<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594</id><updated>2009-11-02T15:42:03.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baxters Blogging</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>171</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-2196475634876970548</id><published>2009-10-26T21:05:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T21:10:27.752-06:00</updated><title type='text'>So You Think You Can Be a Rock Star</title><content type='html'>Finally, the end of the day had come.  The kids were in their jammies and playing nicely. . . but what were they playing.  &lt;br /&gt;"Are you guys going on vacation?" I asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"NO, we're rock stars!"  &lt;br /&gt;Ah.  Yes.  Now I can see.  I don't know how I didn't guess that to begin with.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZkhYqh0UI/AAAAAAAAEzA/5wqUHF6mvEY/s1600-h/P1040579.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZkhYqh0UI/AAAAAAAAEzA/5wqUHF6mvEY/s400/P1040579.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397111728169406786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-2196475634876970548?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/2196475634876970548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=2196475634876970548&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2196475634876970548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2196475634876970548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-you-think-you-can-be-rock-star.html' title='So You Think You Can Be a Rock Star'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZkhYqh0UI/AAAAAAAAEzA/5wqUHF6mvEY/s72-c/P1040579.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-2895426707288172402</id><published>2009-10-26T20:44:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T21:26:09.923-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pumkins,  Apples,  and A Big Big Mess</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZe_ob_GxI/AAAAAAAAEyY/47xEEEoNFcs/s1600-h/P1040568.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZe_ob_GxI/AAAAAAAAEyY/47xEEEoNFcs/s400/P1040568.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397105650729687826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZf93oefUI/AAAAAAAAEyo/QlcFSjP3v3s/s1600-h/P1040570.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZf93oefUI/AAAAAAAAEyo/QlcFSjP3v3s/s400/P1040570.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397106719960497474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZfjeIYg4I/AAAAAAAAEyg/6wRS0WAuDCo/s1600-h/P1040577.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZfjeIYg4I/AAAAAAAAEyg/6wRS0WAuDCo/s400/P1040577.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397106266438402946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZgdBkSeFI/AAAAAAAAEyw/gFxHGXCnXI8/s1600-h/P1040565.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZgdBkSeFI/AAAAAAAAEyw/gFxHGXCnXI8/s400/P1040565.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397107255203231826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZi1qHXU7I/AAAAAAAAEy4/989DEBXegh4/s1600-h/P1040560.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZi1qHXU7I/AAAAAAAAEy4/989DEBXegh4/s400/P1040560.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397109877427884978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZoQeulrPI/AAAAAAAAEzQ/pMz-t4EefsM/s1600-h/P1040574.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZoQeulrPI/AAAAAAAAEzQ/pMz-t4EefsM/s400/P1040574.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397115835785784562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-2895426707288172402?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/2895426707288172402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=2895426707288172402&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2895426707288172402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2895426707288172402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/pumkins-apples-and-big-big-mess.html' title='Pumkins,  Apples,  and A Big Big Mess'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuZe_ob_GxI/AAAAAAAAEyY/47xEEEoNFcs/s72-c/P1040568.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-1169766446839770790</id><published>2009-10-23T22:59:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T23:21:32.125-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Another Day</title><content type='html'>Today I was a little camera happy.  Sometimes, I just want to snap shot my day.  This or that. . . just a moment frozen in time.  It started this morning.  Nate was home when the kids woke up.  One by one they all filed in and piled on top of him.  Hey, he's a fun Dad.  And they love it when he teases them. . . like when he says "Group Hug!" and smashes them all together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKK57bHYhI/AAAAAAAAEx0/33F_QS72iJg/s1600-h/P1040510.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKK57bHYhI/AAAAAAAAEx0/33F_QS72iJg/s400/P1040510.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396028031351874066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, Nate had to be to work at 11:30.  When he left, it seemed all the happiness of the morning went with it.  Those three little scoundrels started fighting.  First, Emily and Rachel wanted the same chair. . . then Ben and Rachel wanted the same chair. . . then Emily wanted Ben's toy. . . then Rachel didn't want to play with Ben. . . and on and on.  I thought I might pull my hair out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKLVymxgUI/AAAAAAAAEx8/emTgtFoVEs4/s1600-h/P1040516.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKLVymxgUI/AAAAAAAAEx8/emTgtFoVEs4/s400/P1040516.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396028510021189954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally left the house to purchase something for dinner at the Walmart.  It was a break, I guess.  Except for me repeating "Get off the cart.  Your too big and heavy and I can't turn it" like 10,000 times.  Really, I used to like them to hold on to the cart but now it's like pushing around 100 extra pounds.  Unfortunately, I haven't been keeping up on my weight lifting.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, by the time we got home our friendly little neighbor came to invite Rachel over and that saved us from more fighting.  Ben retreated to play games on the computer and Emily and I played peek-a-boo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKMBAkJotI/AAAAAAAAEyE/lGpVEMTInmE/s1600-h/P1040529.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKMBAkJotI/AAAAAAAAEyE/lGpVEMTInmE/s400/P1040529.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396029252502659794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKM2B8kQpI/AAAAAAAAEyM/2XZZwJSs7bA/s1600-h/P1040531.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKM2B8kQpI/AAAAAAAAEyM/2XZZwJSs7bA/s400/P1040531.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396030163406570130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years from now I will read this blog and naively say "Oh, that was so fun. Look at those cute kids.  I miss those days."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-1169766446839770790?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/1169766446839770790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=1169766446839770790&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/1169766446839770790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/1169766446839770790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/just-another-day.html' title='Just Another Day'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SuKK57bHYhI/AAAAAAAAEx0/33F_QS72iJg/s72-c/P1040510.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-2638538711055804317</id><published>2009-10-21T10:02:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T10:24:45.780-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Success!</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I really worry about screwing up my kids.  So much so that I think I might not have anymore children. . . I mean. . . how bad can a mess up on just three children.  And messing up three would be better than messing up five.  Right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Rachel has been having a little problem with major tantrums.  She is a very headstrong girl.  And, frankly, I think it gives her an adrenaline rush to fight a battle, which seems to be the perfect brewing ground for her tantrums.  Now, you might think that I would be an expert with such behavior.  I mean, I spent all last year dealing with this exact behavior everyday.  Alas, many times I get frustrated with her and have to remove myself to my bedroom for prayer and meditation before I do something I may well regret. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Well, I have tried to institute a sticker system.  Each kid has 5 things they can do each day to earn a sticker.  The stickers can be exchanged for a treat at the store, friday night movies, happy meals, and other fun activities.  This plan has been working pretty well.  Rachel has been doing better with her tantrums.  But, last night I had real success.  Rachel was in the throws of a rather huge tantrum.  