<?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-8792790704583466675</id><updated>2011-07-08T13:11:37.726-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Marcia's Photo Blog</title><subtitle type='html'>Life with the Bradshaw's</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>240</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2814203683483745332</id><published>2010-06-12T14:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T14:22:21.472-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Triston's Hair Cut</title><content type='html'>Triston decided to get a haircut in celebration of his last day of school. Tammi took Triston, Mason, and Lane all up to the studio and gave them each a Mohawk and then she colored their hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/TCZEZG81NSI/AAAAAAAACIs/AAXAEko3WQ8/s1600/06-10-10-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 524px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487148394150704418" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/TCZEZG81NSI/AAAAAAAACIs/AAXAEko3WQ8/s800/06-10-10-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2814203683483745332?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2814203683483745332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2814203683483745332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2814203683483745332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2814203683483745332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2010/06/tristons-hair-cut.html' title='Triston&apos;s Hair Cut'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/TCZEZG81NSI/AAAAAAAACIs/AAXAEko3WQ8/s72-c/06-10-10-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3357260046845336210</id><published>2010-04-11T20:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T20:48:03.283-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Tara will be turning 8 next month. She was thinking about her birthday and told her dad &amp;quot;Do you realize that I haven&amp;#39;t really been alive for very long?&amp;quot; (she&amp;#39;s so funny)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3357260046845336210?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3357260046845336210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3357260046845336210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3357260046845336210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3357260046845336210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2010/04/tara-will-be-turning-8-next-month.html' title=''/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8998112730068335349</id><published>2010-04-09T23:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T22:33:38.118-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Terry and our dog Bella</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E03a0mH2I/AAAAAAAACHU/APc1tTicyY4/s1600/4-1-10-IPhone-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 600px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458702350047125346" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E03a0mH2I/AAAAAAAACHU/APc1tTicyY4/s800/4-1-10-IPhone-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8998112730068335349?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8998112730068335349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8998112730068335349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8998112730068335349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8998112730068335349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2010/04/terry-and-our-dog-bella.html' title='Terry and our dog Bella'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E03a0mH2I/AAAAAAAACHU/APc1tTicyY4/s72-c/4-1-10-IPhone-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2247969104929148588</id><published>2010-04-09T22:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T22:36:42.459-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New technology</title><content type='html'>I know I have been very bad about posting to the blog so I am trying something new, blogging from my iPhone. I should be able to post text and pics right from my phone. This should be very interesting, hope it works.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2247969104929148588?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2247969104929148588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2247969104929148588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2247969104929148588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2247969104929148588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2010/04/new-technology.html' title='New technology'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2738299226643664804</id><published>2010-04-01T22:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T22:55:23.564-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"April Fools"</title><content type='html'>I was trying to think of all kinds of pranks to play on the kids. I was going to change all of their clocks to read 7am when it was really only 3am. I would have had to take the time to actually drag myself out of bed and get them all up just to tell them "April Fools". This all seemed like too much torture on myself. Instead, I served them a delicious breakfast before they headed to school.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458704680772606290" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E2_Fc2mVI/AAAAAAAACHc/qIS8qUwck1c/s800/4-1-10-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;"April Fools" ha, ha...it's not really what it looks like. Nope, its not a really eggs and bacon. The eggs are made of white chocolate and I added yellow food color for the yolks and the bacon was made of tootsie rolls and carmel. Ok, the toast was really toast but they needed something that they could actually eat before heading off to school. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I let the kids play a prank on their teachers. They were so very kind to take their teachers each an apple. This is what it looked like.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458706122487455394" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E4TAQdXqI/AAAAAAAACHk/JuWa6T3j5QQ/s800/4-1-10-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The worm pressed easily into the apple and when they handed them to their teachers, the worm scurried out. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After the kids got home from school, I fooled them again with a glass of juice that was really made with Jello. Sorry, no pic for this one. The camera makes the prank obvious before they even get it so I chose to leave the camera alone this time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2738299226643664804?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2738299226643664804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2738299226643664804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2738299226643664804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2738299226643664804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2010/04/april-fools.html' title='&quot;April Fools&quot;'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E2_Fc2mVI/AAAAAAAACHc/qIS8qUwck1c/s72-c/4-1-10-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5673843861951994475</id><published>2010-03-27T23:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-10T23:22:17.772-04:00</updated><title type='text'>River Fishing</title><content type='html'>The kids have been begging to go fishing. They are still young so in the past we have only taken them in the boat and fished for easy fish like bluegills but Terry was really excited about hitting the Allegan Dam because the larger fish are there right now. Now I realize why it is that we haven't taken the kids to the river in the past...we spent pretty much our entire time trying to get them untangled. They cross each other's lines and get themselves snagged up in the trees all the time. I did get some good pictures but that was the only good thing from the trip.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458713446637402642" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E-9U14ehI/AAAAAAAACHs/5HyBLLDplv0/s800/3-27-10-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 800px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458713608843635202" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E_GxG3KgI/AAAAAAAACH0/VH0AAem6jHc/s800/3-27-10-2.jpg" /&gt;Here is a pic of Terry trying to work out a snag but he unfortanelty broke the line, again. We decided that we weren't having much fun and ended up leaving.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458713736361762722" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E_OMJjX6I/AAAAAAAACH8/xp2UuFJ1ZYA/s800/3-27-103.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5673843861951994475?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5673843861951994475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5673843861951994475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5673843861951994475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5673843861951994475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2010/03/river-fishing.html' title='River Fishing'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8E-9U14ehI/AAAAAAAACHs/5HyBLLDplv0/s72-c/3-27-10-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5535445429774136007</id><published>2010-01-30T22:17:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T22:27:09.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>20 x 20 For My Wall</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Well, I haven't ordered anything for myself in a long time but it's about time. I've been working really hard and this is my reward. I'm going to print this as a 20 x 20 Canvas. I can harldy wait.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 800px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432740120525891090" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S2T4WxD1ZhI/AAAAAAAACHE/kDU5wDB_z5c/s800/20-x-20-Collage.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5535445429774136007?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5535445429774136007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5535445429774136007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5535445429774136007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5535445429774136007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2010/01/20-x-20-for-my-wall.html' title='20 x 20 For My Wall'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S2T4WxD1ZhI/AAAAAAAACHE/kDU5wDB_z5c/s72-c/20-x-20-Collage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2123284874693524077</id><published>2010-01-21T23:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T00:05:29.660-04:00</updated><title type='text'>New Box To Play In (11-15-09)</title><content type='html'>Everyone knows how much fun a box can be for a kid but what about a dog? Our Bella (dog) went crazy over an empty box. She and the kids played in it for several days before we finally pitched it.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458723484738054370" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8FIFnrk6OI/AAAAAAAACIE/DPKgNVUWdHM/s800/11-15-09-1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458723869844774354" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8FIcCULHdI/AAAAAAAACIk/iJQK4XAmjXA/s800/11-15-09-6.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458723773800435442" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8FIWchazvI/AAAAAAAACIc/Fj2yDlgV_Nc/s800/11-15-09-5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458723591589851346" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8FIL1vB8NI/AAAAAAAACIM/WfRWpH4p2ek/s800/11-15-09-3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458723681374339122" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8FIRENUgDI/AAAAAAAACIU/4tEyE0BH8iM/s800/11-15-09-4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2123284874693524077?