<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051</id><updated>2011-08-01T19:48:33.833-07:00</updated><category term='-'/><title type='text'>If we weren't all crazy........</title><subtitle type='html'>we would go INSANE!!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-992202072491037969</id><published>2010-07-27T11:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T08:38:04.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The New Camera</title><content type='html'>Right before &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Joss&lt;/span&gt; was born I decided I needed a new digital camera. I know absolutely nothing about cameras. I mean &lt;em&gt;nothing.&lt;/em&gt; I ended up getting a great little Canon off of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Craigslist&lt;/span&gt;. This thing is loaded with fancy settings. It took me a long time to get the darn thing to take a nice picture. I had to adjust all kinds of settings. Things I've never heard of like &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;aptiture&lt;/span&gt;, shudder speed, image &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;stabilization&lt;/span&gt;, blah, blah, blah... I'm making it my goal to take lots of great pictures while I'm on my maternity leave. The other day I thought I'd try and get a few pictures of the boys together. Here's how it turned out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So first things first...get both boys in the chair. Check. Okay next step, focus the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498666049529078114" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8vo4yuYWI/AAAAAAAAALo/lvyMJXHUN0E/s320/IMG_8551.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously I was too slow. Fighting ensues...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8rgU_0K2I/AAAAAAAAALY/BHPjXVc712c/s1600/IMG_8554.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498661504434842466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8rgU_0K2I/AAAAAAAAALY/BHPjXVc712c/s320/IMG_8554.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Hair pulling got a good reaction. Let's try a good ole round house kick to the face shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8rgHgilxI/AAAAAAAAALQ/4luY9TjWjVs/s1600/IMG_8553.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498661500814006034" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8rgHgilxI/AAAAAAAAALQ/4luY9TjWjVs/s320/IMG_8553.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The kick to the face doesn't phase Randy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8rgjVCB8I/AAAAAAAAALg/vuBzD8iLKiU/s1600/IMG_8555.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498661508281927618" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8rgjVCB8I/AAAAAAAAALg/vuBzD8iLKiU/s320/IMG_8555.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not exactly sure why Reece is the one crying here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8rfxOrPDI/AAAAAAAAALI/n8DIMMRG2G0/s1600/IMG_8552.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498661494833495090" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8rfxOrPDI/AAAAAAAAALI/n8DIMMRG2G0/s320/IMG_8552.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I do know that if I'd have taken one more picture in the series, it would have been Randy biting Reece. I drew the line with biting and put the camera down. Oh well. Maybe I'll have better luck next time!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-992202072491037969?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/992202072491037969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/07/new-camera.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/992202072491037969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/992202072491037969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/07/new-camera.html' title='The New Camera'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE8vo4yuYWI/AAAAAAAAALo/lvyMJXHUN0E/s72-c/IMG_8551.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-7241473342871854233</id><published>2010-07-26T12:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T11:47:37.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm baaaccckk</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;It's been over 2 months since my last blog update.  Yikes!  I promise that I have a few good excuses though.  We were lucky enough to move the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt; into a new house.  One with lots and lots of room for them to run and ruin things, along with a big backyard and a play house.  The move went extremely well considering I was 8 months pregnant at the time.  I can't give enough credit to our friends and family for helping us for countless hours.  There is no way this could have gone as well as it did without all of their help.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In other news:  On July 1st Miss Jocelyn Elise joined our family.  She is sweet as can be. Nothing like at all like the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt;.  Please keep your fingers crossed for us that she doesn't switch teams on us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498299594422418658" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iWZI4_OI/AAAAAAAAAK4/Nec0-OBCwVs/s320/family+July+2010+162.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iV3_YyMI/AAAAAAAAAKw/LV-ER6K7twU/s1600/family+July+2010+156.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498299585524189378" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iV3_YyMI/AAAAAAAAAKw/LV-ER6K7twU/s320/family+July+2010+156.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iVZ-bMXI/AAAAAAAAAKo/slRAOrIGaT0/s1600/family+July+2010+115.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498299577467089266" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iVZ-bMXI/AAAAAAAAAKo/slRAOrIGaT0/s320/family+July+2010+115.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iU5UiZ8I/AAAAAAAAAKg/CrHn4TObZcE/s1600/family+July+2010+086.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498299568701466562" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iU5UiZ8I/AAAAAAAAAKg/CrHn4TObZcE/s320/family+July+2010+086.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She really is as precious as she looks.  The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt; have adjusted quite well to the new addition.  In fact, they have surprised the heck out of Randy and I. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well folks, that's all for now.  I'm going to give it my best shot at blogging at least once a week from here on out.  There is way too much cuteness in my life right now to not share!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iVZ-bMXI/AAAAAAAAAKo/slRAOrIGaT0/s1600/family+July+2010+115.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iVZ-bMXI/AAAAAAAAAKo/slRAOrIGaT0/s1600/family+July+2010+115.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-7241473342871854233?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7241473342871854233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/07/im-baaaccckk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/7241473342871854233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/7241473342871854233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/07/im-baaaccckk.html' title='I&apos;m baaaccckk'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/TE3iWZI4_OI/AAAAAAAAAK4/Nec0-OBCwVs/s72-c/family+July+2010+162.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-7917855327822518820</id><published>2010-05-09T16:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T17:26:11.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia</title><content type='html'>We are moving to our new house this week.  It's a day that Randy and I have looked forward to for months and months, yet there hasn't been in a day in a week or so that I didn't get teary eyed when thinking about moving.  Each time my eyes got misty, I couldn't put my finger on exactly why that was.  My goodness, we are moving to a beautiful house a little bit outside of the city.  It has nearly double the square footage that we have now and a huge yard for the boys to play in.  Why am I the least bit sad to leave our condo?  Is it that I'll miss having our friends over all of the time?  Will I miss the nice short 15 minute commute to work?  Maybe it's that I'll be over 10 minutes from the nearest fast food restaurant?  The question puzzled me until tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been packing for weeks.  It takes a lot out of a pregnant lady to pack up a house, so I've been taking my time.  After I put the boys to sleep tonight, I realized that their room was the only room in the house that isn't littered with moving boxes.  Each picture is still perfectly positioned on the walls.  Nothing looks out of the norm.  As I was folding a load of laundry, it hit me.  It's all about nostalgia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can vividly remember the day I picked up the keys to the condo.  Randy was still at work.  I was all alone in the house.  I remember laying on the floor in what would end up being the boy's room surrounded by white bare walls.  The place was dead silent.  I found myself day dreaming about what the future held for Randy and I.  While I was lying there, I pictured us getting married and probably having a baby.  I imagined what it would be like to bring a baby to our new home.  Never did I imagine that in less than five years later, I would be sitting here with twin boys and a baby girl on the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward three years from the time we just moved into the condo..  In that very same room I had my day dream, I found myself designing the perfect nursery for my baby boys.  I mulled over this nursery for hours upon hours each day.  After much searching, I finally found the perfect paint color, the perfect wall decor, the perfect bedding and mobiles, and a beautiful nursery lamp.   I moved the cribs around until the angles were just right.  Since that time, the boy's room has hands-down been my favorite room in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is in this room that I can still picture my two newborn babies sleeping next to each other in their crib.  They were so tiny and perfect.  Randy and I would stand over their crib while they slept and marvel at the fact that there were TWO perfect babies sleeping in the crib.    I can remember the uneasy feeling of being a new mom.  I remember sleeping on the floor of their room when they were newborns because they got up to frequently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is here that night after night I go in and peak on my babies before bed.  Each night, I am amazed with them.  It's so unbelievable how fast they grow.  I love watching them sleep.  Somehow, watching them sleep, takes away all of the stress of the day. To this day, their room is my last stop before I go to bed.  It never fails that I leave their room grinning ear to ear.  I usually comment to Randy something to the effect of "they are so beautiful" or "I love them so much".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be taking down the nursery sometime later this week.  