During family scriptures she was playing with a toy telephone. &lt;br /&gt;"Rachel, if I hear that phone make one more noise I am taking it away and you won't get it back for a week."  &lt;br /&gt;Shortly thereafter, what did I hear.  Oh yes, one more noise.  She just had to test the limits.  So I took the phone. . . and then the tantrum erupted.  But the success came about 2 minutes into the tantrum.  She calmed down just a little and I said &lt;br /&gt;"Rachel, do you know what I liked about what you did today?"  She stopped and looked at me "What?"&lt;br /&gt;"I liked how nice you were to Emily today.  Thank you for being such a good sister."&lt;br /&gt;"Do you know what else I liked about what you did today?"&lt;br /&gt;What?&lt;br /&gt;"I liked that you didn't fight with Ben all day.  You did a good job on that today."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just like that the tantrum ended.  I have been thinking about this.  I posted a Bill Cosby sketch on facebook today.  In it he talks about how parents often get a perma frown on their face.  Picking up on the negative, we forget to point out the positive.  Well, here's proof that the positive has power to overcome the negative.  I spent half of my expensive college years learning it.  Positive Power.  It's going to be my motto from now on.  I can do it!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-2638538711055804317?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/2638538711055804317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=2638538711055804317&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2638538711055804317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2638538711055804317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/success.html' title='Success!'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-2777290893383071582</id><published>2009-10-19T09:23:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T09:55:14.196-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pumpkin Painting</title><content type='html'>This weekend was a big disappointment for our sweet children.  See, every year the Baxters throw a Halloween Party for all the grandchildren.  They go to a pumpkin patch and have a scavenger hunt as well as other games.  Well, after much anticipation, when the time came our family was sick.  I couldn't bring myself to spread our pathetic situation to our relatives.  So, to make up for it we purchased pumpkins and painted them.  A small consolation, I know, but the kids accepted it.  &lt;br /&gt;The smallest child creates a beautiful piece of abstract art. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyFc5dDtnI/AAAAAAAAExA/t4dlB-voiXw/s1600-h/P1040494.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyFc5dDtnI/AAAAAAAAExA/t4dlB-voiXw/s400/P1040494.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394333185188542066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slightly less abstract with a face is Rachel's pumpkin masterpiece.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyF2I6Ja0I/AAAAAAAAExI/9SC89M0rIEg/s1600-h/P1040490.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyF2I6Ja0I/AAAAAAAAExI/9SC89M0rIEg/s400/P1040490.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394333618833812290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben planned his out but then his creativity got the best of him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyGVSoLSvI/AAAAAAAAExQ/VGaereznoZM/s1600-h/P1040487.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyGVSoLSvI/AAAAAAAAExQ/VGaereznoZM/s400/P1040487.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394334154018736882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a stirring pumpkin patch scene&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyG64HU7JI/AAAAAAAAExY/rKWlmmM3l9M/s1600-h/P1040495.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyG64HU7JI/AAAAAAAAExY/rKWlmmM3l9M/s400/P1040495.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394334799736663186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Nathan went with a witch.  No, I was not posing as his inspiration.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyHSdtYGUI/AAAAAAAAExg/grWPbgjir0E/s1600-h/P1040488.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyHSdtYGUI/AAAAAAAAExg/grWPbgjir0E/s400/P1040488.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394335204965357890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clean up time.  Gee, where did everyone go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyLt0-8ZcI/AAAAAAAAExo/N-Z43_jf9-Y/s1600-h/P1040499.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyLt0-8ZcI/AAAAAAAAExo/N-Z43_jf9-Y/s400/P1040499.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394340073116034498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next on to the costumes.  I have to come up with Harry Potter as well as two Barbie Three Musketeers.  Good luck to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-2777290893383071582?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/2777290893383071582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=2777290893383071582&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2777290893383071582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2777290893383071582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/pumpkin-painting.html' title='Pumpkin Painting'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyFc5dDtnI/AAAAAAAAExA/t4dlB-voiXw/s72-c/P1040494.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-6196963797567831428</id><published>2009-10-19T09:14:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T09:22:41.544-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Ben Loves His Class</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyCtHbam6I/AAAAAAAAEw4/OcvsSjPsCyI/s1600-h/P1040477.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyCtHbam6I/AAAAAAAAEw4/OcvsSjPsCyI/s400/P1040477.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394330165282773922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben loves his first grade class.  I didn't know exactly why until this last week.  The kids were preparing for a treasure hunt.  They talked about it all week.  The night before the treasure Ben told me that I better get him to school on time the following day because they were doing the treasure hunt first thing in the morning.  Apparently I am often late bringing Ben to school. . . I don't know what he's talking about.  :)  Anyway, Ben woke up bright and early the next morning and got to school earlier than he ever has.  When I picked him up after school he came out clad as the pirate and immediately showed me his treasures.  They had a list of things to find in nature. . leaves, rocks, sticks. . . and they also found gold (gold painted rocks that is).  He came home with quite a stash and now I know why he likes his new class.  What a great thing it is for elementary students to have fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-6196963797567831428?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/6196963797567831428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=6196963797567831428&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/6196963797567831428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/6196963797567831428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/why-ben-loves-his-class.html' title='Why Ben Loves His Class'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyCtHbam6I/AAAAAAAAEw4/OcvsSjPsCyI/s72-c/P1040477.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-4223636038470823310</id><published>2009-10-19T09:08:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T09:13:14.975-06:00</updated><title type='text'>While You Were Sleeping</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyBMnr20iI/AAAAAAAAEww/MHrfXC4XdVk/s1600-h/P1040500.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyBMnr20iI/AAAAAAAAEww/MHrfXC4XdVk/s400/P1040500.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394328507494355490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, when I crept into the girls room to tuck them in I encountered this sweet vision.  All of her beanie babies protected in her arms.  And Emily sleeping so peacefully with them.  I just couldn't resist the photo op.  It's so easy to be a parent when the children look like this. . . why can't they look like this all the time? I would get a lot more done.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-4223636038470823310?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/4223636038470823310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=4223636038470823310&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/4223636038470823310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/4223636038470823310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/while-you-were-sleeping.html' title='While You Were Sleeping'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StyBMnr20iI/AAAAAAAAEww/MHrfXC4XdVk/s72-c/P1040500.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-2788681031576106870</id><published>2009-10-18T21:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T21:28:13.929-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sniff, sniff, cough, cough, sleep, sleep,</title><content type='html'>Well, if you haven't had the swine flu yet. . . I think I can safely let you know that it stinks!  