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2123284874693524077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2123284874693524077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2123284874693524077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2123284874693524077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2010/04/new-box-to-play-in.html' title='New Box To Play In (11-15-09)'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/S8FIFnrk6OI/AAAAAAAACIE/DPKgNVUWdHM/s72-c/11-15-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6250400135764682984</id><published>2009-12-17T20:41:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T21:05:38.732-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard Time Growing Up</title><content type='html'>We were driving tonight when I heard a sob coming from the back seat. I turned around to find Tara in tears. Poor thing...I asked her what was wrong and this was her reply:&lt;br /&gt;Tara: "I don't want to grow up...I already know I'm going to have a hard time growing up"&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "Well growing up isn't the easiest thing but why do you feel that it is going to be harder for you?"&lt;br /&gt;Tara: "Because I want everything and everything costs a lot of money"&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "True but we all like things but you will learn as you grow what is important and what isn't. Besides, you are a really smart girl and doing well in school will lead to a really good job which will allow you to earn a lot of money."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also included in the conversation is that she is afraid of dying and never wants to move out of our home. OMG, this child worries too much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and what's a post without a picture...this pic was taken in August. &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416390914272368034" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Syri1tnblaI/AAAAAAAACG0/ewVFk-ixSyg/s800/8-20-09-32-Vintage.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6250400135764682984?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6250400135764682984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6250400135764682984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6250400135764682984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6250400135764682984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/12/hard-time-growing-up.html' title='Hard Time Growing Up'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Syri1tnblaI/AAAAAAAACG0/ewVFk-ixSyg/s72-c/8-20-09-32-Vintage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5991685010618184744</id><published>2009-12-15T18:34:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T18:41:22.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lake Michigan Fun</title><content type='html'>These were taken August 18, 2009. I am sitting at my computer in the middle of December and freezing. Oh how I miss these warm summer nights already.&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415611611758411938" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SygeEVhXQKI/AAAAAAAACGs/Mw-riXsNKfc/s800/8-18-09-1.2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415611381388536882" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sygd27U57DI/AAAAAAAACGk/6eIc-_ekrC0/s800/8-18-09-7.jpg" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 534px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415611220545991106" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SygdtkJDccI/AAAAAAAACGc/oUydRbamy4M/s400/8-18-09-17.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5991685010618184744?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5991685010618184744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5991685010618184744' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5991685010618184744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5991685010618184744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/12/lake-michigan-fun.html' title='Lake Michigan Fun'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SygeEVhXQKI/AAAAAAAACGs/Mw-riXsNKfc/s72-c/8-18-09-1.2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5800531713125090853</id><published>2009-08-20T11:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T11:45:06.252-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pool Party</title><content type='html'>We have had a lot of fun in the pool this summer and even a few parties with the neighbors. Lorrie and Steven joined us on August 14th for Daiquiris, Sloppy Jo's, and Nachos and a really good game of Skip-Bo. Here are a few shots from that night. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;One blender contained alcohol Daiquiri's for the adults and the other was just plain Daiquiri's for the kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388026644897562434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SsYdr8F1f0I/AAAAAAAACF8/0mDfdzynXhw/s800/8-14-09-10.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tara was the waitress and we tipped her with change, accordingly. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388028327784125250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SsYfN5VQk0I/AAAAAAAACGU/eVcp8WHecMk/s800/8-14-09-6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388026747677991026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SsYdx6-mYHI/AAAAAAAACGE/jefsTP1B6R8/s800/8-14-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Yummy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388027671884153970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SsYent6hRHI/AAAAAAAACGM/O8YHLTyq3io/s800/8-14-09-9.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5800531713125090853?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5800531713125090853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5800531713125090853' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5800531713125090853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5800531713125090853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/08/pool-party.html' title='Pool Party'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SsYdr8F1f0I/AAAAAAAACF8/0mDfdzynXhw/s72-c/8-14-09-10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-431977544082477315</id><published>2009-08-19T09:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T09:44:41.732-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara's New Doo</title><content type='html'>It was a last minute decision to stop in and for Tara to get her hair done, otherwise we would have brought a picture of Alice from Twilight. That's the hair style that she wanted and can you believe, noone at Great Clips had even saw the movie. These people are crazy but anyways, we were forced to go through every book they had there and try and explain what exactly we were talking about and, in the end, her hair turned out perfect. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387997672942579618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SsYDVjJfr6I/AAAAAAAACF0/3gOnXOiMHnw/s800/8-13-09-4-copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-431977544082477315?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/431977544082477315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=431977544082477315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/431977544082477315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/431977544082477315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/10/taras-new-doo.html' title='Tara&apos;s New Doo'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SsYDVjJfr6I/AAAAAAAACF0/3gOnXOiMHnw/s72-c/8-13-09-4-copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3615415143857283290</id><published>2009-08-18T18:46:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T19:00:00.051-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Creativity with Pop Bottles</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The kids raided my recycle bin and grabbed the duct tape for some creative fun. They wanted to make boats to play with in the pool and they all had their own ideas as to what they wanted theirs to look like. Triston decided on a submarine. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440344238786450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SoswiLKOB5I/AAAAAAAACFM/CiqaiUFJUHA/s800/8-11-09-28-copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;He added water to the bottles so that they would sink and when he needed it to rise, he added air the bottles.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440668519670802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sosw1DMzpBI/AAAAAAAACFU/vVcti2rmYeQ/s800/8-11-09-15.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Very creative!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371440817060124498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sosw9sjnF1I/AAAAAAAACFc/KQB5aeuoeo0/s800/8-11-09-19.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Tara had her mind set on a sail boat, of course, one that her Barbie could also enjoy ;) Barbie was seat belted very securely with duct tape, of course.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371441144327489490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SosxQvuOx9I/AAAAAAAACFk/49yu1zZ98zk/s800/8-11-09-33-copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Brian worked with Lane (not pictured) on the left and Mason did his own (on the right).&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371441414632025762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sosxger2rqI/AAAAAAAACFs/F48luc0yWow/s800/8-11-09-10.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After their creations were complete, they played with them in the pool for the rest of the night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3615415143857283290?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3615415143857283290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3615415143857283290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3615415143857283290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3615415143857283290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/08/creativity-with-pop-bottles.html' title='Creativity with Pop Bottles'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SoswiLKOB5I/AAAAAAAACFM/CiqaiUFJUHA/s72-c/8-11-09-28-copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1146253167859625806</id><published>2009-08-10T09:25:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-10T09:35:06.801-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welding</title><content type='html'>"Welding" is only one of his many talents but it is something that I have been wanting to photograph for a while now. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368326685931248418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SoAgraEumyI/AAAAAAAACFE/Ehx6ZDeBc3g/s800/8-4-09-19.jpg" border="0" /&gt;All except, I expected his face to be dirtier. Usually when he welds, he comes in with black marks and smoke dust everywhere. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Every time&lt;/span&gt;, except for when I am ready with the camera.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368326563085925906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SoAgkQcHvhI/AAAAAAAACE0/iSQ_MEA5mG4/s800/8-4-09-3-copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Notice the expression? He doesn't understand why in the world I would want to photograph this. I have been asking for a long time now. Its just been one of those things that I have wanted to photograph, I can't really explain why.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368326628535261282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SoAgoEQdWGI/AAAAAAAACE8/zDuSYLALp9o/s800/8-4-09-10.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Luv you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hunny&lt;/span&gt; ;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1146253167859625806?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1146253167859625806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1146253167859625806' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1146253167859625806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1146253167859625806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/08/welding.html' title='Welding'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SoAgraEumyI/AAAAAAAACFE/Ehx6ZDeBc3g/s72-c/8-4-09-19.