I'm sure I'll cry the entire time but I'll blame it on nostalgia (and I suppose the fact that I am a hormonal pregnant lady).  I'm sure in my mind I'll have flashbacks and wish that I could just keep the room forever.    After all, it reminds of a very special time in my life and brings me to the reality that the boys are growing up and we are growing as a family.  I know that I'll always have the memories, but I like having the room because it's tangible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very soon, we will make the perfect rooms for the boys and our baby girl at our new house. Like the nursery, these rooms that will help create unforgettable memories as well..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-7917855327822518820?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7917855327822518820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/05/nostalgia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/7917855327822518820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/7917855327822518820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/05/nostalgia.html' title='Nostalgia'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-3563246462809445909</id><published>2010-05-03T04:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T05:11:12.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What are little boys made of...</title><content type='html'>When I was pregnant with the twins, I hoped and hoped that I would have at least one little boy.  There is just something so magical and precious about little boys.  These two little beasts are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly &lt;/span&gt;what I had in mind when I dreamt of little boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are little boys through and through.  They love to get in trouble, really they do.  Not only do they love to get in trouble, it seems some days they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;live&lt;/span&gt; to get in trouble.  It may seem impossible for 18 month olds, but they know exactly what to do.  Their giggle when when they are doing something that they shouldn't be unmistakable.  I should also mention, when they are getting in trouble, it's always in tandem.  When one spots trouble, they use their secret "language" to communicate.  No joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They love to get dirty, use random household objects as weapons, and use the weapons to hit things or each other.  They think the world of trucks, tractors, heavy machinery, cows, puppies, birds and balls.  Little boys to the core.  I really couldn't have asked for little boys that are anymore "boy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend Daddy was out of town, so I took the boys to little boys paradise; up north to see my parents.  They had the time of their lives.  The beasts got to play in the sandbox, see horses and cows, ride on four-wheelers, eat ice cream cones, cheese balls, and half a water-melon, throw rocks in the pond, hang out with their big cousin Kade,  have a camp fire and stay up 2 hours past their bedtime each night.  They were in little boy heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968JNLfANI/AAAAAAAAAKY/ZVb71wCG5Nk/s1600/HPIM2690.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968JNLfANI/AAAAAAAAAKY/ZVb71wCG5Nk/s320/HPIM2690.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467013864017035474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reecey playing in the sand box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968I3k_wFI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/giwWvkBdutM/s1600/HPIM2695.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968I3k_wFI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/giwWvkBdutM/s320/HPIM2695.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467013858218459218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Grandpa Mike, Kade, Randy and Reece&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968IdIuYVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/DHjlGhApRlQ/s1600/HPIM2705.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968IdIuYVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/DHjlGhApRlQ/s320/HPIM2705.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467013851120558418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy enjoying his first ever ice cream cone.  Please note his messy shirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Below: Uncle Joey and Reece sitting by the campfire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968Hw72FfI/AAAAAAAAAKA/1t1Gmmkp_vY/s1600/HPIM2711.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968Hw72FfI/AAAAAAAAAKA/1t1Gmmkp_vY/s320/HPIM2711.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467013839255377394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-3563246462809445909?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/3563246462809445909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-are-little-boys-made-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/3563246462809445909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/3563246462809445909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-are-little-boys-made-of.html' title='What are little boys made of...'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S968JNLfANI/AAAAAAAAAKY/ZVb71wCG5Nk/s72-c/HPIM2690.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-6881672821679761521</id><published>2010-01-12T06:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-18T10:01:34.558-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Top 3 Things That Make 15 Month &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Olds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Awesome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  They can walk!!  While the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; are still a little wobbly at times, they can move around pretty well.  Running from room to room, up and down the stairs...In some respects, this makes life a little easier.  For example, I don't have to carry them two at a time down the stairs!  In fact, I now &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;run&lt;/span&gt; down the stairs.  It takes them at least 1 minute to get down, so in this time I can start getting their snacks ready.  Sneaky mama..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  They can say a few words.  Both boys say mama, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;dada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;baba&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, ball, car, my (this is Marley, our dog), no-no, and probably a bunch more that I am forgetting.  I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;particularly&lt;/span&gt; love it when we go in to get the boys in the morning and their little faces light up and they shout "mama"  "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;dada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;".  Totally melts my heart, each and every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1Rsh2pS-zI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-z6hM57PAyk/s1600-h/HPIM2481.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1Rsh2pS-zI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-z6hM57PAyk/s320/HPIM2481.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428082779748498226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Randy is always full of smiles and&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; always&lt;/span&gt; has a lot to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  They give hugs and kisses.  They are still a little stingy, but they are getting there.  Randy likes to hug, but once in awhile he sneaks in a little bite on the shoulder.  He gives good kisses though.  In fact, he even makes a kissing sound.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Reecey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;snuggler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, especially at night.  His kisses however, are more like head-butts.  He recently started "kissing" Marley.  She is not impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Top 3 Things That Make 15 Month &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Olds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Tough&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  They can walk.  Like I said: up and down the stairs, running from room to room, going opposite directions.  Yikes!  I thought it was bad when they could crawl.  Now that they are walking, it added about 6 more inches on to there "reach level".  Not only can they rummage through all of the cabinets and dresser drawers, now they can reach door knobs, bathroom sink drawers, you name it, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; are there.  The only time our house is clean is between the hours of 6:30 pm and 6:00 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RrvgMm4wI/AAAAAAAAAII/YmBRQ965ino/s1600-h/HPIM2487.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 349px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RrvgMm4wI/AAAAAAAAAII/YmBRQ965ino/s320/HPIM2487.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428081914729128706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;For some odd reason, both boys absolutely love Marley's kennel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RshBfkSxI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/hHfw84bDyEk/s1600-h/HPIM2486.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RshBfkSxI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/hHfw84bDyEk/s320/HPIM2486.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428082765480610578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RshaDsGAI/AAAAAAAAAIY/o7LrGypVea8/s1600-h/HPIM2484.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RshaDsGAI/AAAAAAAAAIY/o7LrGypVea8/s320/HPIM2484.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428082772074567682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RshmNj5kI/AAAAAAAAAIg/c5uBzi0-ZDQ/s1600-h/HPIM2483.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RshmNj5kI/AAAAAAAAAIg/c5uBzi0-ZDQ/s320/HPIM2483.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428082775337199170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RsicXfjSI/AAAAAAAAAIw/i-Rg4b2tDUw/s1600-h/HPIM2479.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1RsicXfjSI/AAAAAAAAAIw/i-Rg4b2tDUw/s320/HPIM2479.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428082789874371874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that they like to push buttons?  They love to type and turn the TV on and off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;2.  They can say a few words.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; hate when I leave for work in the morning.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Reecey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; recently starting following me around when  I'm getting ready.  Right before I leave, he cries and shakes his head while saying "no no, no no mama".  Whew!  Gets me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt;.  