The last week and a half has been filled with it in our family and it's still going.  Starts with congestion and runny nose then moves into the chest for a deep cough.  Rachel laid on the couch for an entire week.  I was so happy the day she smiled and got up to play with Emily.  I got sick and tried to be strong.  I am sure Nathan would attest to the complete opposite as I called him each day practically begging him to come home so I could just lie in bed.  He even skipped his bishopric meetings one night so I could do just that. &lt;br /&gt;Anyway, while Rachel and I have served our time in the torture chamber, Nate, Ben, and Emily have just begun.  Hang in there guys.  I have to admit I am a little paranoid.  The news makes you think that you might die if you get this flu.  So far we are still living. . . apparently defying the odds.  I was going to get my whole family vaccinated but I guess we got it done for free.  Just have to sacrifice our comfort.  Dang Swine Flu!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-2788681031576106870?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/2788681031576106870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=2788681031576106870&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2788681031576106870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2788681031576106870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/sniff-sniff-cough-cough-sleep-sleep.html' title='Sniff, sniff, cough, cough, sleep, sleep,'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-21363204563925865</id><published>2009-10-10T18:15:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T18:52:03.001-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Little Buttercup</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEkQNkbwEI/AAAAAAAAEwU/OIvJzCgaTpw/s1600-h/P1040463.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEkQNkbwEI/AAAAAAAAEwU/OIvJzCgaTpw/s400/P1040463.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391130089878175810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week we celebrated Emily's 3rd birthday.  I can't believe my youngest is three now.  It makes me feel like I should probably get cracking if we want to have any more little munchkins.  But, that is for another years post. &lt;br /&gt;Emily was the perfect birth.  I was induced first thing in the morning.  I had Emily around 1:30 in the afternoon.  I relaxed and enjoyed her for the rest of the day and left the hospital promptly the next morning.  It was awesome.  And Emily was an easy baby.  She is not so easy now seeing as she still has absolutely no intention to potty train and she likes to make me smell her feet.  (She does it just to irritate me too.) Speaking of irritating me on purpose, yesterday Emily dropped a cracker on the floor.  I picked it up and told her not to drop anymore on the floor because it would make a mess.  I headed toward the stairs only to hear the sound of another falling cracker.  Emily, you need to pick that up.  She smiled her evil smile and said "you pick it up."  Then, to up the stakes, she put her foot right over the cracker, taunting me with smashing it. &lt;br /&gt;Hmmm.  "Emily, you are going to have to clean up what ever mess that cracker makes."  I continued up the stairs.  Later when I came back down I found the broom, dust pan, and cracker bits in the place Emily had been.  I confess, I finished cleaning up the mess.  I mean, she had obviously given it some effort.  She's a handful.  All of our kids our sometimes.  But, I love that.  It shows personality and independence.  Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEmZ15REuI/AAAAAAAAEwk/ihnshgfy9lU/s1600-h/DSC04955.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEmZ15REuI/AAAAAAAAEwk/ihnshgfy9lU/s400/DSC04955.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391132454345052898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEmDv__LhI/AAAAAAAAEwc/gfNW4OX14rk/s1600-h/DSC04943.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEmDv__LhI/AAAAAAAAEwc/gfNW4OX14rk/s400/DSC04943.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391132074805505554" 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/602743816597561594-21363204563925865?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/21363204563925865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=21363204563925865&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/21363204563925865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/21363204563925865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-little-buttercup.html' title='My Little Buttercup'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEkQNkbwEI/AAAAAAAAEwU/OIvJzCgaTpw/s72-c/P1040463.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-2212641763462771294</id><published>2009-10-10T17:58:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T18:14:10.768-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Steps</title><content type='html'>I love the movie "What About Bob".  In it Richard Dreyfus plays a psychologist who has written a book called "Baby Steps".  Anyway, that is irrelevant, excepting the fact that I feel like our family is taking baby steps to our future.  But, at least they are steps in the right direction.  This week was funny.  After waiting forever for Dillard's to get back to me about the job I thought they wanted me for Nathan and I finally gave up and decided he should get a second job.  Promptly following that conversation Dillard's did call to offer me the job.  Too little, too late.  Nate and I had already put together our plan.  He went back to a former employer and got himself hired on for some part time work.  We both feel good about that plan.  I'll miss Nathan though.  It's lonely at night when I am putting the kids to bed all by myself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I have been thinking about this all week and I finally made the connection that baby steps are necessary.  When Nathan graduated I expected huge changes to just drop at my feet.  It's taken me this long to accept that God means it when he says "line upon line" or "by small means are great things accomplished".  Patience with the process of reaching our goals is part of what we have to learn in this life.  Most of the time, though there are some exceptions, getting where we want to be will always take hard work and patience.  Otherwise, we experience very little growth.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great things are happening.  Nathan loves his day job.  He is learning so much there and they are pretty nice to him.  Hey, I got to say, seeing Nathan love doing the work that he put so much blood, sweat, and tears (maybe just one of those) into training to do is a gift.  I want him to be happy because he is going to be paying me back for my support and encouragement for many years to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-2212641763462771294?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/2212641763462771294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=2212641763462771294&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2212641763462771294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2212641763462771294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/baby-steps.html' title='Baby Steps'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-3457578049493017087</id><published>2009-10-10T17:49:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T17:57:28.269-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Proud. . . of Myself :)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEfFWRlgxI/AAAAAAAAEwM/PLMe3iT6Dpo/s1600-h/P1040409.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEfFWRlgxI/AAAAAAAAEwM/PLMe3iT6Dpo/s400/P1040409.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391124405678342930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O.k.  I completed my very first canning project this year.  We have a huge amount of grapes growing on the side of our yard.  In the 4 years that we have lived here I have never given these a thought, really.  Then, this year I was chatting with a friend of mine outside and she said, oh I love these grapes.  She began eating them as we chatted.  Surprised, I thought I might try one.  And guess what, they were good.  So, I juiced them and made grape jelly.  Thank goodness I ran into a friend at walmart when I was searching for cheese cloth to do my juicing.  She had a steamer for juicing that was awesome.  Although, I let the water dry up once and scorched her poor pot.  I hope she forgives me.  We actually drank most of the juice but it doesn't take much to make the jelly.  The jelly turned out perfect.  With the exception of the fact that the recipe called for 7 cups of sugar to 5 cups of juice.  I couldn't believe that, however it was necessary.  Believe me, I tried to find a recipe that didn't call for those ratios.  Anyway, in the end, when used sparingly, it is delicious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-3457578049493017087?