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8286915488255407113</id><published>2009-08-06T16:16:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T16:22:16.531-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Safety First</title><content type='html'>I had some running to do and Tara asked if her dog, Bella, could come along. I was driving along listening to her talk to her dog in the back seat. I had to laugh when I heard her tell Bella "Safety First, Bella". I turned around and seen this:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366947807343082386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sns6mHC--5I/AAAAAAAACEc/NB18LyJOd9A/s800/7-23-09-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Tara loves Bella very much. Tara explained to me that they are seat belted but she was also hanging on to Bella and Bella was hanging on to her so that if we crashed, nothing would happen to either of them. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366948367522996018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sns7Gt4SHzI/AAAAAAAACEk/PjBLyS2OQ3g/s800/7-23-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8286915488255407113?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8286915488255407113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8286915488255407113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8286915488255407113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8286915488255407113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/08/safety-first.html' title='Safety First'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sns6mHC--5I/AAAAAAAACEc/NB18LyJOd9A/s72-c/7-23-09-3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2955206386659530473</id><published>2009-08-05T16:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T16:25:44.976-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Hand-Me-Down Mattress</title><content type='html'>I got a new Sealy Posturepedic mattress and Terry threw our old one outside. He was planning on sitting it out by the road for the garbage truck but the kids had their own idea about what to do with it. I gave them the ok to play with it until garbage day comes.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366949246087911250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sns752ye11I/AAAAAAAACEs/Ln56S2zGUl8/s800/7-28-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(Tara, Mason, Triston, Lane)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2955206386659530473?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2955206386659530473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2955206386659530473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2955206386659530473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2955206386659530473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-hand-me-down-mattress.html' title='My Hand-Me-Down Mattress'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sns752ye11I/AAAAAAAACEs/Ln56S2zGUl8/s72-c/7-28-09-5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6517632743045068997</id><published>2009-07-27T12:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T12:27:26.384-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Make-Do Makeup</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Tara was busy in her room, working at her desk. What started out as Arts-n-Crafts at her desk turned into a makeup session. I immediately asked her what she used to stick the gliter to her face since I was worried about it being glue and semi-permanent but she quickly informed me that it was just water.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363177234888268098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3VR6D6GUI/AAAAAAAACDs/amYofL2ECSs/s800/7-22-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6517632743045068997?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6517632743045068997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6517632743045068997' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6517632743045068997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6517632743045068997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/07/make-do-makeup.html' title='Make-Do Makeup'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3VR6D6GUI/AAAAAAAACDs/amYofL2ECSs/s72-c/7-22-09-5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1439836771369963091</id><published>2009-07-27T12:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T12:30:20.233-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hhhmmmm......</title><content type='html'>I don't know how to explain this one. Cameron thought he looked "cool". It's a wig from an old Halloween costume and his Sombrero from his Spanish class. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363177995175969298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3V-KWnwhI/AAAAAAAACD0/jM4uhQuRjWo/s800/7-23-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1439836771369963091?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1439836771369963091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1439836771369963091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1439836771369963091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1439836771369963091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/07/hhhmmmm.html' title='Hhhmmmm......'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3V-KWnwhI/AAAAAAAACD0/jM4uhQuRjWo/s72-c/7-23-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2449526103861879026</id><published>2009-07-26T12:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T12:45:00.102-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Her first Zit?</title><content type='html'>Tara thinks that she has gotten her first Zit and couldn't be more proud. I think it is a bug bite but you cannot convince her. She will even tell you to feel in when in the middle of an argument about whether it is or it isn't. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363179827807395490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3Xo1cAHqI/AAAAAAAACD8/Uul0r_3ILhc/s800/7-19-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I posted her pic on Facebook and received some funny comments but what was really fun about it was the family members and friends who stopped by just to see the Zit and Tara was prouder than ever to show everyone.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I feel the need to explain...see the outfit that she has on? Well, that's a 60s costume that I purchased for myself to attend a birthday party but Tara has taken it over. She loves it and wears it whenever I let her.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363179917880990706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3XuE_OG_I/AAAAAAAACEE/vFTg9YEfgQw/s800/7-19-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2449526103861879026?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2449526103861879026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2449526103861879026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2449526103861879026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2449526103861879026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/07/her-first-zit.html' title='Her first Zit?'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3Xo1cAHqI/AAAAAAAACD8/Uul0r_3ILhc/s72-c/7-19-09-4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7346113971612611716</id><published>2009-07-17T12:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T12:51:26.115-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to the Ghetto</title><content type='html'>When I seen this:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363182246240613650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3Z1mzadRI/AAAAAAAACEU/acTcse2R6KI/s800/7-16-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I had to take a picture.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;The boys cleaned out Lorrie's garage to put the weight system up that was in my bedroom. This was an old cabinet that she didn't want anymore and they sat it out by the curb for the garbage truck to pick up. Anyways, the boys have been working out pretty hard in the garage and was about to go for a jog when Cameron's girlfriend asked to join them. So the boys sat curbside waiting for her to arrive.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363182171812233682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3ZxRiTgdI/AAAAAAAACEM/5d1PSVAfFIc/s800/7-16-09-10.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(Bryan, Steven, Cameron)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7346113971612611716?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7346113971612611716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7346113971612611716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7346113971612611716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7346113971612611716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/07/welcome-to-ghetto.html' title='Welcome to the Ghetto'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sm3Z1mzadRI/AAAAAAAACEU/acTcse2R6KI/s72-c/7-16-09-5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5873436537568267133</id><published>2009-07-08T22:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T22:27:20.547-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Photoshop Class</title><content type='html'>I started a Photoshop class to learn more about the creation process after the picture's are taken. Here is my first work of art;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356280518721817442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 572px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SlVUwMPCS2I/AAAAAAAACDk/EHA2hFSk048/s800/7-4-09-1-Sassy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all about framing and png files. I'm excited to learn more :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5873436537568267133?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5873436537568267133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5873436537568267133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5873436537568267133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5873436537568267133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/07/photoshop-class.html' title='Photoshop Class'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SlVUwMPCS2I/AAAAAAAACDk/EHA2hFSk048/s72-c/7-4-09-1-Sassy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6270223392142168932</id><published>2009-06-21T19:06:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T22:30:50.511-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A very exceptional teacher</title><content type='html'>5-22-2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am little behind on posting but today I spent a little time processing some older photos when I came across Tara's 1st grade, end of the year party for her class. She was lucky to have been taught by Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Spicer&lt;/span&gt; who I honestly believe is a genius. My boys were also lucky enough to have him in their first grade classes, also. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We spent the first half of the party eating, then the kids spent a little time playing on the playground.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349923805850396818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sj6_WzceaJI/AAAAAAAACCk/6nr-v9FfK-U/s800/5-22-09-31.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;They released butterflies that had grown in the classroom.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349925881777261586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sj7BPo4AjBI/AAAAAAAACCs/FOrligfamIg/s800/5-22-09-26.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Spicer&lt;/span&gt; took some time to talk about the Bradshaw family. He walked over and grabbed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ahold&lt;/span&gt; of Cameron and pulled him up to introduce him to everyone. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349927419983985586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sj7CpLJEe7I/AAAAAAAACC8/19-qBSZQx5Q/s800/5-22-09-36.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I happen to be sitting in the wrong area for pictures but I had to snap away anyway. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Spicer&lt;/span&gt; told the class that Cameron was in his very first 1st grade classroom. He talked about the challenges he faced with it being his first class and the things that he has learned along the way. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He remarked about Cameron's height and quickly admitted that although he used to carry Cameron around as a little 1st grader, he wouldn't be able to carry him around now. Then he looked at Cameron and challenged him to see if he could carry Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Spicer&lt;/span&gt; around. