522182651445?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/8730700522182651445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=8730700522182651445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8730700522182651445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8730700522182651445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/03/actually-its-word-i-use-lot.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-305980659080665128</id><published>2007-02-12T20:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-10T18:20:51.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was teaching Ben about Eskimo kisses the other day and he has decided that they are called Elmo kisses instead.  Elmo kisses it is!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-305980659080665128?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/305980659080665128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=305980659080665128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/305980659080665128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/305980659080665128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-was-teaching-ben-about-eskimo-kisses.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-8034098131624315353</id><published>2007-02-10T18:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-10T18:18:25.614-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben has a recent fascination with pretending to be anything and every thing that he likes.  Minute to minute he changes from his friend Jackson, to Copper or Chief from the Fox and the Hound.  Sometimes he is a cat, a fox, a lion, a firefighter, a trash guy, an engineer, a pilot,  all in the same day.  Mostly he is Jackson - maybe cause there is a role for each of us, I get to be Ericka, Mary gets to be Jill, and Maggie the cat gets to be Aggie the cat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-8034098131624315353?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/8034098131624315353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=8034098131624315353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8034098131624315353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/8034098131624315353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/02/ben-has-recent-fascination-with.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-6823410364386430915</id><published>2007-02-10T18:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T17:08:13.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Can't we stay a couple while?  I just want to remember this forever&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-6823410364386430915?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/6823410364386430915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=6823410364386430915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6823410364386430915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/6823410364386430915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/02/cant-we-stay-couple-while-i-just-want.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116985735165631470</id><published>2007-01-26T16:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T16:22:31.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I meant to mention that on Christmas Eve I was coming out of a store and there was this woman with her 3 kids and she was screaming at them (on christmas eve) - get into this f*ing car or I am gonna beat your ass.  I wanted so badly to walk over to that woman and say, 'when your kids grow up troubled, don't bother to ask yourself why' but I didn't.  I am reminded of it today because I just read Catherine Newman's wondertime article and am reminded to be patient with kids.  I try so hard to do it, I hope I am successful.  I also wish I could do something for that woman's kids and all the ones out there like them that don't know a good and loving parent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116985735165631470?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116985735165631470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116985735165631470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116985735165631470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116985735165631470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-meant-to-mention-that-on-christmas.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116967664126243108</id><published>2007-01-24T14:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T14:10:41.263-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So it has been a long time since I updated this blog.  Cindy is bugging the hell out of me so I had to come back and post something.  Since my last update, Ben has potty trained himself.  I take no credit for it whatsoever.  Basically on New Years weekend, he decided to use the potty.  We put the diapers away and he has done great! He did have a day when he made a play for going back to diapers, but after 6 outfits in one day, he gave up.  Now we just have nighttime diapers.  Still not thrilled about the pooping on the potty though.  Last night he was a bit more enthusiastic.  He had a 'small success' so to speak, so he finished up in one bathroom then decided he had to go poop in the other one (to be fair, I guess).  So he did that then went back to the first one.  I have to say it seems to be hard for him to SEE the poop in the potty what with that penis in the way, but he has decided to just yank it aside cause there is no waiting for seeing the poop till you finish!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116967664126243108?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116967664126243108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116967664126243108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116967664126243108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116967664126243108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2007/01/so-it-has-been-long-time-since-i.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116611466196095089</id><published>2006-12-14T08:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T14:06:49.676-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So every morning we read, 'The little Engine that Could' - otherwise known as 'Could in the book'.  At some point, the little engine, 'stops with a jerk'.  So I was showing Ben what a jerk was.  So then he says, 'Don't be a jerk, Mommy' - not exactly an expression I want him to repeat!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116611466196095089?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116611466196095089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116611466196095089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116611466196095089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116611466196095089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/12/so-every-morning-we-read-little-engine.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116561204626870819</id><published>2006-12-08T13:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-08T13:07:28.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So last night I was putting away laundry in Ben's room. Ben was 'helping' by taking clothes out of the basket for me, but then started walking out of the room. So I started to say 'don't do that' because I thought they were his clothes, but then I realized they were mine and he was taking them to my room.  In the middle of saying , 'don't do that', I stopped myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and he goes, 'stop screaming at me mommy'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which totally cracked me up&lt;br /&gt;because: &lt;br /&gt;#1 wasn't screaming at all&lt;br /&gt;and &lt;br /&gt;#2 that is what mary and I are always saying to each other in a joking kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the cool (and very funny thing) is that he got the intonation just right and was every bit as nonchalant as he should have been as he just kept moving...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116561204626870819?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116561204626870819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116561204626870819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116561204626870819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116561204626870819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/12/so-last-night-i-was-putting-away.