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/3457578049493017087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=3457578049493017087&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/3457578049493017087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/3457578049493017087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/10/proud-of-myself.html' title='Proud. . . of Myself :)'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/StEfFWRlgxI/AAAAAAAAEwM/PLMe3iT6Dpo/s72-c/P1040409.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-5630449758518516352</id><published>2009-09-28T16:53:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T22:20:55.705-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Lot Can Happen in Nine Years</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE_Pd4gkAI/AAAAAAAAEvs/QAbzLyRYiAA/s1600-h/img015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE_Pd4gkAI/AAAAAAAAEvs/QAbzLyRYiAA/s400/img015.jpg" border="0" %alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386656164264054786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate and I just celebrated our ninth anniversary.  It's crazy how different life is from when we first met doing dishes at Little Caesars.  Who would have thought we'd actually get married and populate the world with little crazy people (just kidding kids). We have had a great time. . . most of the time.  We have had good times, bad times, successes, and failures.  Whatever we have done we have been in it 100% together.  I think that's what makes our marriage work.  Nate is my very best friend. I love him!  I mean, only a great man would take his wife to Color Me Mine to paint celebratory plates for their anniversary date. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsFBJHNqUsI/AAAAAAAAEv8/KcUBUQVuJEk/s1600-h/P1040393.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsFBJHNqUsI/AAAAAAAAEv8/KcUBUQVuJEk/s400/P1040393.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386658254122799810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We also had a fun time hiking a trail up Squaw Peak. . .really, all we did was hike. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE_rw-YLmI/AAAAAAAAEv0/WrEdLXeCUDg/s1600-h/P1040384.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE_rw-YLmI/AAAAAAAAEv0/WrEdLXeCUDg/s400/P1040384.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386656650425282146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We finally used a gift certificate Nathan's brother gave him on graduation to the Olive Garden.  And of course, what date would be complete without a walk around Walmart.  I was a wonderful anniversary.  A special thanks to my big sister who let my kids stay at her house so Nate and I could enjoy our anniversary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-5630449758518516352?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/5630449758518516352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=5630449758518516352&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5630449758518516352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5630449758518516352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/alot-can-happen-in-nine-years.html' title='A Lot Can Happen in Nine Years'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE_Pd4gkAI/AAAAAAAAEvs/QAbzLyRYiAA/s72-c/img015.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-5590450109410487880</id><published>2009-09-28T16:30:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T16:52:11.809-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Feelin Alive at Five</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE8P7arMCI/AAAAAAAAEvU/WZaKrofmaXk/s1600-h/2004_0924Rachelbirth0009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE8P7arMCI/AAAAAAAAEvU/WZaKrofmaXk/s400/2004_0924Rachelbirth0009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386652873657102370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel turned five.  Last night we watched some video from her birth.  What a perfect day.  Well, the one hour of the day we enjoyed before Rachel was born.  We woke up at 6 am the day before and were hoping to get into the hospital for me to be induced.  Well, we finally got to go in around 3 in the afternoon which meant I had her just after midnight.   The epidural was perfect and she just popped out. . . well it wasn't too bad anyway.  I remember being absolutely starved right after.  The nurses didn't want to give me any food because they were afraid I would throw up.  It took me awhile to convince them I needed more than soda crackers and sprite.  After all was said and done, I didn't get to sleep until about 4 am, but it was worth it.  Rachel came into our lives peacefully and beautifully. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE9GEbgwNI/AAAAAAAAEvc/Y4unHiC5XCg/s1600-h/2004_0924Rachelbirth0005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE9GEbgwNI/AAAAAAAAEvc/Y4unHiC5XCg/s400/2004_0924Rachelbirth0005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386653803789467858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I can't say that things are still so peaceful and beautiful but she is a lot of fun to have around.  I love her so much.  She had a fun birthday and we ended up with an impromptu party.  The kids in the neighborhood just heard we had cake and ice cream in the backyard and they came out of the woodwork.  Then, of course, since Ben went swimming for his birthday, Rachel wanted the same.  We had a great time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE7asYVs5I/AAAAAAAAEvM/uVMwL4TD-zI/s1600-h/P1040371.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE7asYVs5I/AAAAAAAAEvM/uVMwL4TD-zI/s400/P1040371.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386651959087707026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE9kTdj_fI/AAAAAAAAEvk/MLltbsHtLL8/s1600-h/P1040367.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE9kTdj_fI/AAAAAAAAEvk/MLltbsHtLL8/s400/P1040367.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386654323220676082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-5590450109410487880?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/5590450109410487880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=5590450109410487880&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5590450109410487880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5590450109410487880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/feelin-alive-at-five.html' title='Feelin Alive at Five'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE8P7arMCI/AAAAAAAAEvU/WZaKrofmaXk/s72-c/2004_0924Rachelbirth0009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-816094918407210454</id><published>2009-09-28T16:15:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T16:21:34.466-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Latest Project</title><content type='html'>I love projects.  And I love pulling Nathan into my projects.  Our latest was to make magnetic boards for the kids rooms.  We have a fabulous neighbor who was able to get us scrap metal.  Nate built the frames and I decorated them. :) They are imperfect (as all of our projects tend to be) but I like them.  I think they look pretty cute.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE2q0SJ-yI/AAAAAAAAEvE/SPUeYtnS9Dw/s1600-h/P1040349.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE2q0SJ-yI/AAAAAAAAEvE/SPUeYtnS9Dw/s400/P1040349.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386646738529024802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE2VCuWOFI/AAAAAAAAEu8/Pxe_rV1rbSg/s1600-h/P1040346.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE2VCuWOFI/AAAAAAAAEu8/Pxe_rV1rbSg/s400/P1040346.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386646364448241746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-816094918407210454?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/816094918407210454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=816094918407210454&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/816094918407210454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/816094918407210454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/our-latest-project.html' title='Our Latest Project'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SsE2q0SJ-yI/AAAAAAAAEvE/SPUeYtnS9Dw/s72-c/P1040349.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-3163914008968629422</id><published>2009-09-22T20:50:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T21:10:01.784-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We Try So Hard</title><content type='html'>Family scripture at our house lasts a total of 5 minutes.  Really, sometimes it's less than that.  Sadly, even that 5 minutes is too long for us. Five minutes is just enough time for the kids to start kicking each other and complaining about how they don't have enough room.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmOlOIgk7I/AAAAAAAAEuc/xwSB99u71pM/s1600-h/P1040350.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmOlOIgk7I/AAAAAAAAEuc/xwSB99u71pM/s400/P1040350.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384491599598228402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's enough time for Nathan to have to get up and try to control the situation so we might actually be able to hear the scriptures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmPwqlZMyI/AAAAAAAAEus/c5lZoQfoMJw/s1600-h/P1040352.