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349928822865803954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sj7D61SKOrI/AAAAAAAACDE/56E98Phii_s/s800/5-22-09-37.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Yeap&lt;/span&gt;, he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; can.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then he called on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; to stand. He talked about how sweet and shy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; was in his class and how different he was from Cameron.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349929655034914354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sj7ErRWvJjI/AAAAAAAACDM/GFt_GWumEmY/s800/5-22-09-39.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was Tara's turn.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349930111425239362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sj7FF1iq2UI/AAAAAAAACDU/Uude5k5421s/s800/5-22-09-35.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all of that fun, Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Spicer&lt;/span&gt; unloaded boxes of books so the kids could all pick one very special book to keep from Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Spicer&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349930672685303666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sj7FmgZfx3I/AAAAAAAACDc/Mvs9tX55Nsg/s800/5-22-09-44.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tara already misses Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Spicer&lt;/span&gt;. She prepared a letter to mail him and was nearly in tears when she started talking about having to have a different teacher next year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6270223392142168932?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6270223392142168932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6270223392142168932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6270223392142168932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6270223392142168932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/06/very-exceptional-teacher.html' title='A very exceptional teacher'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sj6_WzceaJI/AAAAAAAACCk/6nr-v9FfK-U/s72-c/5-22-09-31.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6782366765217905220</id><published>2009-06-18T16:47:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T17:08:46.411-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Lego Island</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Triston plays with his Lego's every single day. The other day he came running over to me begging me to come look at his island that he created and was playing with. So I did.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "Very nice, Triston"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston: "Thanks"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston: "Will you take a picture of it for me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "I guess I can"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston: "Thanks mom, I know you take good pictures and I want this picture for my laptop"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "Oh, thanks Triston" "That's actually a good idea to put pictures of your creations in your laptop"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then I took a couple pictures and we were viewing them in my computer.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston: "Mom, the green countertop looks like water, only, it's the wrong color"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "Well, Triston, I happen to know a little bit about Photoshop. Want me to change the color?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston: "AWESOME"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: (Awe, he thinks I am capable of anything. I love it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then we check out the new coloring.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348774460896926210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqqCH1xWgI/AAAAAAAACCU/gCbpXR9GiAg/s800/5-15-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston: "Oh mom, your AWESOME"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "Thanks Triston"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston: "oh, mom...can you make sand? it would be really cool to have sand on the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: "I can try" (I'm not really that good, but I love a challenge)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This is the end result:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348777326795456466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sjqso8JOf9I/AAAAAAAACCc/DUkPCzbLAig/s800/5-15-09-2-Web.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;From Mom To Triston: I love your creativity. You have some really good ideas and a vision of what you want that is quite remarkable. Thank you for including me in your plan. Love you son!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6782366765217905220?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6782366765217905220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6782366765217905220' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6782366765217905220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6782366765217905220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/06/lego-island.html' title='Lego Island'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqqCH1xWgI/AAAAAAAACCU/gCbpXR9GiAg/s72-c/5-15-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7503869731248435933</id><published>2009-06-18T16:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T16:42:06.350-04:00</updated><title type='text'>He passed !!!!!!</title><content type='html'>Cameron passed his driving test with flying colors. Nice job Cam! I'm proud of you.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sjql_c39KtI/AAAAAAAACCE/OJgPAha3Vxo/s1600-h/5-12-09-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348770016957115090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 666px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sjql_c39KtI/AAAAAAAACCE/OJgPAha3Vxo/s800/5-12-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7503869731248435933?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7503869731248435933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7503869731248435933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7503869731248435933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7503869731248435933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/06/he-passed.html' title='He passed !!!!!!'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sjql_c39KtI/AAAAAAAACCE/OJgPAha3Vxo/s72-c/5-12-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8112804329556280371</id><published>2009-06-18T15:23:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T15:54:49.681-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Parellel Parking 101</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;We can all side with what Cameron is going through. Parallel parking was my biggest fear in drivers training too. This is why we all drove down to the school and practiced. I drove my truck, Terry drove his, and Cameron drove Grandma's but Grandma had to accompany him because he cannot legally drive without a licensed adult. So anyways, Terry parked in front, we left a space for Cameron to try and get into, I parked in the last space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that all of our vehicles are in a disaster zone, the lesson began.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348751866130741282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqVe7xuOCI/AAAAAAAACBU/UXzW2VDoptw/s800/5-3-09-7.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Step 1&lt;br /&gt;Drive on up (like you know what you are doing) and locate the desired parking spot. P.S.-Be gentle with Grandma ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348754369140503858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqXwoNwNTI/AAAAAAAACBs/uptMY_ScCwQ/s800/5-3-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Step 2&lt;br /&gt;Pull up and line up your back bumper to the space you want to back into.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348752339032206978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqV6deN7oI/AAAAAAAACBc/cG64lVkNqSI/s800/5-3-09-8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Step 3 &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Carefully turn your wheel and begin to back into the parking spot. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348752896407156178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqWa52wtdI/AAAAAAAACBk/uxe43ve-ioY/s800/5-3-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Step 4&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Before you hit the curb, turn your wheel to straighten the vehicle out.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348755773008633650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqZCWB_3zI/AAAAAAAACB8/TiDi5FF-4Zw/s800/5-3-09-11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Step 5&lt;br /&gt;If all is well, BREATH. (you too Grandma)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348755142236531490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqYdoONayI/AAAAAAAACB0/tdcfo1ZeKlw/s800/5-3-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;GOOD JOB CAMERON!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8112804329556280371?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8112804329556280371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8112804329556280371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8112804329556280371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8112804329556280371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/06/parellel-parking-101.html' title='Parellel Parking 101'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqVe7xuOCI/AAAAAAAACBU/UXzW2VDoptw/s72-c/5-3-09-7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5566948705343027968</id><published>2009-06-03T14:40:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T15:20:57.035-04:00</updated><title type='text'>May 3rd, Triston and Cameron's Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cameron turns 16 and Triston turns 10. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a BIG year. Triston was very excited to hit the double digits. It was a much bigger deal to turn 10 than it was any other age thus far. As for Cameron, "16" what can I say...this is a year of a new independence and soooo close to adulthood. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life has been busy with all of Terry's doctor appointments, Grandma Doris's doctor appointments, baseball, soccer, and my job hunting. We tried to keep the birthdays minimal and just had a couple Grandma's here to witness the candle blowing. A couple of the kid's friends ended up finding their way in for it too. I told the kids we will have a pool party this summer where they will each be able to invite friends. Hopefully the weather warms up so we can do that eventually.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Terry made Cameron's cake. He worked really hard on it and we only laughed at his struggles a few time. No one cared in the end what it looked like since it tasted so good :)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348742665351583106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqNHYNB1YI/AAAAAAAACAc/2XrAzNq6tko/s800/5-3-09-12.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I spent a little more time on Triston and I also had Triston over my shoulder telling me everything that I was doing wrong. It was fun.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348743112819406882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqNhbJq-CI/AAAAAAAACAk/nk5Z6lUtSAU/s800/5-3-09-13.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Can you tell, we love baseball?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Tris ton has a collection of Bakugon. That has been his thing this year. The picture shows him opening up a new case to put them in which will be super handy for taking them back and forth to school.