According to Daddy, he "recovers" in less than a minute.  Now a days, there isn't much that a few Cheerios won't heal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  No more drive-through for me.  A few months ago, we got a new vehicle.  The old one was just too small.  When we switched over the car seats to the new vehicle, we decided to go forward facing.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; really thought this is cool.  Randy and I thought it was neat at first too.  It was sweet to see their cute little faces happily looking out the window when we were driving.  Then we stopped at a drive-through.  Crying, begging and whining immediately ensue.  We had no choice but to share.  Fast food drive-through used to be my "escape".  I could eat a meal in peace.  I didn't have to share or listen to whining and crying.  Not that they could actually see that there was food, all bets were off.  For this reason, I'm considering flipping the seats back to rear facing.  That way, I'd be acting in accordance to the American Academy of Pediatrics by keeping them rear-facing for 2 years, and most importantly, I could eat my fries in peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And now....picture overload!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1SfmR67SQI/AAAAAAAAAJA/n0wZHiip8MQ/s1600-h/HPIM2478.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1SfmR67SQI/AAAAAAAAAJA/n0wZHiip8MQ/s320/HPIM2478.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428138930882693378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Reecey&lt;/span&gt; riding his new four-wheeler.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Now, I'm about to be really brave here and show you what my house looks like on a daily basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1SfmgQeHpI/AAAAAAAAAJI/dK4qo7Gm9zQ/s1600-h/HPIM2490.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1SfmgQeHpI/AAAAAAAAAJI/dK4qo7Gm9zQ/s320/HPIM2490.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428138934731153042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy: about to get down to business..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1Sfm3HizxI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Mxt6BlJaBQg/s1600-h/HPIM2491.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1Sfm3HizxI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Mxt6BlJaBQg/s320/HPIM2491.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428138940867727122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He can barely reach, but that doesn't stop him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1SfnVSKKII/AAAAAAAAAJY/KgNIBkWI3Xs/s1600-h/HPIM2494.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1SfnVSKKII/AAAAAAAAAJY/KgNIBkWI3Xs/s320/HPIM2494.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428138948965312642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Reecey&lt;/span&gt; knows this is NOT a one-man kinda job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1ShSH23WjI/AAAAAAAAAJg/7U67KPP8Zwk/s1600-h/HPIM2495.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1ShSH23WjI/AAAAAAAAAJg/7U67KPP8Zwk/s320/HPIM2495.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428140783607175730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He too, must do his part for Operation &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Destructo&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1ShS__lUgI/AAAAAAAAAJw/dBxzlp3TJ9A/s1600-h/HPIM2499.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1ShS__lUgI/AAAAAAAAAJw/dBxzlp3TJ9A/s320/HPIM2499.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428140798676128258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1ShSlVltlI/AAAAAAAAAJo/44esrJKFAGs/s1600-h/HPIM2498.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1ShSlVltlI/AAAAAAAAAJo/44esrJKFAGs/s320/HPIM2498.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428140791520671314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1ShTLWm8pI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/Eh_PAsSDBOs/s1600-h/HPIM2508.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1ShTLWm8pI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/Eh_PAsSDBOs/s320/HPIM2508.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428140801725493906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mission completed...all in less than 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt; Solid work &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Rock Stars&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-6881672821679761521?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6881672821679761521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/01/top-3-things-that-make-15-month-olds.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/6881672821679761521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/6881672821679761521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2010/01/top-3-things-that-make-15-month-olds.html' title=''/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/S1Rsh2pS-zI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-z6hM57PAyk/s72-c/HPIM2481.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-2800089382977121007</id><published>2009-10-06T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T18:30:28.391-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='-'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="right"&gt;I had a heck of a time formatting this post, so I guess we're doing pictures first.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Below is a picture of the boys watching out the window for trucks. It's daily event in our house. Unfortunately, it almost always ends with one boy on the ground crying.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396707372659223234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0wzAVqsI/AAAAAAAAAHc/TpmeGvMFyaE/s320/HPIM2220.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;^&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396707368439584866" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0wjSTGGI/AAAAAAAAAHU/YuuZLy-3GWI/s320/HPIM2208.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;^ My big Reecey-Bear ^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0wERoPFI/AAAAAAAAAHM/zXQ7alfbpi4/s1600-h/HPIM2204.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396707360115276882" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0wERoPFI/AAAAAAAAAHM/zXQ7alfbpi4/s320/HPIM2204.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Me and boys are a "Rib Cook-Off" in September. Randy is on the right, Reece left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0v5HlI7I/AAAAAAAAAHE/MCbjCUHH4Wk/s1600-h/HPIM2199.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396707357120340914" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0v5HlI7I/AAAAAAAAAHE/MCbjCUHH4Wk/s320/HPIM2199.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Reece left, Randy right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0vu_ropI/AAAAAAAAAG8/GxK53fGBvRg/s1600-h/HPIM2196.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396707354402857618" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0vu_ropI/AAAAAAAAAG8/GxK53fGBvRg/s320/HPIM2196.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;^Randy playing in the grass ^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Taking the Big Beasties out in public is usually quite the ordeal. Really though, it's not what you think. This time, it's not their fault. The Big Beasties are &lt;em&gt;usually &lt;/em&gt;on their absolute BEST behavior when we are out and about. It's a phenomenon I can't explain. Here are two major problems: 1. People are crazy 2. Me lugging around the Big Beasties is a logistical nightmare sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;1. Every time I go out in public with the boys, we somehow become a circus act all in itself. Random strangers are constantly gawking, asking questions and touching, yes touching the boys. At first I thought this was cute, but after awhile, I really just want to buy my groceries in peace. On any one trip to the store, we are stopped by countless people. Most of them want to know the answers to the following questions: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-Are they twins? "Yep, they sure are!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-Are they identical? "Nope. If you look closely, you'll see that one has blue eyes, one has brown, one has blond hair one has darker hair." I know I have to cut people a little slack on this one. The boys do look a lot alike. In fact, my Dad still gets them messed up. Why, I don't really know, but whatever, he's getting old. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Of course those are the two most common questions, but once in awhile, strangers get a little bit more personal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-Are they natural? This one really kills me. What I want to say is "Aren't all babies natural?" Instead, I smile and politely say "yes". How is this an appropriate questions for strangers to be asking? I don't know.....people are crazy. Sometimes I'd like to ask random parents of singletons if their babies are "natural". I can just imagine the looks I'd get. For some reason, people assume I used some form of fertility treatment because I have twins. (For the record, we DID NOT use fertility treatment. That being said, I certainly feel for people dealing with fertility issues.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-Did you have a natural birth? Here we go again...I think I'll start asking random women if they pushed their babies out their hoo-hoo or if they had a C-section. Again...is this an appropriate question to ask a stranger at Target, I don't think so. (For the record, I had a C-section and loved it.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;-You must really have your hands full!! Here' s my answer-"Yes, I do, but they are really good boys." What I want to say, "Yup, now get the heck out of my way! I need to finish my shopping before they start screaming..then I would certainly have my hands full!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Disclaimer: I really don't mind all of the questions and attention from random strangers. Honestly, it's really quite amusing. People NEVER cease to amaze me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;2. It's very difficult to go alone to certain places with the boys such as Blockbuster or the Post Office.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I never take the boys to Blockbuster with me. It's just too much work. Take the double stroller out, unload the boys, walk around the store for less than 5 minutes, put the boys back in the car, pack up the double stroller. Not worth it...that is unless you are desperate. I &lt;em&gt;was &lt;/em&gt;desperate once this summer. The boys were about 20lbs a piece at the time. For some dumb reason, I thought I could just carry them in the store with me instead of using the stroller. You know, skip a few, make things a little easier. As soon as I walked into the store I knew immediately that this was a &lt;strong&gt;BAD&lt;/strong&gt; idea. For starters, the second I walked in, everyone in the entire store stopped what they were doing and looked at me. (It must have been quite the sight I guess.) I knew the questions were about to start coming... Like I said, usually I am extra polite and answer all of the questions. This time however, I literally had my hands full. By the time I entered the store I was seriously out of breath. Why you ask? From lugging 40lbs of baby, plus two carriers from the parking lot into the store. It gets me every time. Instead of trying to answer the same old questions over and over while being out of breathe, what did I do? I bee lined it to the horror movie section. I made eye contact with no one...I then pretended to be really interested in horror movies until I caught my breath. It worked, but I never did it again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-2800089382977121007?