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmPwqlZMyI/AAAAAAAAEus/c5lZoQfoMJw/s400/P1040352.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384492895725761314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmPOIuzi-I/AAAAAAAAEuk/mrylGSZ8lX8/s1600-h/P1040354.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmPOIuzi-I/AAAAAAAAEuk/mrylGSZ8lX8/s400/P1040354.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384492302522878946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it is enough time for us to be glad when that five minutes has expired.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmRUNaTlnI/AAAAAAAAEu0/HAxSa8Bzrw8/s1600-h/P1040356.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmRUNaTlnI/AAAAAAAAEu0/HAxSa8Bzrw8/s400/P1040356.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384494605881546354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am sure, many, many years down the road we will be glad we did this and realize the fruits of our labors.  I'm sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-3163914008968629422?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/3163914008968629422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=3163914008968629422&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/3163914008968629422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/3163914008968629422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/we-try-so-hard.html' title='We Try So Hard'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SrmOlOIgk7I/AAAAAAAAEuc/xwSB99u71pM/s72-c/P1040350.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-6140354037749337267</id><published>2009-09-20T14:17:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T14:57:14.486-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Week's Highlights</title><content type='html'>This week started with Ben heading back to first grade.  Ben is an August 31st birthday.  That means he has been the absolute youngest in his class during his first two years of school.  I have often worried about this.  When school started this year Nate and I talked about it again.  After contemplating for a couple weeks we decided that the pros of having Ben repeat first grade outweighed the cons.  We sat Ben down and told him he could choose to stay in second grade, but that he would always be the youngest in his class or he could choose to return the the first grade for another round and be the oldest.  He told us he wanted to be the oldest.  So, Monday he started his first grade class.  He started crying when he woke up in the morning.  I felt so bad.  But, I knew it was the right thing for him.  We got him to school and voila, he was fine.  He actually loves being in first grade again.  He has n't even given it a second thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate's job continues to go well.  He is still only a contracted employee and the only way he will become a permanent hire there is if another engineer quits or the company gets busier.  He love the company and the people.   I told Nathan he needs to start giving some of the other engineers job referrals.  "Hey, I saw a great job in the paper this week that you'd be perfect for."  If we could just get someone to quit.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't heard anything on my Dillard's job.  They had to send the hire into the corporate office the be approved and I guess they are slow there.  So, I am still keeping my eyes open for other possibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We splurged and went to Golden Corral this week.  It's the only restaurant I dare take my kids to.  With Ben and Rachel getting bigger we decided to let them wander off to fill their own plates.  What did this result in, you might ask.  Rachel returned with a plate full of jello and Ben returned with a plate full of spaghetti and ten strawberries.  Nate and I just about died laughing, to which Ben took great offense.  He's so sensitive.  In the end we all had belly aches.  The invention of the buffet was a terrible thing to do to people who are addicted to food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today Elder Hales of the quorum of the twelve apostles came and spoke to our stake in a special conference.  His talk jumped around but I had to laugh when he told us a personal experience.  He had a few years where his health was not good.  He had to have several surgeries.  One of these was a surgery that had never been done.  He said he often prayed and wondered why he was going through this trial.  At one point he said he offered a prayer in which he said " Whatever you are trying to teach me, I have learned it. Trust me."  I laughed because that's how I feel.  Alas, he then told us then some of our trials are not meant to teach lessons at all, but simply to give us experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the experience continues for our family.  We have it drilled into the kids that we are on a tight budget.  A couple of days ago, in the car we were talking about how one day, when we have our own house, we might build a clubhouse in the back yard.  I suggested maybe we could build a big one like our cousins have at their house to which Ben responded "No, that won't be necessary.  We won't have enough money for that.  Just a small one."  Good kid.  But one day we will build a big one.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-6140354037749337267?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/6140354037749337267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=6140354037749337267&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/6140354037749337267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/6140354037749337267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/weeks-highlights.html' title='Week&apos;s Highlights'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-5608104324101906878</id><published>2009-09-20T13:54:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T14:16:45.838-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Peachy</title><content type='html'>This month Brigham City celebrated their famous "Peach Days".  Well, in my head I thought "Yummy.  Peaches.  Let's go."  So, we packed up and drove the half an hour to the quaint town of Brigham City.  I was hoping to find many delicious things made with peaches.  Unfortunately, there was only one booth selling fresh peach cobbler and the line was about a mile long.  We ended up with Funnel Cakes which we happily shared.  They were pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraNVk6SuaI/AAAAAAAAEuM/znG1kd--8g8/s1600-h/P1040336.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraNVk6SuaI/AAAAAAAAEuM/znG1kd--8g8/s400/P1040336.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383645806392949154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraNGIEdPcI/AAAAAAAAEuE/ROp228v0l2Y/s1600-h/P1040339.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraNGIEdPcI/AAAAAAAAEuE/ROp228v0l2Y/s400/P1040339.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383645540952915394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraM8QmkTCI/AAAAAAAAEt8/2U1OnF-bQn0/s1600-h/P1040337.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraM8QmkTCI/AAAAAAAAEt8/2U1OnF-bQn0/s400/P1040337.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383645371444775970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had a lot of great crafty booths but the kids were only interested in one thing.  Rides.  Now, Nathan and I, like any kind loving parents, want our children to be happy.  Really.  But when I saw the cost of those carnival rides I just about turned around and left.  The Ferris Wheel would have cost our family $20 for one ride.    We managed to satisfy the children with a cheaper car ride and a huge slide ride.  They were happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraMlPI5oFI/AAAAAAAAEt0/0SmFKzh1g_0/s1600-h/P1040320.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraMlPI5oFI/AAAAAAAAEt0/0SmFKzh1g_0/s400/P1040320.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383644975914917970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraMSXlhnbI/AAAAAAAAEts/C7zELUm_oQw/s1600-h/P1040326.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraMSXlhnbI/AAAAAAAAEts/C7zELUm_oQw/s400/P1040326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383644651764948402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it ended up being an interesting evening.  To tell you the truth, I found it extremely entertaining to just watch the people.  You get quite a variety at a Saturday night fair.  I can only imagine what the State Fair would look like.  Yikes!  I guess we'll try again next year.  Maybe there will be more peaches.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-5608104324101906878?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/5608104324101906878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=5608104324101906878&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5608104324101906878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5608104324101906878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/just-peachy.html' title='Just Peachy'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraNVk6SuaI/AAAAAAAAEuM/znG1kd--8g8/s72-c/P1040336.