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348743556169850754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqN7Owp34I/AAAAAAAACAs/GunNaL2Cezc/s800/5-3-09-17.jpg" border="0" /&gt; The real question of the day is whether or not Triston has enough money now. He has been saving his money for over a year. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348743753871295586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqOGvQWhGI/AAAAAAAACA0/rpcYJaOTo2M/s800/5-3-09-18.jpg" border="0" /&gt;He has been saving and saving for his very own laptop. Did I mention how disciplined he is? A month ago, the ice cream truck was rounding the corner and Triston came running in to ask for money. We told him to use his own money, he certainly had enough for an ice cream. Needless to say, he walked away crying. He was so upset because he wasn't willing to take a single cent out of his laptop money. He has more discipline than anyone I know. I would have bought the dang ice cream and made up the difference later. Way to go Triston!! It all worked out in his benefit anyway because Tara felt bad for him. She only had $5 compared to all of his hundreds but she could watch him suffer, and having a sweet tooth herself, knows the feeling of not being able to have ice cream when she wants it. So, Tara bought herself an ice cream and her brother. She's such a sweetie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cameron is just a big goof ball. I was really excited about the card that I got him and had the camera right on him (which he doesn't like). He decided he should model the card so I can snap hundreds of pictures of Cameron and the card doing different things. Here's one of them.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348746767871171474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqQ2LR625I/AAAAAAAACA8/IZ2ZMsVncq0/s800/5-3-09-14.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Yeap, he's a dork. Maybe he should go into catalogue sales or something. I'll run that by him as he researches colleges this next year :0 &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348747080423101794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqRIXoG1WI/AAAAAAAACBE/dHjyCDS3MWw/s800/5-3-09-15.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;He finally did get down to business and opened the card. I was laughing like crazy, he didn't seem to think it was all that funny. Anyways, the card came with a brand new bumper sticker that he is able to remove the adhesive from and affix to his bumper. Here is what it looks like:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348747679115281026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqRrN7cgoI/AAAAAAAACBM/BwIHThFImZc/s800/5-3-09-16.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Does this imply that Cameron is a bad driver? Hmm, maybe this is why he wasn't laughing as hard as me lol. Sorry Cameron, I realize you are a pretty good driver but for those off time's, this sticker is perfect. I should also mention, he has been stressing the last couple of days about driving anyways because his drivers test is coming up next week and his whole life is riding on whether he passes it or not.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am so proud of my boys. They are both growing into responsible young men. Love ya guys and happy, happy birthday.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5566948705343027968?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5566948705343027968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5566948705343027968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5566948705343027968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5566948705343027968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/06/may-3rd-triston-and-camerons-birthday.html' title='May 3rd, Triston and Cameron&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SjqNHYNB1YI/AAAAAAAACAc/2XrAzNq6tko/s72-c/5-3-09-12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2978389181612945371</id><published>2009-06-02T23:19:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T23:37:09.722-04:00</updated><title type='text'>May 2nd, Tara's Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Well, it's been an entire month and I haven't posted Tara's birthday. Time is getting away with me so I decided to take a step back and try and get my blog up to date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Although Tara wanted to have a big sleep over extravaganza with all of her friends, we had to limit her birthday to only grandparents because of our packed full schedule. It's been full of doctor appointments, soccer (she had a soccer game right before everyone arrived), driver's training, and baseball for all the kids. Instead, I promised her and her brother a pool party for their friends sometime this summer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We sang "Happy Birthday" to Tara and ate cake and ice cream.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342936833933743314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SiXsvgv4lNI/AAAAAAAAB_0/qlCyapILVf0/s800/5-2-09-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Then she got to open her presents (finally). BTW, her patience hasn't gotten any better with age.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342939664110611938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SiXvUP-obeI/AAAAAAAACAU/IgKqG000-j4/s800/5-2-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;All that cool make-up ended up being used on her and the neighbor boy (wish I would have gotten a picture of that).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342937874465017778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SiXtsFB3z7I/AAAAAAAACAE/4AoWJLAG7RA/s800/5-2-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;She also got a lot of money, which surprised her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342938053862037682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SiXt2hVdGLI/AAAAAAAACAM/Vbs0ey9ap9s/s800/5-2-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Happy 7&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Birthday Baby Girl...I Love You!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2978389181612945371?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2978389181612945371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2978389181612945371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2978389181612945371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2978389181612945371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/06/may-2nd-taras-birthday.html' title='May 2nd, Tara&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SiXsvgv4lNI/AAAAAAAAB_0/qlCyapILVf0/s72-c/5-2-09-3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-778438781062938902</id><published>2009-05-11T22:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T22:54:42.466-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara's School Field Trip</title><content type='html'>I chaperoned a small group of 1st graders which included Tara. We went to Meijer Frederick Gardens to see the butterfly's and sculptures. We were given a clipboard of specific things that we had to find. It's always interesting to watch the kids. They didn't have a lot of interest in the things that we needed to makes notes of. They were way more interested in the tree top playhouse and other play things. If Mr. Spicer was to give us a grade on our completed tasks, it would probably equal around a C. This is not my best work by far but it was really hard to keep them on track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started with the butterfly's. I could have spent many hour in here but our priority for our worksheet focused on the sculptures. Here is one of Tara's favorite sculptures:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339956196004874690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtV3jMEScI/AAAAAAAAB_E/iuUyR1E8mz8/s800/4-28-09-7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did take a little time to play in the butterfly house. They have hands on activities that include puzzles, books, marker boards, scent's, microscopes, and costumes. I think Tara tried on every butterfly costume there.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339956810020066658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtWbSkslWI/AAAAAAAAB_M/3B3kypZ4sok/s800/4-28-09-6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found these little critters inside a cabin house designed to give us a feel for life as an early settler. We entered the closed door and was playing an old fashioned checkers game when we noticed these two little creatures in the corner:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339957406414336322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtW-AUK8UI/AAAAAAAAB_U/lMC0YqI5Y7U/s800/4-28-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm not sure but I think they are chipmunks, babies probably. The one was so scared that he peed all over. Poor thing, I would be scared too if a bunch of screaming 6 year olds came running at me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyways, our job was to study the sculptures and to decide which one made us sad, which one made us happy, which one was made from wood, which one didn't we like, which one surprised us, etc. They got side tracked many times. Here Tara took off on a boat race through the giant great lakes display:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339958760009945602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtYMy2g0gI/AAAAAAAAB_c/N8RC_Ms81Eg/s800/4-28-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was fun but Tara had her eye on this giant hill the entire time. She was dying to roll down it. I kept telling her no but right before we left, I gave her the ok. Good thing I waited too since she ended up muddy from it.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339959127633121650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtYiMWtUXI/AAAAAAAAB_k/ztb-xO3om7A/s800/4-28-09-8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339959191136600898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtYl47Hg0I/AAAAAAAAB_s/uOGc887WeSk/s800/4-28-09-9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-778438781062938902?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/778438781062938902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=778438781062938902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/778438781062938902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/778438781062938902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/05/taras-school-field-trip.html' title='Tara&apos;s School Field Trip'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtV3jMEScI/AAAAAAAAB_E/iuUyR1E8mz8/s72-c/4-28-09-7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6701927667921125872</id><published>2009-05-10T21:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T22:25:52.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Look what I found</title><content type='html'>It's been a few weeks but I was pulling out of my driveway to take the kids to school and I glanced at my front yard and noticed these:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339946929067555042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtNcJKCeOI/AAAAAAAAB-8/-eN3-5L8jL4/s800/4-27-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are morale mushrooms and they are delicious. We ended up picking around 20 of them during a few days time. I don't know why they were there, its a first. Anyways, Cameron came home from school, cleaned them all up and then ate the entire batch all by himself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6701927667921125872?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6701927667921125872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6701927667921125872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6701927667921125872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6701927667921125872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/05/look-what-i-found.html' title='Look what I found'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ShtNcJKCeOI/AAAAAAAAB-8/-eN3-5L8jL4/s72-c/4-27-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-946316136398962675</id><published>2009-05-01T21:32:00.016-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T22:41:02.329-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara's Special Day</title><content type='html'>This is the day that she has been waiting for. For over a month, she has been counting the days on the calendar. She counts them several times a day. As she waited, she planned. She drew out her plans for her hair and designed a beautiful dress on paper. She prepared for this day every day. She told her dad what she wanted him to wear. She even sketched out his outfit. She even planned their outfits down to the shoes. Although she had to compromise here (more about this later). So... this is the day, April 25th, The Father Daughter Dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She began her evening with Tammi.