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2800089382977121007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-had-heck-of-time-formatting-this-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/2800089382977121007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/2800089382977121007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-had-heck-of-time-formatting-this-post.html' title=''/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SuT0wzAVqsI/AAAAAAAAAHc/TpmeGvMFyaE/s72-c/HPIM2220.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-5147121869514819141</id><published>2009-08-27T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T19:30:01.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When I decided to start this blog, I thought it would serve as a platform for me to share my stories of raising the Big Beasties with our family and friends. While the blog has certainly done that, it has also become a way for me to document my experience and honest to goodness feelings throughout this journey. I decided awhile back that one day, I would print off the pages of this blog for the Big Beasties. I want them to hear my perspective on things (when they are older of coarse!). My hope is that they will see that they were a HUGE challenge for Randy and I, but also the most loved little boys ever. They bring us a tremendous amount of joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to take a moment to give thanks for all that I have. I know that in previous posts I've written about all of the challenges that Randy and I have faced. In no way do I want this misinterpreted as complaining about things. I am eternally grateful for my family. I am so lucky and I certainly realize this. The Big Beasties were born without any complications and have grown to be big (and I do mean BIG) healthy boys. It's easy to take health for granted, but I know that it is such a gift. I thank God everyday for my beautiful boys. I'm amazed by how they are growing and thriving as little men. I love them more than I ever dreamt possible. Quite simply, there are not enough words in the dictionary to adequately say how much I love them. I would do absolutely anything in the world for them. A parent's love is just unspeakable....Now, please forgive me for bragging about my Beasties for a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Randy-My little nutto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What does he do now a days? Constant motion!!! The only time he stops moving is immediately before he falls asleep. Here's what he's been up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.Lately, he likes to use me as his own personal jungle jim. He climbs and climbs. Once he gets to a standing position, he is not quite sure what to do so he tips over and just starts climbing again. He pretty much does this all day long. It never seems to get boring to him I guess. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.Randy is also doing his version of crawling. It's definitely not your traditional crawl, but then again, Randy is not your traditional kid. His crawl is a mix of "the worm" and the army crawl. It's a little slow, but he can get the job done. He picks a mission and accomplishes it at all costs. Some of his favorites missions include: tipping over our dog's food and water (if he is really fast and beats me to it, he gets to sample some of Marley's food), unplugging things such as the computer and TV, licking shoes and stealing Reece's toys. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.Randy currently has two teeth. He likes to pretend to hug me, but really he is just trying to bite my shoulder. He fooled me a few times and now I'm onto him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Randy can now stand unassisted while holding onto furniture. This is a little scary for me yet, but I'm trying to get over it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. He does "Rock N Roll". Basically, he rocks back and forth when we sing or when we tell him to "Rock N Roll." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. He also makes lot and lots of weird sounds, on command may I add, that I can't clearly describe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sure he does more than 6 things, but on to the pictures!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spclg2xVx0I/AAAAAAAAAFE/Go3NERjToeg/s1600-h/HPIM2164.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374805926678480706" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spclg2xVx0I/AAAAAAAAAFE/Go3NERjToeg/s320/HPIM2164.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374816927400850802" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SpcvhLp79XI/AAAAAAAAAFU/HFT4Meu0ZZs/s320/HPIM2138.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spcv1fXmYtI/AAAAAAAAAFc/0feHpDsPxb4/s1600-h/HPIM2168.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374817276290032338" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spcv1fXmYtI/AAAAAAAAAFc/0feHpDsPxb4/s320/HPIM2168.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc66rNRIwI/AAAAAAAAAGc/KlTb-kcFl14/s1600-h/HPIM2154.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374829459995173634" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc66rNRIwI/AAAAAAAAAGc/KlTb-kcFl14/s320/HPIM2154.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reecey Bear-I can't think of just one word to describe him. He is changing so much everyday. He went from being shy and quiet to an aggressive little Beasto. Here's what occupies Reece's day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Lots and lots of babbling. Everything from dadada, mamama, to gagaga. It's never quiet with Reece around. When he sees Daddy, he usually gets out dadada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Terrorizing Marley. He loves to pull her hair and not so gently pet her. The little Beastie finds this so hilarious. Speaking of things Reece finds hilarious...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Everything... He is a little giggle puss. He laughs at sneezes, burps, sounds on TV, funny faces you name it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. John Deere Tractors and trucks. He can't get enough of them. He pushes is tractor around and makes a tractor noise. It is so precious. He'll play content as can be as long as he has his tractor. He also likes to look out the window for trucks. I think the boy might turn into a gear head. (I hope not, but I think so.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. What I like to call "butt scooting". He gets everywhere he wants to go by scooting on his butt. He can darn near cross a room if he want to. If he can't figure out where he wants to go exactly, he just spins in circles on his butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Shakes his head no and yes when you say the words. I can already tell that he is partial to no.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc2D8LlsnI/AAAAAAAAAF8/OU8PmMHIhkg/s1600-h/HPIM2159.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374824121612218994" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc2D8LlsnI/AAAAAAAAAF8/OU8PmMHIhkg/s320/HPIM2159.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc05T6E_bI/AAAAAAAAAFk/o63CXzT9IwI/s1600-h/HPIM2150.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374822839491034546" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc05T6E_bI/AAAAAAAAAFk/o63CXzT9IwI/s320/HPIM2150.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc9eeuBuII/AAAAAAAAAGs/8cGhYhw88XM/s1600-h/HPIM2187.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374832274141460610" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc9eeuBuII/AAAAAAAAAGs/8cGhYhw88XM/s320/HPIM2187.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc98qabVcI/AAAAAAAAAG0/bzkSPDJEx4o/s1600-h/HPIM2161.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374832792676554178" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc98qabVcI/AAAAAAAAAG0/bzkSPDJEx4o/s320/HPIM2161.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most importantly in my world, the Big Beastie are FINALLY holding their own bottles. These boys are 10.5 months old!! It's about freakin' time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc2lZI6jpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/itn_aYsClJg/s1600-h/HPIM2193.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374824696321314450" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc2lZI6jpI/AAAAAAAAAGE/itn_aYsClJg/s320/HPIM2193.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;And finally, here is a picture of the Big Beasties doing the best they can so that I could get a picture of the two of them..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374825408206461506" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc3O1Hj2kI/AAAAAAAAAGM/LfEFnqqFNds/s320/HPIM2177.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc3u0UFCJI/AAAAAAAAAGU/OxhNbRTwM5Y/s1600-h/HPIM2178.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374825957746346130" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spc3u0UFCJI/AAAAAAAAAGU/OxhNbRTwM5Y/s320/HPIM2178.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-5147121869514819141?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5147121869514819141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/08/when-i-decided-to-start-this-blog-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/5147121869514819141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/5147121869514819141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/08/when-i-decided-to-start-this-blog-i.html' title=''/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Spclg2xVx0I/AAAAAAAAAFE/Go3NERjToeg/s72-c/HPIM2164.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-386811533388439848</id><published>2009-08-17T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T07:20:35.