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-6353755981725292834</id><published>2009-09-20T13:15:00.012-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T13:53:14.484-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Climb Every Mountain</title><content type='html'>Being a hamster in the Baxter household means days full of adventure.  You might get to follow a bread crumb trail around a train track.  Just watch out for the trains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraFZ8O1CkI/AAAAAAAAEtM/7eRuzsnxA2w/s1600-h/P1040309.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraFZ8O1CkI/AAAAAAAAEtM/7eRuzsnxA2w/s320/P1040309.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383637085279554114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraE6Gw1s5I/AAAAAAAAEtE/-eBptJkmJFE/s1600-h/P1040311.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraE6Gw1s5I/AAAAAAAAEtE/-eBptJkmJFE/s320/P1040311.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383636538350744466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might get to climb a high mountain and then use a wonderful little slide to get from the top to the bottom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraBGy5xXFI/AAAAAAAAEs8/rbYZab2PYs8/s1600-h/P1040312.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraBGy5xXFI/AAAAAAAAEs8/rbYZab2PYs8/s400/P1040312.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383632358311287890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in the end, you'll fall asleep in that mountain and refuse to come out, leaving mother Baxter with only one option.  Remove the top of the mountain to pull you out. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraAsWEzfmI/AAAAAAAAEs0/o7QXEk50tO8/s1600-h/P1040313.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraAsWEzfmI/AAAAAAAAEs0/o7QXEk50tO8/s320/P1040313.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383631903896338018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; But hey, no worries, there is plenty of food, everywhere.  And I do mean everywhere. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraHBakcgWI/AAAAAAAAEtc/LfKvFp5Fq1M/s1600-h/P1040305.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 181px; height: 136px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraHBakcgWI/AAAAAAAAEtc/LfKvFp5Fq1M/s200/P1040305.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383638862949810530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraGixobCiI/AAAAAAAAEtU/tS8RtL4a7H0/s1600-h/P1040306.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraGixobCiI/AAAAAAAAEtU/tS8RtL4a7H0/s200/P1040306.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383638336564562466" 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/602743816597561594-6353755981725292834?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/6353755981725292834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=6353755981725292834&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/6353755981725292834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/6353755981725292834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/climb-every-mountain.html' title='Climb Every Mountain'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SraFZ8O1CkI/AAAAAAAAEtM/7eRuzsnxA2w/s72-c/P1040309.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-8544436869225052194</id><published>2009-09-08T09:24:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T10:53:47.069-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Ends with a Bang</title><content type='html'>I have to say that we are a very lucky family.   We have two sets of wonderful, active grandparents who love to get together.   So, this weekend we had to find a way to be with both.  Thursday night we drove to Thayne Wyoming to stay with Tom and Mary in a beautiful log cabin (really, it was a log house) on a golf course and only an hour away from Jackson Hole.   Even after driving 5 hours (we missed a turn off and extended our drive by an hour) and arriving at midnight our kids still said it was worth it because the log house was so cool. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqZ8k1RWngI/AAAAAAAAEqI/zZN00XgBRow/s1600-h/P1040045.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 221px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqZ8k1RWngI/AAAAAAAAEqI/zZN00XgBRow/s200/P1040045.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379123777157635586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Friday morning we got up and drove into Jackson Hole.  We hiked a newly developed trail that was a three mile loop to a gorgeous lake that was owned by the Rockefeller's until a few years ago. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaB7L7JRcI/AAAAAAAAEqw/wjt2Ka0EmKE/s1600-h/P1040081.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaB7L7JRcI/AAAAAAAAEqw/wjt2Ka0EmKE/s400/P1040081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379129658753762754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shopped a little and Nate and I reminisced a lot. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqZ-DAB8YjI/AAAAAAAAEqQ/V0ydnpY02j8/s1600-h/P1040053.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 221px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqZ-DAB8YjI/AAAAAAAAEqQ/V0ydnpY02j8/s200/P1040053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379125394953495090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent our honeymoon in Jackson Hole, the Tetons, and Yellowstone.   Tom and Mary even gave us  the night off and let us have a date which was so fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Us then.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaA9Q32FlI/AAAAAAAAEqg/kkPOh_sy5gU/s1600-h/img014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaA9Q32FlI/AAAAAAAAEqg/kkPOh_sy5gU/s400/img014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379128594930210386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Us now.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaBTAYmPwI/AAAAAAAAEqo/PVy8iWA68dk/s1600-h/P1040069.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaBTAYmPwI/AAAAAAAAEqo/PVy8iWA68dk/s400/P1040069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379128968461303554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Saturday we went golfing.  We did as much as possible to disobey golf edicate by letting our kids hang with us while we golfed and even drive the golf carts.  They had a blast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaCbARQA9I/AAAAAAAAEq4/lBH-_r2u0w4/s1600-h/P1040097.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaCbARQA9I/AAAAAAAAEq4/lBH-_r2u0w4/s400/P1040097.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379130205381067730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And, of course, to my horror, we spent Saturday night watching the BYU game.   I said that we didn't drive all that way to watch tv.   Nathan said that this particular BYU game was huge and that he must watch it.   Honestly, I am glad we did watch it because I would have never heard the end of it if I had made him miss that amazing game.   Even I was interested in the last three minutes.   We drove home after the game arriving in our drive way at one a.m.   Exhausted we all fell into bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know you are all bored but the second half of our weekend was about to begin.   After church and Nathan's first time conducting in sacrament meeting(he only messed up a little)  we headed in the opposite direction to Aspen Lakes, the camp where my parents have been serving as camp hosts this summer.   We arrived there just in time to put up a tent and go to sleep.   We spent the next day motorcycling, playing on the ropes course, and zooming down the zip line. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaGJqiILJI/AAAAAAAAErg/NShZPs32Uss/s1600-h/P1040181.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaGJqiILJI/AAAAAAAAErg/NShZPs32Uss/s400/P1040181.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379134305535011986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaFdfT2s_I/AAAAAAAAErY/REOOzGWghao/s1600-h/P1040165.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaFdfT2s_I/AAAAAAAAErY/REOOzGWghao/s400/P1040165.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379133546608112626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaHoF7ZNOI/AAAAAAAAErw/5htEeS7u93w/s1600-h/P1040268.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaHoF7ZNOI/AAAAAAAAErw/5htEeS7u93w/s400/P1040268.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379135927796446434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaHH-91p8I/AAAAAAAAEro/nWf2c6o6hYs/s1600-h/P1040255.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaHH-91p8I/AAAAAAAAEro/nWf2c6o6hYs/s400/P1040255.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379135376171837378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Nate and I even made a determined climb to the peak of a hill where we stumbled on a huge flock of sheep and were almost attacked by sheep dogs. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaE0AzHw7I/AAAAAAAAErQ/CcjaChdTcyE/s1600-h/P1040120.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaE0AzHw7I/AAAAAAAAErQ/CcjaChdTcyE/s400/P1040120.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379132834043118514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaEbdDqvnI/AAAAAAAAErI/yd155g-aIRo/s1600-h/P1040108.