&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;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331778078191071954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5H6cPLMtI/AAAAAAAAB9U/-MtEQVOItKU/s800/4-25-09+6.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Tammi did her hair as I painted Tara's nails. I am so appreciative of Tammi. She went out of her way to make Tara feel special. She not only did her hair but put a subtle amount of makeup on her. Then she found some very nice jewelry for her to wear. Then it was time for a little body glitter and some perfume. She even got Tara some flowers. Spending this little bit of time with Tammi was amazing for Tara. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terry likes cowboy boots but Tara and I both know cowboy boots are a little weird. She didn't like that he wore them but she decided to accept it.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331779291531895698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5JBESK45I/AAAAAAAAB9c/S2oEZFhQtHc/s800/4-25-09+13.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;After all the primping, it was time to head out for pictures.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331779860176684770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5JiKppxuI/AAAAAAAAB9k/aTDm9T7eY0U/s800/4-25-09+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331780234649787954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5J39q_3jI/AAAAAAAAB9s/L7FBqLelOtg/s800/4-25-09+12.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331780857973921458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5KcPvDVrI/AAAAAAAAB90/UhRHru0KprU/s800/4-25-09+11.JPG" border="0" /&gt; After a quick photo session downtown, we headed to the high school for the dance.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331781347190479106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5K4uNXmQI/AAAAAAAAB98/HPdpSOAyIPw/s800/4-25-09+10.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tara insisted that her dad had to dance with her with every slow dance.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331783685145946018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5NAzxY56I/AAAAAAAAB-U/pIFTT2nGJXc/s800/4-25-09+20.JPG" border="0" /&gt;They played, "Daddy's Little Girl." Tara tells her dad, "Dad, I will never forget you." Terry was a little surprised by her and says to her, "Tara, I'm not going anywhere." And this is the moment that Tara had a few tears escape her eyes. She is a worrier and I am willing to bet that her dad is her favorite person in the whole world.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331782704000761394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5MHsuJfjI/AAAAAAAAB-E/M2OHQ7M8YwY/s800/4-25-09+5.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;We met up with Kensey at the dance. She brought her very special Grandpa George. This worked out great for them once the girls ditched their dates for some girl fun. Terry and George sat on the side line and talked. They were accompanied by several other dads who were also ditched.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331783283800011458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5MpcpD8sI/AAAAAAAAB-M/YN17MNyY9AI/s800/4-25-09+16.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since Terry's back is injured and he can only move in slow motion, Tara danced the faster dances with her friends.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331788098369310962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5RBsT1UPI/AAAAAAAAB-k/-iJhhZJff3k/s800/4-25-09+18.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331785637549070418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5OydCkWFI/AAAAAAAAB-c/_7hDJ7F4SDo/s800/4-25-09+17.JPG" border="0" /&gt;  Tara did pretty good all on her own. I am amazed that she has rhythm and really appears to know what she is doing out there. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331788689884059154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5RkH38FhI/AAAAAAAAB-s/S34CZiliqv8/s800/4-25-09+23.JPG" border="0" /&gt;She was spinning on the floor :0 Wonder where she learned that? &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331790026039939682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5Sx5cU0mI/AAAAAAAAB-0/OZv64buooow/s800/4-25-09+22.JPG" border="0" /&gt;Tara had the time of her life that night. Hopefully, this will become an annual event for our town so we will be able to come back next year.&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/8792790704583466675-946316136398962675?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/946316136398962675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=946316136398962675' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/946316136398962675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/946316136398962675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/05/taras-special-day.html' title='Tara&apos;s Special Day'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sf5H6cPLMtI/AAAAAAAAB9U/-MtEQVOItKU/s72-c/4-25-09+6.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-468109915730483727</id><published>2009-04-26T15:36:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T15:52:29.106-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara's Special Day</title><content type='html'>Saturday was crammed pack with events but the day ended in a very special evening for Tara and her Daddy. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We started the day out at the soccer fields. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329086623578761666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfS4DKeyqcI/AAAAAAAAB88/MvxNKff23oo/s800/4-25-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329089458136165826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfS6oKB8LcI/AAAAAAAAB9M/AjZ_mnrRCUo/s800/4-25-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Once the games were done we went home to grab things to go to Kristine's Baby Shower. Tara and Bella decided to check out the teenager's next door as they walked back from Tammi's. Saturday was prom for them and Tammi, as always, is the go to place for hair. Of course, Tara was in awe over what they were wearing and how Tammi did their hair. She began discussing with Bella what she should do with her hair for her special night .&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329088378543392114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfS5pUO9xXI/AAAAAAAAB9E/86GJZh_rG_U/s800/4-25-09-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will post Tara's special night soon. It's a big deal and needs its very own post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-468109915730483727?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/468109915730483727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=468109915730483727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/468109915730483727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/468109915730483727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/taras-special-day.html' title='Tara&apos;s Special Day'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfS4DKeyqcI/AAAAAAAAB88/MvxNKff23oo/s72-c/4-25-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-9176861564443660353</id><published>2009-04-21T14:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T14:51:46.202-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Day</title><content type='html'>Hope everyone had a wonderful Easter. I know we did. I am a little late in getting these pic's posted but I want them to be part of my blog when I get my 2009 book printed.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329070968245384578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSpz50c9YI/AAAAAAAAB8k/mLXH58xEuAw/s800/4-12-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;They got lots of cool stuff like new beach towels, markers, crayons, and yeap, candy but not too much.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329071669892783634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSqcvqOnhI/AAAAAAAAB8s/N-Lm83lHARM/s800/4-12-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Cameron got a basket too but his had cologne instead of markers and mechanical pencils instead of crayons. (The Easter Bunny is very clever)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;After they emptied their baskets, they decided to play with them. Just like all of the other packages that their gifts arrive in, they are as much fun as the gifts themselves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329073239075855266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSr4FUoG6I/AAAAAAAAB80/LnjOa4LZLqc/s800/4-12-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Poor, poor Bella, she didn't get an Easter basket. She was a little disappointed and decided to steal Tara's. She was running like crazy and banking off the furniture to keep from getting her basket from being taken away from her. It was so funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329070680945211554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSpjLiwOKI/AAAAAAAAB8c/MdUHhcH4vUU/s800/4-12-09-6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-9176861564443660353?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/9176861564443660353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=9176861564443660353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/9176861564443660353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/9176861564443660353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/easter-day.html' title='Easter Day'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSpz50c9YI/AAAAAAAAB8k/mLXH58xEuAw/s72-c/4-12-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1789274324075228156</id><published>2009-04-20T13:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T13:35:09.523-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Cupcakes</title><content type='html'>We tried something different this year. We have been coloring eggs for Easter for the last 15 years and no one ever eats them. Sure they have tried to but yuck. Anyways, I asked them if they would rather make cupcakes or color eggs. I explained my idea. We would buy candy and frosting of different flavors, colors, sizes, and textures. I colored &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;coconut&lt;/span&gt; flakes in different colors, same with the frosting. We tried different frosting tips for spreading it on the cakes. They LOVED it. Look at the mess we made.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329048858129969378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSVs7OJsOI/AAAAAAAAB78/Vnc34T1fcPg/s800/4-11-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is a close up of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Triston's&lt;/span&gt; little masterpieces.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329050537393341554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 666px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSXOq9vRHI/AAAAAAAAB8E/5wUmCw8RjKU/s800/4-11-09-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Here are Tara's.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329051225579898530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 666px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSX2uqMxqI/AAAAAAAAB8M/yXICkFN5dps/s800/4-11-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;They tasted pretty darn good too!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329053966459773122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSaWRO4oMI/AAAAAAAAB8U/eXTuYfgNKHI/s800/4-11-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1789274324075228156?