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cigarettes, Miracle Blankets and Vincent Jackson</title><content type='html'>Last fall/winter was easily the most difficult time of my life. While I was totally in love with my boys, I was also severly exhausted. Who knew that two little miracles would totally turn my life upside down? Looking back, as we quickly approach the Big Beasties first birthday, I now realize there were a few small things that saved my sanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Miracle Blankets&lt;br /&gt;Throughout my pregnancy, I had heard from other new moms about this blanket, that truly worked miracles they claimed. Supposedly it was a swaddle that was unbreakable. Moms claimed that their babies slept &lt;em&gt;hours&lt;/em&gt; longer at night when they used this blanket. I was not so convinced it would work for us. However after weeks and weeks of not sleeping longer than 2-3 hrs per stretch, I decided to give it a shot. I did a little research and was very disappointed to find out that these blankets sold for $30 a piece! Yikes!! I found my first Miracle Blanket on Craigslist. I tried it out on Reece the first night. It probably would've worked okay, but Randy continued to wake up ALL. NIGHT. LONG. The next day I decided I had to go big or go home. I found a second blanket on ebay. I counted down the hours until that thing arrived. I vividly remember watching out the window for the mailman to arrive. In my tired haze, I would perch myself next to the window. I felt like a crack head waiting for the crack to arrive. Nervously pacing my living room....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, the blanket arrives!! My husband really thought I was crazy for putting so much faith into a blanket. "This is not just a blanket honey...", I told him the first night. "This blanket is going to change our live."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, the blanket did in fact work. Randy and I refered to them as the "baby straight jackets". Every night, we snuggly secured the Big Beasties into their straight jackets. Almost immediately, they started sleeping 4hrs per stretch. Thank you Miracle Blanket. To all of you new parents out there, get one ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Cigarettes&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, I gave up smoking during the pregnancy. I really thought that I would not start again after the babies were born. When the boys were about 3 weeks old, I told Randy I was going to run to Blockbuster. Before I left, I snuck a cigarette from his pack. Of coarse as any good closet smoker would do, I grabbed lotion, gum and body spray as well.  (I didn't want him to know that I smoked.)   As I lit the cigarette, I was hoping it would taste really crappy. Nope. It was heaven. From that day on, I plotted when I could have my next cigarette, undetected. Smoking in secret turned into only smoking at night and then only with coffee and at night blah blah blah. Smoking was my escape. I would go outside, away the Big Beasties and just sit and smoke. It was my break. One cold wintery day, the Big Beasties were being extra beasty. Lots and lots of crying and whining. It was about 5:30, Randy wouldn't be home for 2 more hours. I was about to lose it when I got an idea. I put on my shoes and ran 10ft to the neighbors. I knocked on the door and asked them to bum a smoke. Of coarse they gave me one and asked if I wanted to come in. "No, " I replied, "the boys are at home." I they looked a bit shocked, but they could probably see the despair on my face. "What are they doing?" they asked. "Screaming their heads off," I told them. We went over and smoked on my porch. When we were done, my neighbor and I went inside only to find both boys fast asleep. (I was probably outside less than five minutes.) I remember this so clearly. It really saved me that day. Honestly, I was about to go nuts. Smoking was my out. Judge all you want..I did what I had to do. Ted and Lisa, thanks for saving me that day. I'm sure Randy and Reece thank you as well..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quick follow up: I quit smoking over 4 months ago. This time for good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Vincent Jackson &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SoljfjrV7BI/AAAAAAAAAE0/GIX3BsHQMLg/s1600-h/v+jack.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SoljvmYv00I/AAAAAAAAAE8/-b4q-iGgrcc/s1600-h/v+jack.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370933700025373506" style="WIDTH: 65px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 90px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SoljvmYv00I/AAAAAAAAAE8/-b4q-iGgrcc/s320/v+jack.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;For those of you who don't know, this is Vincent Jackson. He is a wide receiver for the San Diego Chargers. Though he doesn't know it, he too is responsible for saving my sanity. He was on my Fantasy Football team. With all of the stress on our lives, Randy and I lived for Sundays. We watched football from the time we woke up in the morning until we fell asleep at night. We started counting down to Sunday on Monday morning. Fantasy Football, made Sundays that much sweeter. V Jack was my star. Sunday after Sunday he came through for me. I ended up winning the Super Bowl of our league. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;The point of this post, is that little things can pull you through. For me it was Miracle Blankets, cigarettes and V Jack. What gets you through your dark days? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;(Disclaimer: I would also like to add that we couldn't have made it through without our wonderful families. They too were our angels. Secondly, I never smoked around the boys, and no I never neglected them. I love them more than anything else in the world, even if they are beasty.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SoljfjrV7BI/AAAAAAAAAE0/GIX3BsHQMLg/s1600-h/v+jack.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-386811533388439848?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/386811533388439848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/08/cigarettes-miracle-blankets-and-vincent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/386811533388439848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/386811533388439848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/08/cigarettes-miracle-blankets-and-vincent.html' title='Cigarettes, Miracle Blankets and Vincent Jackson'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SoljvmYv00I/AAAAAAAAAE8/-b4q-iGgrcc/s72-c/v+jack.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-2955375186715695231</id><published>2009-07-28T11:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T11:55:52.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sm9JP56cxDI/AAAAAAAAAEs/v3arN3uMNqE/s1600-h/boys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363586218814391346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sm9JP56cxDI/AAAAAAAAAEs/v3arN3uMNqE/s320/boys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So at the end of the last post I said that I would post pictures soon.  That is actually a little bit of a lie.  Our laptop is down, so I can't upload more pics, but I just happened to have this one saved.  Here's the four of us at a wedding this past weekend!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-2955375186715695231?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2955375186715695231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-at-end-of-last-post-i-said-that-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/2955375186715695231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/2955375186715695231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-at-end-of-last-post-i-said-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sm9JP56cxDI/AAAAAAAAAEs/v3arN3uMNqE/s72-c/boys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-2168955017999199340</id><published>2009-07-28T11:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T11:52:08.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>To my 10 loyal followers:&lt;br /&gt;I must apologize for my extended leave of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;absence&lt;/span&gt;.  I wish that I could report that Randy and I ran off to Mexico for another fun filled week, but no.  We have been busy cleaning and scrubbing our little (okay medium sized) butts off!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About two weeks ago, we thought that maybe we should consider selling our condo to get a bigger house.  The ole condo just isn't big enough for the Big &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt; and all of their "stuff".  To give you a little idea what I'm talking about, our living room the home of 2 red &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;race car&lt;/span&gt; walkers, 2 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;height chairs&lt;/span&gt;, 2 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;exersaucers&lt;/span&gt;, toys, balls, rattles, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;boppys&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;bumbos&lt;/span&gt;.  That's not all folks!  We can't forget Marley....  She has her kennel, food water and toys too!  Needless to say, we are packed to the max. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past two weeks, we somehow managed to clean our entire place, rent a 10x10x10 storage unit and fill it from floor to ceiling, clean out our garage, paint 3 rooms  and "stage" the entire house for showings.  In addition, we have attended two weddings and a bachelor party.  (All of these events were out of town mind you!)  If you are not impressed yet, you should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since Mommy and Daddy were preoccupied, the Big Beasties had to make their own fun.  They found all kinds of fun things to do on their own.  Trying to stick fingers in light sockets, knocking over ice cream pails of Pine Sol water on the carpet, tipping over bar stools ontop of themselves, eating Marley's toys and playing in garbages to name a few fun things they did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it was a very stressful, yet productive past few weeks.  Thank goodness it's over!!!  Hopefully we'll be able to sell soon so that the Big Beasties will have lots of room to play and do sassy Big Beastie things! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take care all!!&lt;br /&gt;PS I'll post a few recent pictures soon!  They are just too cute not to share.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-2168955017999199340?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/2168955017999199340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-my-10-loyal-followers-i-must.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/2168955017999199340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/2168955017999199340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-my-10-loyal-followers-i-must.html' title=''/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-5329065762883751169</id><published>2009-07-08T05:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T07:07:51.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our first family outing...</title><content type='html'>On our second sleep-deprived day home, the Big &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt; had their first doctor's appointment. Randy and I scrambled to get them ready and out the door on time. It was rough, but we got the job done. To be honest, I barely remember this part of the day. I think I was still wandering around in a haze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived at the clinic and unpacked our big double stroller.  