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaEbdDqvnI/AAAAAAAAErI/yd155g-aIRo/s400/P1040108.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379132412131982962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaEF7y-A7I/AAAAAAAAErA/9R3jv9VCK1o/s1600-h/P1040107.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaEF7y-A7I/AAAAAAAAErA/9R3jv9VCK1o/s400/P1040107.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379132042426319794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We all played, got very dirty, and had a super fabulous time.  The kids were very brave jumping in the ice cold water from the zip line.   I did it and I thought I was going to die.   I couldn't move my body.   Poor Rachel wanted to jump in so bad.   She had watched Conner, Ben, and Sophie all brave it but when it came to her she just couldn't do it.   She wouldn't get out of the swing when we pulled her back in.   She was so embarrassed that she couldn't do it.   She said "I want to jump in but I am too scared."   It took me a while an letting her use my camera to convince her that it was ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought this particular photo was kind of artistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaINWHt-AI/AAAAAAAAEr4/pRn9XhM4R-w/s1600-h/P1040298.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqaINWHt-AI/AAAAAAAAEr4/pRn9XhM4R-w/s400/P1040298.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379136567798265858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after that whirlwind weekend and  about 15 hours of driving we are all exhausted.   My house is kind of messy.  And, instead of taking care of it I am sitting here remembering our trip and wishing we could be having more fun.   We are so lucky to have such great family.   Can't wait to be together again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-8544436869225052194?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/8544436869225052194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=8544436869225052194&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/8544436869225052194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/8544436869225052194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/summer-ends-with-bang.html' title='Summer Ends with a Bang'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SqZ8k1RWngI/AAAAAAAAEqI/zZN00XgBRow/s72-c/P1040045.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-5883317778307135561</id><published>2009-09-01T09:05:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T09:41:29.146-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ben Turns Seven. . . Holy Cow!</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-v5gUQykQ7g&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-v5gUQykQ7g&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always get nervous when the birthday season rolls around.  My three kids all have birthdays within a months time.  I am not very good at planning kid parties. . . in fact. . .I always put it off too long and just try to have a family party.  Then I stress about whether it will be fun enough to make the kids like their birthday.  Well, yesterday was Ben's birthday.  Aside from getting the hamster we made his day by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)  Letting him stay home from school.  Hey it was his birthday. I called the school to excuse him the secretary asked me if he was sick.  "No.  It's his birthday"  I said confidently.  I could hear the giggle in her reply.  Maybe birthday's are not a legitimate excuse to the school but they definitely are to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)  We went to Mcdonald's.  Oh, the amazing happiness that comes into a child's life because of a happy meal and the playland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)  We baked him a cake.  Do not judge me.  I am not a professional. . . just close to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp07DEkf1bI/AAAAAAAAEpg/K2Th2x2yPaY/s1600-h/P1030995.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp07DEkf1bI/AAAAAAAAEpg/K2Th2x2yPaY/s200/P1030995.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376518454102709682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4)  We made Ben cards.  He giggled when he looked at Emily's.  She just scribbles.  But she was so cute when she said "Happy Birday Ben."  No one can resist her charm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp07igRQ4zI/AAAAAAAAEpo/jpAoBo0XA1o/s1600-h/P1040009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp07igRQ4zI/AAAAAAAAEpo/jpAoBo0XA1o/s200/P1040009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376518994114175794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5)  We squeezed in a few other presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp07_RknpqI/AAAAAAAAEpw/F4-mhYr19Eg/s1600-h/P1040003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp07_RknpqI/AAAAAAAAEpw/F4-mhYr19Eg/s200/P1040003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376519488385033890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6)  We wrapped up the night with swimming at the local outdoor pool where Ben showed off his seven year oldness by insisting on going through the lazy river by himself.  He is so proud that he can touch the bottom.  Rachel had her own moment of glory.  She learned to float on her back.  Man was she beaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp08gd09B7I/AAAAAAAAEp4/PhjX8RFV9_k/s1600-h/P1040020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp08gd09B7I/AAAAAAAAEp4/PhjX8RFV9_k/s200/P1040020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376520058610452402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp0811wpA-I/AAAAAAAAEqA/iKjBFI0fuLw/s1600-h/P1040029.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp0811wpA-I/AAAAAAAAEqA/iKjBFI0fuLw/s200/P1040029.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376520425812067298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, despite my non professional abilities in birthday partying Ben had a great day.  I am so glad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-5883317778307135561?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/5883317778307135561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=5883317778307135561&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5883317778307135561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5883317778307135561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/09/ben-turns-seven-holy-cow.html' title='Ben Turns Seven. . . Holy Cow!'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Sp07DEkf1bI/AAAAAAAAEpg/K2Th2x2yPaY/s72-c/P1030995.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-1779473637590394968</id><published>2009-08-29T21:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-29T21:55:25.355-06:00</updated><title type='text'>By Their Fruits Ye Shall Know Them</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Spn4JhoWabI/AAAAAAAAEpY/AezePD121g8/s1600-h/P1030990.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Spn4JhoWabI/AAAAAAAAEpY/AezePD121g8/s400/P1030990.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375600472773519794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We live in a community of humble, good people.  People who love us despite our faults and give to us just because they are good.  Everyone knows that summer's end is the harvest.  Nate and I, unfortunately, have never had a harvest.  But we reap the benefits of many others hard work.  We have had numerous neighbors give to us from their gardens this year.  Every time I thank them heartily because, really, you can't beat garden tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, green peppers, and on and on.  Just today I was given a bag full of ripe beautiful vegetables.  I have eaten a quarter of the tomatoes by myself in the last hour.  This blog is just to say thank you to him who giveth. . . and I hope to remind me someday. . .when I have a beautiful garden. . . because I will one day. . . oh yes. . I will. . . that I need to give back to someone else.  That's what makes people neighbors and neighbors friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-1779473637590394968?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/1779473637590394968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=1779473637590394968&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/1779473637590394968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/1779473637590394968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/08/by-their-fruits-ye-shall-know-them.html' title='By Their Fruits Ye Shall Know Them'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Spn4JhoWabI/AAAAAAAAEpY/AezePD121g8/s72-c/P1030990.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-2835943358907941251</id><published>2009-08-28T21:27:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T22:09:03.629-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pets and Princesses</title><content type='html'>This past week has been interesting.  Ben went back to school and Nathan was at work.  So, for the first time in about a year it was just me and the girls again.  The first day was nightmarish.  