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116465836069644738</id><published>2006-11-27T12:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T12:12:41.733-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben has started to say "I love you" unsolicited.  It is soooo great.  I realize that I have not marked his milestones very well during these first years and I will certainly be sorry for that forever.  He grows and changes so much each day and I thought maybe this blog would help me be better about keeping track.  But it doesn't seem to make me better at it.  I used to be a pretty good writer too.  Where did that go?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116465836069644738?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116465836069644738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116465836069644738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116465836069644738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116465836069644738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/11/ben-has-started-to-say-i-love-you.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116380333197812883</id><published>2006-11-17T14:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T14:42:11.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>He smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He finally finally smiled for a portrait.  He is 2 1/2 and he looks 4 years old.  But he is so beautiful.  Did I really make this lovely being?  I can't ever believe it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116380333197812883?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116380333197812883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116380333197812883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116380333197812883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116380333197812883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/11/he-smiled.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116309078140983087</id><published>2006-11-09T08:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T08:46:21.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Independence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get a lot of feedback from people about the Family Bed and his independence being related.  These people theorize that Ben is overly dependent on me because he sleeps with us.  I totally disagree and yet I don't argue it.  Not only do I think it is wrong, I think Ben benefits from the bond that he and I share.  We snuggle a whole lot.  We have always had a lot of touching and I think it contributes to his intelligence.  He is turning out to be a pretty smart kid.  A lot of it is sure to be natural, but I believe the theory that touching a child increases the development of synapses in the brain and contributes to higher intelligence.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is, of course, a whole other emotional thing. He likes it.  We like it.  We all enjoy waking up together and he has never had to 'cry it out'.  I suppose he did have to at daycare, but at home, there doesn't seem to be any sense other than selfishness, in putting a kid through the sleeping alone thing before they are ready.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's my point?  Nothing I guess, I was just thinking about how great he is (like usual) and wondering about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116309078140983087?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116309078140983087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116309078140983087' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116309078140983087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116309078140983087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/11/independence-i-get-lot-of-feedback.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116127836368417157</id><published>2006-10-19T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T10:28:26.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I am reading this book called 'It's a boy'.  Let me start with the fact that I am very much enjoying this book.  But I keep reading about these moms that have sons who are violent and destructive by their simple boy nature.  Is this going to happen with my Ben?  I mean, he is two and a half and he doesn't seem the least bit apt to turn objects into guns or anything.  I mean, he tears up paper and hits the dog sometimes, but girls do that too.  When does all this boy violence kick in?  I, of course, prefer that he remain my gentle little angel and I wonder if I just got a sensitive boy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116127836368417157?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116127836368417157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116127836368417157' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116127836368417157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116127836368417157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/10/so-i-am-reading-this-book-called-its.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116110652848879487</id><published>2006-10-17T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T10:35:28.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I AM home momma!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently the logic of convincing a two year old that all 'fixer guys' have to go home and get dinner only works if you are not already AT home!  Next time the logic will have to be that they go INSIDE their homes for dinner...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116110652848879487?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116110652848879487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116110652848879487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116110652848879487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116110652848879487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-am-home-momma-apparently-logic-of.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116094626580451083</id><published>2006-10-15T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T14:04:25.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The World of Why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here it is.  Yesterday he asked me why for the very first time.  I think I am happy about it.  I remember it as a challenging time with my younger brothers and sisters, but somehow with Ben it is likely to just be an opportunity to consider things more closely.  I will keep you posted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116094626580451083?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116094626580451083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116094626580451083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116094626580451083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116094626580451083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/10/world-of-why-here-it-is.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116060296056612601</id><published>2006-10-11T14:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T14:42:40.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have this strange thing that I do.  Every day I mentally check the significance of the date.  I only mention it because today marks the one year passing of the date that we first found out about Ben's HLH risk.  It wasn't the worst day of my life (that is saved for next week - when we got his initial results back) But it is a date that I will mark for the rest of my life.  Do other people do this? I mean, I realize it's the point of anniversaries, but I do it for lots of things.  Can't remember yesterday but I can tell you the date my dog died, the date that I found out I was pregnant, etc etc.  I realize that if you thought I was strange before, this blogging is not going to diminish that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116060296056612601?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116060296056612601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116060296056612601' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116060296056612601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116060296056612601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-have-this-strange-thing-that-i-do_11.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116060295116700402</id><published>2006-10-11T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T14:42:31.