Before we even made our way into the building, we were stopped by total strangers who wanted to see the boys and ask us a bunch of questions.  Are they twins? Yes, they are twins.  Are they identical?  Nope, not identical.  How do you tell them apart?  You must be &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; tired.  On and on...We didn't mind.  We were proud new parents.  (To this day, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; we go out, we get the same questions.  I'll save these stories for another day.)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys exam checked out perfectly. At the end of the appointment, the doctor looked over at Randy and I and asked us how we were holding up.  I guess he could see through our smiles.  Randy and I looked at each other, imagine the deer-in-headlights look.  I felt the tears welling up in my eyes.  There was no holding back.  I completely broke.  The three of talked about the struggles of becoming new parents, the stress of caring for two infants, and of coarse, the lack of sleep.  Randy held my hand the entire time.  At the end of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;conversation&lt;/span&gt;, the doctor told us that it WOULD get better.  Randy and I looked at each other, completely unconvinced.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSlLlm5dQI/AAAAAAAAAEM/WluO4X--BJs/s1600-h/HPIM1186.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSlLlm5dQI/AAAAAAAAAEM/WluO4X--BJs/s320/HPIM1186.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356087475342767362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy at the first doctor's appointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSlXssm7gI/AAAAAAAAAEU/OQ7aZzOe5F8/s1600-h/HPIM1189.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSlXssm7gI/AAAAAAAAAEU/OQ7aZzOe5F8/s320/HPIM1189.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356087683404197378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Big Beasties getting ready to leave the doctor's officel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;After our doctors appointment, we decided to take the boys to visit Grandma Sharon.   (Just a little more info for those who don't know:  Sharon runs a home for people with Alzheimer's.)  Once we arrived, the house was abuzz.  The ladies were just in love with the boys.  Grandma Sharon and the ladies took the boys.  Lots of awing, cuddling, kissing, and singing ensued.  For the first time in a week, Randy and I didn't have babies in our arms.  We immediately headed for the kitchen....We lucked out!  Fresh hot delicious chili!  We helped ourselves to a bowl.  In between bites, I looked up and Randy and I locked eyes.  Again, the tears returned to my eyes.  The stress was breaking me.  (Lack of sleep certainly didn't help these matters either.)  Randy reached over and grabbed my hand. I knew that every thing was going to be okay.  I must say, it was one of the most romantic moments of my life. Yes, a bowl of chili at the my mother-in-laws house.   That moment beat out our romantic time spent in Hawaii.  It beat out fancy dinners at high-end restaurants.  In that moment, I knew that I had a true partner.  Here' a picture from that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSlknu9dTI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Zfeq7_psaKk/s1600-h/HPIM1195.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSlknu9dTI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Zfeq7_psaKk/s320/HPIM1195.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356087905410184498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Please take note of how fabulous I look...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just for fun, here is a recent picture of the Big Beasties&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSluVKSxnI/AAAAAAAAAEk/gWQA_Ttgbu0/s1600-h/HPIM2124.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSluVKSxnI/AAAAAAAAAEk/gWQA_Ttgbu0/s320/HPIM2124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356088072223245938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa Joe was an extra for the movie "Public Enemies" hence the shirts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSlknu9dTI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Zfeq7_psaKk/s1600-h/HPIM1195.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-5329065762883751169?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5329065762883751169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/07/our-first-family-outing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/5329065762883751169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/5329065762883751169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/07/our-first-family-outing.html' title='Our first family outing...'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SlSlLlm5dQI/AAAAAAAAAEM/WluO4X--BJs/s72-c/HPIM1186.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-6211088608419998771</id><published>2009-06-30T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T09:43:21.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I remember it as if it were yesterday.....</title><content type='html'>Randy and I were so excited to bring our beautiful baby boys home.  We'd spent a good portion of the pregnancy day dreaming about lazy Sunday afternoons with our boys.  As luck would have it, we bought our boys home on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon.  We'd planned to spend the day snuggling babies and watching football.  There were two small problems with our plan.  The first being our lack of planning from a logistical perspective.   When we got home, we had to rearrange our living space a bit.  We had to make room for the pack n play, feeding supplies, changing supplies and all of our "souvenirs" from the hospital.  Getting organized took much longer than expected.  As we were about to find out, absolutely everything takes longer when you have two babies to manage.  The second problem with our little plan was that we had been planning on bringing the home the BEST BABIES ever, not the Big &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, my mom was there to help us.  The chaos of the day didn't seem to bother her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko0aY6ezPI/AAAAAAAAADE/B37OHp1X-zg/s1600-h/HPIM1147.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko0aY6ezPI/AAAAAAAAADE/B37OHp1X-zg/s320/HPIM1147.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353148735052238066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;In between helping us organize and making us dinner, she got her fair share of snuggling and kissing in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko09UjyP-I/AAAAAAAAADM/CYo6QW3eckY/s1600-h/HPIM1150.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko09UjyP-I/AAAAAAAAADM/CYo6QW3eckY/s320/HPIM1150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353149335178723298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Daddy also got in on the snuggle action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;By about 9:00, we were all thoroughly exhausted.  We decided to call it a night.  Randy and I thought it would be best for the boys to stay in the Pack N Play in  our room for the first few weeks.  I was nursing, so it seemed like a good idea.  We put the boys in the Pack N Play and turned out the lights.  I think we were in bed for a full 5 minutes before it all went south.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the boys had the hiccups and eventually started fussing.  I got up and walked around with my tiny baby for awhile.  Once he appeared to be asleep I gently placed him back down and crawl into my cozy warm bed.  All in days work I thought....Another 2 minutes or so goes by, lots and lots of little farts, of course, followed by fussing.   This time it was the other one.  Oh well, no big deal.  I again snuggle by sweet boy back to sleep.  And again, I'm all tucked in my warm bed.  (By this time, Daddy is fast asleep.)   Hiccups again!  Are you kidding me?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think at this point I decided to put the boys in the nursery in their cribs. (So much for keeping them right by us..)  I didn't want to wake Daddy.  This cycle continues for awhile.  About 2 hours into the show, both boys were crying.  My mom woke up and grabbed a baby.  The plan was to divide and conquer.  This seemed to work......for about 2 minutes.  I swear, we'd get one settled and the other one would wake up.  It was HELL.  Around 3 in the morning, my mom and I were still up bouncing and singing to crying babies.  I remember looking at my mom with eyes full of tears.  "How are we going to do this?'" I asked.  "Well, you can't give them back", was her answer.   I cried and cried that night.  My mom did the same.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around 3:30 I woke Randy.  He told me the next day that he could "see" how terrified I was.  Randy finished out the night shift on his own.  While I don't think he cried like my mom and I did, I'm positive he wanted to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime on Randy's shift, he discovered a miracle fix.  The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nuc&lt;/span&gt;.  Before we brought the Big &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt; home, we decided that we wouldn't use &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;nucs&lt;/span&gt; for the first few weeks.  The nurses in the nursery told us that sometimes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;nucs&lt;/span&gt; made it more difficult for babies to nurse.  Randy immediately "confessed" in the morning to using the nucs.  I remember saying to him, "if it works, let's do it."  We made it less than 12 hrs without the nucs.  We were in survival mode.  Do whatever it takes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko7uvKrwDI/AAAAAAAAAD0/vFV9dZGv8e0/s1600-h/HPIM1151.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko7uvKrwDI/AAAAAAAAAD0/vFV9dZGv8e0/s320/HPIM1151.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353156781204553778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After lots of coffee and a few laughs recapping the night, we went on about our day in good spirits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko6eAK12fI/AAAAAAAAADU/8vxw35AcBIE/s1600-h/HPIM1145.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko6eAK12fI/AAAAAAAAADU/8vxw35AcBIE/s320/HPIM1145.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353155394199214578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Certainly with sweet little faces like this around, how bad could the day be.  We took turns catching cat naps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko7WDmbQxI/AAAAAAAAADk/TvGrL1WoBnk/s1600-h/HPIM1156.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko7WDmbQxI/AAAAAAAAADk/TvGrL1WoBnk/s320/HPIM1156.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353156357192893202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Looking back, I'm not sure what Randy and I were thinking.  Everyone kept telling us how difficult having twins would be.  It's not that we didn't believe it.  Sure, we thought we'd be tired.   What new parent isn't?  