Rachel was very tired from waking early and whined most to the day.  My reaction to this was less then patient and loving.  The second day we did much better and by the third day I was on a role.  When the girls were annoying me I suggested they have a tea party.  And then to make it really attractive I told them we would make cookies for our tea party.  It worked like a charm.  They were entertained by something besides TV and I got to feel like I was a good mom. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SpinUMFcubI/AAAAAAAAEpQ/mInftrf4lX0/s1600-h/P1030966.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SpinUMFcubI/AAAAAAAAEpQ/mInftrf4lX0/s400/P1030966.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375230120549988786" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SpimzXUvNtI/AAAAAAAAEpI/s3KBG-A9cCE/s1600-h/P1030970.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SpimzXUvNtI/AAAAAAAAEpI/s3KBG-A9cCE/s400/P1030970.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375229556631221970" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Monday is Ben's 7th birthday.  Time flies.  Anyway, the other night I had a dream.  In my dream I was at walmart where there were teachers with their classroom pets.  One of the teachers had two tree frogs.  I was so excited to hold these and play with them.  I woke up and I thought, Ben needs a pet.  So, tonight, for his birthday he went to Petco and found a hamster. . . which he lovingly name Orie. . . short for orange because his hamster is kind of orange.  This is also Ben's favorite color.  We actually went to Pets Mart first but they only carried female hamsters.  I was thinking that Ben wouldn't know the difference but he can read.  He found no "male" hamsters.  So we had to go to another store.  A boy needs a boy pet.  We have all spent the evening facinated by Orie's amazing feats.  He is quite talented and can even hang from the top of his cage grasping on with all fours.  Ben says this is the best present he has ever had.  I think it kind of stinks. . . literally.  But Orie is a great present. &lt;br /&gt;Sorry about the X rated nature of this photo.  At first I thought that Orie was relieving himself but then after several of the same shots it dawned on me that maybe Orie is just well endowed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Spija1nlaaI/AAAAAAAAEpA/vJF5NKtSaOE/s1600-h/P1030981.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/Spija1nlaaI/AAAAAAAAEpA/vJF5NKtSaOE/s400/P1030981.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375225836731722146" 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/602743816597561594-2835943358907941251?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/2835943358907941251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=2835943358907941251&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2835943358907941251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/2835943358907941251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/08/pets-and-princesses.html' title='Pets and Princesses'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SpinUMFcubI/AAAAAAAAEpQ/mInftrf4lX0/s72-c/P1030966.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-5550578887888705994</id><published>2009-08-26T17:03:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T17:11:00.958-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Handsome Little Devil</title><content type='html'>Ben's first day of second grade.  I am still as protective of him as the day he went to kindergarten.  I worry and worry.  I don't know why.  He has always shown me he can handle things.  Anyway, he went back to Lincoln Elementary where he went in kindergarten.  I was unsuccessful at getting him into the other school.  That's a long story.  I am sure he will do just fine at Lincoln anyway.  He is just happy to be back surrounded by kids all day.  He is funny.  Last year we created a little tradition on the way home from school.  I would say,"So, Ben, do you want to tell me about your day?"  He would always say yes.  I would turn off the radio and listen to him talk all the way home.  This year, I am not working so we don't have the long drive home. . . but the first thing he said when he got in the van on the first day was "Let me tell you about my day."  I am glad that tradition is holding strong.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SpW_vaeqRmI/AAAAAAAAEo0/wTpYAslhj0g/s1600-h/P1030958.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SpW_vaeqRmI/AAAAAAAAEo0/wTpYAslhj0g/s400/P1030958.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374412551619233378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-5550578887888705994?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/5550578887888705994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=5550578887888705994&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5550578887888705994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/5550578887888705994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-handsome-little-devil.html' title='What a Handsome Little Devil'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SpW_vaeqRmI/AAAAAAAAEo0/wTpYAslhj0g/s72-c/P1030958.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-7079317977273643206</id><published>2009-08-17T21:54:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T22:09:51.163-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What Goes Up Must Come Down</title><content type='html'>Well, I did it.  I finally got up the courage to go over to this brand new elementary school in my area. . . but not in my district. . .to try to get Ben enrolled there.  I have been such a chicken thinking they would just stare at me.  Anyway, I went in and told the secretary I wanted to enroll my boy there.  She said that they were really full and the only way he would even have a chance would be if he was a second grader.  I think I screamed for joy at her "He is a second grader!"  I know I was just beaming.  I am sure it was funny.  Anyway, tomorrow I will go fill out some paperwork and get Ben in.  I am really excited.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SooowTwKUkI/AAAAAAAAEos/QKfQltDFV9o/s1600-h/noe.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SooowTwKUkI/AAAAAAAAEos/QKfQltDFV9o/s320/noe.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371150315993846338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;In other news, I got a call on this job I am hoping to get.  I have an interview Thursday.  I think this is a great option and will leave me some time to be a mom still. Your prayers are appreciated seeing as they want a spanish speaker.  Perhaps you can all pray for me to get the gift tongues.  HEHEHE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it was a fabulous day.  I was so excited I decided to take the kids to the mall.  On the way I called my mom to tell her my good news.  I was grinning ear to ear when I heard gagging noises from the back seat followed by full heaving.  Emily threw up like 5 times.  Oh well, it's impossible to go up without coming back down at some point.  Not everything can go perfect.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-7079317977273643206?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/7079317977273643206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=7079317977273643206&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/7079317977273643206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/7079317977273643206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-goes-up-must-come-down.html' title='What Goes Up Must Come Down'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SooowTwKUkI/AAAAAAAAEos/QKfQltDFV9o/s72-c/noe.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-602743816597561594.post-7506379781454240697</id><published>2009-08-15T22:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T22:07:34.621-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's No Wonder Making Bread Makes Happy Kids</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SoeF46pCxFI/AAAAAAAAEoc/BjB-4QMU9Kw/s1600-h/P1030905.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SoeF46pCxFI/AAAAAAAAEoc/BjB-4QMU9Kw/s320/P1030905.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370408293523178578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/602743816597561594-7506379781454240697?l=baxtersblogging.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/feeds/7506379781454240697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=602743816597561594&amp;postID=7506379781454240697&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/7506379781454240697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/602743816597561594/posts/default/7506379781454240697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://baxtersblogging.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-no-wonder-making-bread-makes-happy.html' title='It&apos;s No Wonder Making Bread Makes Happy Kids'/><author><name>Steph</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04684707031216783930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='16340728519381868094'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXbpsHZgx5I/SoeF46pCxFI/AAAAAAAAEoc/BjB-4QMU9Kw/s72-c/P1030905.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry></feed>