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have this strange thing that I do.  Every day I mentally check the significance of the date.  I only mention it because today marks the one year passing of the date that we first found out about Ben's HLH risk.  It wasn't the worst day of my life (that is saved for next week - when we got his initial results back) But it is a date that I will mark for the rest of my life.  Do other people do this? I mean, I realize it's the point of anniversaries, but I do it for lots of things.  Can't remember yesterday but I can tell you the date my dog died, the date that I found out I was pregnant, etc etc.  I realize that if you thought I was strange before, this blogging is not going to diminish that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116060295116700402?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116060295116700402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116060295116700402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116060295116700402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116060295116700402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-have-this-strange-thing-that-i-do.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-116040574762570630</id><published>2006-10-09T07:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T07:55:47.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>'That buildin is too poorple fer me'  he says as we pull up to a lovely little cafe for lunch.  His recent obsession with 'for girlies' and 'for boys' colors disturbs me.  I have to wonder if it is his teachers or his classmates that are projecting such thoughts in his direction.  I find it distressing.  I want him to be free to like what he likes and not worry about girlie colors and boy colors.  At the moment he cannot eat with anything pink, purple, or the least rosy shade of red.  It is a sad statement that at two and a half such things are embedding themselves into his innocent little brain.  And yes, btw  - he is officially two and a Half.  He celebrated his 'half year birthday' (or at least I did) over the weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-116040574762570630?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/116040574762570630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=116040574762570630' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116040574762570630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/116040574762570630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/10/that-buildin-is-too-poorple-fer-me-he.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-115999705998574225</id><published>2006-10-04T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T14:24:19.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So today Ben was such a big boy, he walked all the way into the room at school and he even sat in a chair and smiled and started playing with the other kids.  He NEVER does that.  It is amazing how such a little thing can give me relief from wondering how he spends his days.  I know he would rather be home and he is so obvious about his not liking the transition between home and school.  It was just great to seem him be almost happy about being there for a change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-115999705998574225?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/115999705998574225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=115999705998574225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/115999705998574225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/115999705998574225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/10/so-today-ben-was-such-big-boy-he.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-115989275808538099</id><published>2006-10-03T09:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-03T09:25:58.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, now I am starting to love the blog.  Some friends have sent me some wonderful links for inspiration and people have such cool stuff on them.  I figured out the blogroll thing , thanks very  much bubandpie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so my friend Cindy tells me that I should just get on here and write about the stuff I tell people about in conversation.  Like how fun it was to watch Ben this weekend be such a good little kid.  I was washing the car and he first decided it was funny to shoot water at Maxine with the hose, but then once in awhile the nozzle was turned the wrong way and he totally shot himself in the face.  But he didn't cry - he took it and just laughed.  It was great to watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, we had popsicles and when we decided that we needed a second one, he said 'I wait here' so then I went inside to get them and when I cam out he was just sitting on the wall very patiently waiting, he is so BIG...it overwhelms me with pride and breaks my heart at the very same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One last little episode.  It was storming here at some point last week, when Ben and I were quietly having a snack.  I was sitting with him while he ate, but I was reading a magazine.  All the sudden he reached over and took my hand and said very seriously 'lightning'.  I asked if he was scared and he said yes.  That is the first time he has ever done that.  Previously he has had the instinctual response of running to me and/or crying.  But this time he just wanted to hold my hand.  It was just too sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-115989275808538099?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/115989275808538099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=115989275808538099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/115989275808538099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/115989275808538099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/10/well-now-i-am-starting-to-love-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-115962139577368988</id><published>2006-09-30T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T06:03:15.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I am really really new to this blogging thing and I have tons of questions.  Like how do I create a blogroll?  How do I put links up?  (just for example)  I am pretty technical but seem not to have the patience to learn the blogging thing to make it as useful as I want.  Then there is the problem of feeling like I don't have much to say beyond hello.  Maybe I had you at Hello? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess If I keep at it I could make interesting. I have certainly had enough people tell me that I am funny and should write so maybe we'll take a swing at posting and I'll warm up to it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-115962139577368988?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/115962139577368988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=115962139577368988' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/115962139577368988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/115962139577368988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/09/so-i-am-really-really-new-to-this.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34861318.post-115948632027870118</id><published>2006-09-28T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T16:32:13.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I love my kid. I want to have a blog so that I can tell the world how cool and wonderful and smart and beautiful he is. All I can ever come up with is that I just love my kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34861318-115948632027870118?l=bensmom04.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/feeds/115948632027870118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34861318&amp;postID=115948632027870118' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/115948632027870118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34861318/posts/default/115948632027870118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bensmom04.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-love-my-kid.html' title=''/><author><name>BensMom04</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01889895364784362307</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JBxJ_Hf5RGI/Rwl6WEJXDeI/AAAAAAAAABc/NFbqmpy4IvA/s320/benmom.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