Nothing can truly prepare you for going 2 months without sleeping more than a two hour stretch at a time.  Nothing can prepare you for the major lifestyle adjustments.  The list goes on and on.   I quickly figured out a way for me to cope all of the new stressed and anxiety..................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko9dsPlS8I/AAAAAAAAAD8/TZ8vVtkMQRw/s1600-h/HPIM1176.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko9dsPlS8I/AAAAAAAAAD8/TZ8vVtkMQRw/s320/HPIM1176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353158687385275330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A nice glass of wine in the evening..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy and I &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;kind of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;laugh when we think back on that first night, though it's still a little raw (our boys are 8 months old now).  We still get that sick feeling in the pit our stomachs if we think about that first night for too long.  We made it though, that's all that matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, the nucs never did ruin our boys.   They survived nucs and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko9dsPlS8I/AAAAAAAAAD8/TZ8vVtkMQRw/s1600-h/HPIM1176.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-6211088608419998771?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6211088608419998771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-remember-it-as-if-it-were-yesterday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/6211088608419998771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/6211088608419998771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-remember-it-as-if-it-were-yesterday.html' title='I remember it as if it were yesterday.....'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/Sko0aY6ezPI/AAAAAAAAADE/B37OHp1X-zg/s72-c/HPIM1147.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-4801191398367021393</id><published>2009-06-25T08:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T08:01:57.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We have the best babies EVER...</title><content type='html'>The day the boys were born,  I was high in more ways than one.  It was truly amazing becoming a mother to two beautiful, perfectly healthy baby boys.  (The other reason I was high was the IV Diluadid, but whatever.)  I'll never forget the first time I held them.  It was very surreal.  Randy and I were blissfully happy.   The long wait was over, our boys were here.  Everything seemed perfect.   The first night of their life, the nurses encouraged Randy and I to send the boys to the nursery.  No way we thought!  We want them right here with us.  We kept them in the room and the blissfulness continued.  Randy, the boys and I all were dead asleep by 9:30pm.  The boys woke up a few times throughout the night to nurse and went immediately back to sleep.  Ahhh, life was great.  We were thrilled.  Things seemed to be going well.  Everyone kept saying how much work twins would be.  Day 1 was a piece of cake.  Lucky us we thought, our boys are such good sleepers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 2&lt;br /&gt;More of the same blissfulness.  We had lots of visitors and we were so proud to show off our boys.  They NEVER cried!  It was a miracle I say.  Since the boys had yet to really be in the nursery at all, the nurses encouraged us to send them for the night.  "You two need to get your rest, " they told us.  Oh no, we told them, we want them to stay.  Around 10 pm, they finally convinced us to send the boys.  I only sent them under the condition that the nurses would bring them back to feed.  I expected the boys would be getting up around 1am.  Randy and I again promptly fell asleep.  I woke  up around 1:30am and called the nurse.  I asked if they would please bring in the boys to nurse.  She told me that she already fed them.  She said that I was sleeping so soundly that she didn't want to wake me.  Well, I tell ya, this really irritated me.  They were due to get up to eat next around 3:30am.  I barely slept the rest of that night because I thought the nurses would "accidentally" forget to wake me.  At 3:25 I called the nurse.  She brought in the boys.  They nursed and again, went right back to sleep.  In the morning, Randy and I marveled at how well the boys slept.   We have the BEST babies ever!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkOcFPNT3ZI/AAAAAAAAACY/Ltwv8NiDF-I/s1600-h/HPIM1131.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkOcFPNT3ZI/AAAAAAAAACY/Ltwv8NiDF-I/s320/HPIM1131.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351292396041919890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;All smiles from everyone!  The boys were as content as can be.  We were planning our discharge for the next day.  In preparation for going home, Randy and I thought we would keep the boys in our room all night.  We ordered pizza, feed the boys and put them down for bedtime.  One of them started fussing immediately, so I held him for awhile and he eventually fell asleep in my arms. I put him in his bassinet and I crawled into my bed.  Not 2 minutes later, the other baby started.  I remember exchanging a slightly puzzled look with Randy.  Baby #2 also fell asleep in my arms after a short time.  I was all snuggled in my bed for the second time by about 10pm.  Not bad...  By 10:15 both boys were screaming inconsolably.  They weren't hungry or wet, what was the problem?  After about 10 minutes of screaming, Randy and I decided to walk them in the halls.  We were surprised to see 4 other couples doing the same thing.  All of us with a confused/tired looks on our faces.  We walked and walked, lap after lap.  The boys were no screaming, just fussing.  Once we got them both quiet, we tried to lay them down. They cried. This story repeats itself several times over.  While walking our laps, we stared at the nurses as we walked by.  Wasn't anyone going to help us!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like 1am.  Finally, we walked the boys to the nursery ourselves.  On a side note, the other couples pacing the halls with their babies quickly followed suit.     We had no shame.  We caved.  I must say, it was quite amusing to see the couples line up with their babies as we were checking ours in.  It seemed no one wanted to be the first.  Needless to say, the boys  stayed there until morning.   I asked that they not be brought in to nurse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Day 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We were tired.  Randy and I were wondering what the heck had happened the night before.  Who knows, must be a fluke we thought.  Our boys NEVER cry.  They eat and go right back to sleep. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkOespLfIJI/AAAAAAAAACg/Iz-SRcc8jNQ/s1600-h/HPIM1132.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkOespLfIJI/AAAAAAAAACg/Iz-SRcc8jNQ/s320/HPIM1132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351295272051744914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We were ready to go home.  Our plan was to pack up and get home ASAP.  Football was on and the hospital certainly did not have the Sunday Ticket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkS85hU_tDI/AAAAAAAAACo/MK2Ex5YQNIk/s1600-h/HPIM1134.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkS85hU_tDI/AAAAAAAAACo/MK2Ex5YQNIk/s320/HPIM1134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351609953607988274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We put the boys in their "going home outfits".  As you can see, even the teeny tiny preemie outfits didn't fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkS9UC0lFOI/AAAAAAAAACw/biMkRD1_q-c/s1600-h/HPIM1135.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkS9UC0lFOI/AAAAAAAAACw/biMkRD1_q-c/s320/HPIM1135.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351610409275430114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Don't ask who's who because I have no idea.  They have different hats on, so I know that there is a picture of each of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It took what seemed like forever to get all of the discharge paperwork done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkTAqw_bYyI/AAAAAAAAAC4/h4KQhurjFEo/s1600-h/HPIM1140.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkTAqw_bYyI/AAAAAAAAAC4/h4KQhurjFEo/s320/HPIM1140.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351614098160968482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we are all set to go!!  Let's go home and raise some babies!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-4801191398367021393?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/4801191398367021393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/we-have-best-babies-ever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/4801191398367021393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/4801191398367021393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/we-have-best-babies-ever.html' title='We have the best babies EVER...'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SkOcFPNT3ZI/AAAAAAAAACY/Ltwv8NiDF-I/s72-c/HPIM1131.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-6803134203042579986</id><published>2009-06-17T05:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T06:04:50.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How it all began....</title><content type='html'>Randy and I were married on April 14, 2007.  As the old saying goes, it was a perfect day.  It really was a wonderful day.  In fact, it was almost surreal.  I married my best friend and was lucky enough to be surrounded by all of the most important people in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SikOW98ilmI/AAAAAAAAABA/dOYl7b8hMbM/s1600-h/6_IMG_JanielleandRandy+%2831%29.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SikOW98ilmI/AAAAAAAAABA/dOYl7b8hMbM/s320/6_IMG_JanielleandRandy+%2831%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343818220600202850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the fall of that same year, we starting talking about children.  We both really wanted a big family one day, and so the "timing" discussion ensued.  We both had great jobs, had a nice home, and had  done a lot of traveling.  In fact, we had done A LOT of traveling.  We had been to Vegas, Hawaii, Jamaica and New York City  together to name a few. It seemed like a pretty decent time to have a baby.  After all, if we wanted a big family, we surely weren't getting any younger.  I just had one small problem with this plan.  I was supposed to be in one of my best friend's weddings in October of 2008.  Surely I didn't want to be ginormuosly pregnant and in a bridesmaid's dress.  I decided to try and wait to get pregnant until early summer of 2008. That way, I'd be pregnant for the wedding, but not HUGELY pregnant.  So that was that, we had a plan in place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to March 2008.  I had a nagging suspicion that I was pregnant.  After a week or so of secretly wondering, I decided to take the plunge.  I sheepishly made my way to the local Walgreens and bought a test.  For some reason, I couldn't even make eye contact with the lady at the checkout.  What was my problem?  I was 28.   I guess I'll never know.  Once I got home, I immediately peed on the stick.  I was so nervous, I had to leave the room for the two minutes it took for the little stick to process my results.  I waited the two minutes sitting anxiously on bed.   That two minutes seemed to take forever!  After the longest two minutes ever, I slowly made my way to the bathroom.  Sure enough, I had two lines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised by my lack of reaction to the news.  I was simply shocked.  Not overly happy, not particularily sad, just shocked.  Randy was at his bowling league.  A lot of thoughts were running through my head.  How was I going to spring this on him?   Should I wrap up a pair of cute little baby booties and attach a crafty little note?  Maybe bake a cake and write "Congrats Daddy" on it.  Well as I sat there daydreaming of creative ways to tell my husband he was going to be a daddy again (for those that don't know, Randy has a 13 year old daughter named Shiloh), I decided to go to the bowling alley.  I sat there watching him bowl with a perma-grin on my face.  I just couldn't stop smiling.  He kept asking me what was going on. "Nothing" I'd reply, with the perma-grin still on my face.  After about a half hour I cracked.  "I'm pregnant," I whispered in his ear.    So much for the cute and creative approach, I just told him in the bowling alley.  He pretty much had the same reaction I that I had had a few hours earlier.  Pure shock.  I don't really know why we were so shocked, we'd kind of been trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shock quickly turned to unbridled excitemen and joy.  I set up our first ultrasound for March 27, Randy's birthday.   I thought "seeing" his baby for the first time would be a cool birthday gift.  We went to the ultrasound as excited as can be.  We were holding hands, smiling ear to ear as the ultrasound started.   The ultrasound tech could tell how excited we were.  She started the scan and looked at us and said, " Are you ready to meet your baby or babies?"  Randy and I said nothing.  "Here is Baby A and here is Baby B" the lady said.  WHAT!!!  "Does that mean we have twins?!!"  We both cried.  The ultrasound lady was so excited.  She proceeded to tell us how this was her favorite part of the job.  After a few minutes the lady asked us,"you're crying because you are happy right?"  Umm, no...  not so much.  I  remember thinking I do NOT want to push out two babies.  I guess I must have said this out loud at some point, because the ultrasound lady told me "Oh honey don't worry, you don't have to push them out if you don't want to." Okay, that makes it a little better I guess.  It's funny the things we fixate on isn't it?   Randy quickly regained his composure.  Not me, I cried the entire one hour appointment.  By the end of the appointment, I was beginning to get a LITTLE excited, but mostly still just terrified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pregnancy went off without much excitement. The boys were born on October 16, 2008 via C-section.  Randy weighed 5lbs 14 oz and Reece 5lbs 10 oz.  They were absolutely perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never did make it to that wedding, though judging by the pictures it was a beautiful.   However, I can't complain too much because I did end up with my Big Beasties.....I can honestly say, I love them more than I ever dreamt possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjjpIrfrOpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/k4aNCVvObZs/s1600-h/HPIM1170.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjjpIrfrOpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/k4aNCVvObZs/s320/HPIM1170.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348280892826270354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reece on the left, Randy on right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  I should note that the nuc in the picture is normal sized.  The boys were just that tiny!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-6803134203042579986?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/6803134203042579986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/how-it-all-began.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/6803134203042579986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/6803134203042579986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/how-it-all-began.html' title='How it all began....'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SikOW98ilmI/AAAAAAAAABA/dOYl7b8hMbM/s72-c/6_IMG_JanielleandRandy+%2831%29.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-999315829952701333</id><published>2009-06-16T05:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T06:09:18.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry.....</title><content type='html'>To my four loyal followers:&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry I've been such a blog slacker. I've been busy doing things such as this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeUQxy5gyI/AAAAAAAAABg/SRHkhSx0_dc/s1600-h/HPIM1943.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeUQxy5gyI/AAAAAAAAABg/SRHkhSx0_dc/s320/HPIM1943.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347906098491392802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;in beautiful &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cabo&lt;/span&gt; San Lucas, Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Randy and I were lucky enough to have been invited to our good friend's wedding.  We were very happy to oblige and attend the fiesta.  It gave us a chance to spend some much needing time together.  My Mom was nice (or maybe just naive) enough to watch the Big &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Beasties&lt;/span&gt; while we were gone.  I have to say, I missed them like crazy.  The first few days were kinda tough.  In all honesty, I felt like a 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; grader at her first sleep over.  I had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and felt like I could burst into tears at any moment.  I think had I been offered the chance to go home, I would have.  By about the 3rd day, I started getting over it a bit.  I think you'll see why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeWA6sE3SI/AAAAAAAAABo/TI9P-9Wx8Uk/s1600-h/HPIM1861.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeWA6sE3SI/AAAAAAAAABo/TI9P-9Wx8Uk/s320/HPIM1861.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347908025024044322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This is our resort.  As you can see, the pool almost runs right into the ocean.  It was truly breathtaking...&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of breathtaking, here is the happy couple on their wedding day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeWnfYkB3I/AAAAAAAAABw/ql5aozost0s/s1600-h/HPIM2040.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeWnfYkB3I/AAAAAAAAABw/ql5aozost0s/s320/HPIM2040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347908687709341554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the most perfect setting for a wedding I've ever seen.  Even Randy describes it this way.  It really was THAT cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Randy and I had an absolute blast together.  It really felt like old times, you know, before we had the Big Beasties to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeXwz2m_yI/AAAAAAAAAB4/hUPj8OGVQ38/s1600-h/HPIM2011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeXwz2m_yI/AAAAAAAAAB4/hUPj8OGVQ38/s320/HPIM2011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347909947334524706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only things we needed to worry about were if we had on enough sunblock  (It was at least 95 degrees and sunny everyday.) and if our drinks were staying cold enough...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeYxRT8dmI/AAAAAAAAACA/FxBz322yVpQ/s1600-h/HPIM2032.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeYxRT8dmI/AAAAAAAAACA/FxBz322yVpQ/s320/HPIM2032.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347911054753822306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-999315829952701333?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/999315829952701333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/sorry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/999315829952701333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/999315829952701333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/sorry.html' title='Sorry.....'/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SjeUQxy5gyI/AAAAAAAAABg/SRHkhSx0_dc/s72-c/HPIM1943.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113902451160619051.post-4493933405387442769</id><published>2009-06-02T08:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T08:52:01.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For some crazy reason, I decided this morning that I should start this blog.  It's not that I'm bored necessarily or don't have anything better to do.  In fact, I have lots and lots to do.  For example, I should be packing for our upcoming trip to Mexico, doing a load of laundry, updating the boys baby books, paying bills, the list goes on and on, but I'm sure you get the point.  So as I was feeding the boys their oatmeal and fruit breakfast I decided to go for it, and here I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a long time to decide on a name for the blog.  In fact, I think I changed it about 10 times already.  While deciding on a name, I realized that had I started, and in turn named the blog, when I was pregnant it would probably read something more like, "My Little Angels" or "Double Blessed".  Well now that the boys are almost 8 months old, it's not that those names are inappropriate, just not exactly accurate of my life.  I think that Randy would agree, as my man Jimmy put it, "If we couldn't laugh, we would all go insane."  The days of our calm, clean and peaceful house are gone.  We've been overtaken... hence the name of our blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the upcoming weeks, I'll do my best to start the story from the beginning.  It will give me a chance to revisit old memories and at the same time, share our story.   After-all, you can't start a book in the middle..  ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113902451160619051-4493933405387442769?l=ravenmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/feeds/4493933405387442769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/for-some-crazy-reason-i-decided-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/4493933405387442769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113902451160619051/posts/default/4493933405387442769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ravenmama.blogspot.com/2009/06/for-some-crazy-reason-i-decided-this.html' title=''/><author><name>ravenmama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17923363708940017824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DtCqRNCqUcI/SiVQ8kk_Z4I/AAAAAAAAAAg/9JDVafC_org/S220/HPIM1835.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