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1789274324075228156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1789274324075228156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1789274324075228156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1789274324075228156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/easter-cupcakes.html' title='Easter Cupcakes'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SfSVs7OJsOI/AAAAAAAAB78/Vnc34T1fcPg/s72-c/4-11-09-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6949678348111422669</id><published>2009-04-19T21:03:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T21:17:53.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chore Can</title><content type='html'>I have been trying to come up with a creative but productive way to get my kids to do more around the house. I was reading about the chore can on a family website and thought it was worth the try. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326574608007973490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SevLYnPuSnI/AAAAAAAAB7c/ltVnVCe2i3g/s800/4-19-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The idea was to have can with sticks in it. Every stick has something wrote on it. Some of them include: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wash the windows&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Load or Unload the dishwasher&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sweep the front entrance&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Vacuum the Living Room&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sweep the Kitchen&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wash the Shower/Tub&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bring down the hamper in the upstairs bathroom&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Set the dinner table&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Clear the dinner table&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Water the plants&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Free chore&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dust the hard surfaces&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;There are actually 2 of the free chores in there. They never know when it will be their lucky day where they do not have to do a chore. Anyways, they have to pull a stick out of the can everyday and that is their chore for the day. If they are naughty, we may ask them to go and draw a chore stick. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I didn't even have a chance to finish painting my can and they were begging me to let them draw a stick. Well, why not? They drew their first chore and got right to work. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326575226098511122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SevL8lz_bRI/AAAAAAAAB7k/QIz0Ol5FgrA/s800/4-19-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Then they drew their second chore, then their third, and they kept going until they did every chore in the can. Terry and I sat back and just laughed because we never intended for it to work that well but anyways, my floors are clean, hard surfaces dusted, windows are sparkling, and I will have a clean tub to shower in, in the morning. Bravo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6949678348111422669?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6949678348111422669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6949678348111422669' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6949678348111422669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6949678348111422669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/chore-can.html' title='Chore Can'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SevLYnPuSnI/AAAAAAAAB7c/ltVnVCe2i3g/s72-c/4-19-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6744231219794988552</id><published>2009-04-18T21:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T21:30:08.356-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Was It Warm Enough?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Today may have been the warmest day of the year but was it warm enough for this? &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326578784434861026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SevPLtpfM-I/AAAAAAAAB70/Q-eLciyYsXw/s800/4-18-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;So the temperature made it barely over 70 and they thought they were dying and needed to play in the hose. Once they were done with that, they (Triston, Mason, Tara)  wanted to get a tan. BTW, I was trying to sneak a shot of them because whenever they see my camera, Triston hides, Tara begins her fashion poses, and Mason starts cheezing. My camera turns them into different kids. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had to cut their fun short because it was time to go to baseball and I told them it was time and Triston tells me that he can't because it was time for him to flip. Oh boy, I don't think he realizes that it takes more than 5 minutes on each side to make a difference. Silly kids.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6744231219794988552?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6744231219794988552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6744231219794988552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6744231219794988552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6744231219794988552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/was-it-warm-enough.html' title='Was It Warm Enough?'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SevPLtpfM-I/AAAAAAAAB70/Q-eLciyYsXw/s72-c/4-18-09-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8109022103963052238</id><published>2009-04-10T22:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T22:51:45.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Again</title><content type='html'>This is my last Niagara Vacation post. We were leaving Canada and were all exhausted.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325484182779393762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefrpguG9uI/AAAAAAAAB6s/mgzQ0cxmRsk/s800/4-8-09-41.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston and Tara slept most of the way home. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325484433762147698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sefr4HtD3XI/AAAAAAAAB60/x97Pi4BX6VY/s800/4-8-09-42.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here comes the scary part.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325484984836022322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefsYMnT4DI/AAAAAAAAB68/BmxIVYz8FBQ/s800/4-8-09-46.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325485251841889394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefsnvSeFHI/AAAAAAAAB7E/W6OnD9mNzQU/s800/4-8-09-51.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325485453920789314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefszgF1Y0I/AAAAAAAAB7M/sE1ZiqbRUdk/s800/4-8-09-49.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Good news...Tara was a little tense but not a single tear. She was ok this time. I think she realized that this was just another part of traveling. It's pretty hard to see the world if you aren't willing to cross an occasional bridge.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325486081689522706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeftYCtkEhI/AAAAAAAAB7U/_BVYvx8KeXI/s800/4-8-09-52.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so nice to be home. We were really worried about our puppy but she also did fine with our friends Troy and Ammie. Thanks guys, I know she's a naughty little thing. We owe you :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8109022103963052238?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8109022103963052238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8109022103963052238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8109022103963052238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8109022103963052238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/home-again.html' title='Home Again'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefrpguG9uI/AAAAAAAAB6s/mgzQ0cxmRsk/s72-c/4-8-09-41.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5870292991904277784</id><published>2009-04-09T22:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T22:35:42.174-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April 8, Last Day in Canada</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, the kids swam again. Terry checked us out of the hotel. We wanted to see one more thing before leaving...the Niagara Locks. We spent a little time at this bridge trying to figure out how in the world it allowed the ships through. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325481322513643890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefpDBZnOXI/AAAAAAAAB6U/Vme2uxqgV-U/s800/4-8-09-15.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Our best guess was that it spun around to allow them through.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325481630216627714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefpU7ruJgI/AAAAAAAAB6c/if6JPWJ1fag/s800/4-8-09-26.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We had no idea that it actually rose up to allow the ships to pass underneath. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325482105768087714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefpwnQBkKI/AAAAAAAAB6k/mr58jDGELw4/s800/4-8-09-31.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Watching this ship exit Lock 7 and travel through the canal was a highlight for me. I have always wanted to see this and am glad that my kids were able to experience it with me.&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/8792790704583466675-5870292991904277784?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5870292991904277784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5870292991904277784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5870292991904277784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5870292991904277784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-8-last-day-in-canada.html' title='April 8, Last Day in Canada'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefpDBZnOXI/AAAAAAAAB6U/Vme2uxqgV-U/s72-c/4-8-09-15.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1092182325318472850</id><published>2009-04-09T21:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T22:22:38.537-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Highlights from Niagara Falls</title><content type='html'>We were only there for 3 days and 2 nights which was not even enough but we made the best of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right after we crossed the border, we stopped for dinner at Denny's. Before Triston took his first bite, he pulled his tooth out. Eewwww (dinner wasn't the same after seeing that). Then the next problem was...Does Canada have a tooth fairy? We didn't know but Triston put his tooth under his pillow just in case. Guess what happened? The next morning, he checked under his pillow and found a $5 Canadian Bill. How Cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to do the speed limit. They have aerial patrol and we were listening to the radio and the announcer was talking about a speeder being imprisoned for 7 days. We did see this sign, which was enough for us.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325466791909945874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sefb1OruchI/AAAAAAAAB50/pSi7J8tDgLI/s800/4-8-09-40.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Our room was awesome. The main room had two queen beds, a very big flat screen TV, desk, and a little kitchen area with a microwave, sink, and small refrigerator. We had several closets. Another room had a dining room table and chairs. The third room was complete with a set of bunk beds, a flat screen TV and a DVD player. &lt;p&gt;Triston and Tara woke up before any of us and were quick to turn on their TV. They were disappointed to find all the cartoon channels except one in French. They were not thrilled watching cartoons that they couldn't understand.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The first night Terry and I took one queen bed, Cam took the one next to us, Triston took the top bunk and Tara got the bottom bunk. All was good for all of us except Cam. Apparently Terry was snoring really loud and he couldn't sleep. He ended up taking the laptop into the bathroom, closing the door and chatted with friends since sleep, for him, was out of the question. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The second night, Tara wanted a turn on the top bunk but that upset Triston. He refused to sleep on the bottom bunk and climbed into Cam's bed. Cam removed him several times before he finally gave up. Triston's persistence paid off.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325468977118019714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sefd0bN7gII/AAAAAAAAB58/NpzbrhDP6mM/s800/4-7-09-84.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh...I can't forget. The "Kissing Rock". &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325478871019574114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sefm0U34U2I/AAAAAAAAB6E/DLo_9iDdDIs/s800/4-8-09-37.jpg" border="0" /&gt;It took us a couple hours to find this place. Even their mailman couldn't help us out with directions. We were determined though because whoever kisses at this rock receives good luck and happiness. (you never know)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325479065409098050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sefm_pB9EUI/AAAAAAAAB6M/M9nA1XUnXgU/s800/4-8-09-36.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1092182325318472850?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1092182325318472850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1092182325318472850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1092182325318472850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1092182325318472850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/highlights-from-niagara-falls.html' title='Highlights from Niagara Falls'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sefb1OruchI/AAAAAAAAB50/pSi7J8tDgLI/s72-c/4-8-09-40.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1502376014201941237</id><published>2009-04-08T21:07:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T21:20:36.741-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April 7, Evening In the Water Park</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefXJLmqc2I/AAAAAAAAB5U/di0JgPHcTwo/s1600-h/4-7-09-73.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325461637122650978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefXJLmqc2I/AAAAAAAAB5U/di0JgPHcTwo/s800/4-7-09-73.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After viewing the falls and shopping we went to dinner. Triston and Tara were rushing us because they wanted to play in the water again. This is what we did until they closed the place down that night.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325462220445569938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefXrIpr05I/AAAAAAAAB5c/DhWdJnxKeag/s800/4-7-09-8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325463200571896098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefYkL6AsSI/AAAAAAAAB5s/ucyJQOA20cU/s800/4-7-09-7-copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325462640058223890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefYDj1IzRI/AAAAAAAAB5k/M63W4xKqZuY/s800/4-7-09-39.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1502376014201941237?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1502376014201941237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1502376014201941237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1502376014201941237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1502376014201941237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-7-evening-in-water-park.html' title='April 7, Evening In the Water Park'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefXJLmqc2I/AAAAAAAAB5U/di0JgPHcTwo/s72-c/4-7-09-73.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6173632382484329079</id><published>2009-04-08T20:13:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T21:05:33.097-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April 7, P.M., Second Day in Canada</title><content type='html'>After the kids had their fun in the pool we were finally able to head to the falls to see what we came for. The first picture is the American Falls. You are looking directly at New York while standing in Canada. My kids thought that was interesting.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325450141370259570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefMsCltmHI/AAAAAAAAB4E/h8y4Qe7hSCE/s800/4-7-09-16.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Next are the Horseshoe falls which are truly amazing. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325453000729566514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefPSeiGHTI/AAAAAAAAB4k/5ZyGgUNNuJM/s800/4-8-09-12.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The water falls with such force. It falls 170 feet and the depth of the water below is 180 feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325452215982073634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefOkzHtpyI/AAAAAAAAB4U/va5hiRt9eYg/s800/4-7-09-24.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I took a lot of pictures but the weather was awful. It wasn't raining but the wind was blowing and this caused the water from the falls to spray everywhere. It was also very cold. We could only handle being out next to it for around 20 minutes and our hair and faces would be drenched and then frozen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325454954798607298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefREOAda8I/AAAAAAAAB4s/3vElh8hVc4w/s800/4-7-09-32.jpg" border="0" /&gt;There was so much moisture in the air that my camcorder gave me an error message and then wouldn't work again for 24 hours. That was disappointing and so were my pictures. I had all intentions on printing a big print for our home but we decided that we would have to go back when the weather was better. We also need more time to allow for bad weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whenever we were froze and couldn't take it anymore, we went inside the visitor's center where they had multiple floors of small shops. Cam is waiting for us at the top of the escalator. Doesn't he look thrilled? I think he is pretending not to know his goofy acting parents who are approaching him.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325455887960871138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefR6iTrkOI/AAAAAAAAB48/l3ojtpxRJQk/s800/4-7-09-29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;He thought we were being weird. I was recording Terry and he was taking a picture of me as we rode the escalator up to the top floor. (Sometimes the adults need to have a little fun too)&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325455807906510130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefR14FO9TI/AAAAAAAAB40/J6bsF-lz8vE/s800/4-7-09-36.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Here is Tara's prize of the day. She bought a little bag of Niagara Fall rocks.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325456608527810194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefSkeoOfpI/AAAAAAAAB5E/3W4pPpoYnac/s800/4-7-09-30.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6173632382484329079?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6173632382484329079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6173632382484329079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6173632382484329079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6173632382484329079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-7-pm-second-day-in-canada.html' title='April 7, P.M., Second Day in Canada'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefMsCltmHI/AAAAAAAAB4E/h8y4Qe7hSCE/s72-c/4-7-09-16.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5416835065316132775</id><published>2009-04-08T16:37:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T21:01:34.937-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April 7, A.M., Second Day in Canada</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Guess what the kids wanted to do as soon as they woke up? Walking into the hotel and seeing this right off the bat brought about an entire new type of anxiety. They just couldn't wait to make a splash.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325020464936838274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZF5lI-5II/AAAAAAAAB3c/CmBPt2xrr3s/s800/4-7-09-6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and Tara hit the water right off the bat.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325022265161298882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZHiXf8M8I/AAAAAAAAB3k/SB3VjV6kfGc/s800/4-7-09-26.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325458908209251410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SefUqVnAhFI/AAAAAAAAB5M/o-czvfUNCaE/s800/4-7-09-37.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It took the big boys a little bit to decide that it did actually look like fun.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325027724015311074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZMgHUKGOI/AAAAAAAAB38/mOlbJQccpKY/s800/4-7-09-merge.jpg" border="0" /&gt;They did have fun too. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325022528036060658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZHxqyKvfI/AAAAAAAAB30/kJuTkJvhQWw/s800/4-7-09-46.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Playing in the water park is really the only thing that the little ones wanted to do but we had other sightseeing planned. After all, you don't visit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Niagara&lt;/span&gt; Falls, Ontario, Canada for the hotel water park. My next post will include our afternoon adventures.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5416835065316132775?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5416835065316132775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5416835065316132775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5416835065316132775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5416835065316132775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-7-am-second-day-in-canada.html' title='April 7, A.M., Second Day in Canada'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZF5lI-5II/AAAAAAAAB3c/CmBPt2xrr3s/s72-c/4-7-09-6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2662018748902754329</id><published>2009-04-07T16:07:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T16:35:48.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April 6, 2009, First Day in Canada</title><content type='html'>We left Michigan, April 6 around 3:30pm. Our directions gave us an estimated driving time of 6.5 hours. We didn't realize getting through customs and other things would take so long. We entered into Canada via this bridge:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325017465693740578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZDLAFtHiI/AAAAAAAAB3U/U6JgPMCYfeM/s800/4-6-09-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;How do you think Tara handled that? Well, I have blogged about her fear of bridges before. Well, not much has changed. All of us were in awe over the scene around us and then Terry turned around and found Tara crying in the back seat. It was a really scary experience for her but she was proud and relieved once we were over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325016236293714786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZCDcN5c2I/AAAAAAAAB3E/JXaDrU5xNpg/s800/4-6-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt; We arrived at the hotel around 11:30pm. Customs wasn't the only culprit, we had to stop for potty breaks, eating, and fuel. We also didn't consider the foreign speed limits. This was their posted speed limit for the first several miles of highway driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325016409688056466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZCNiKVIpI/AAAAAAAAB3M/tMLVO2EvLYY/s800/4-6-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;It was a relief when we finally arrived, even though we went straight to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2662018748902754329?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2662018748902754329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2662018748902754329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2662018748902754329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2662018748902754329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/april-6-2009-first-day-in-canada.html' title='April 6, 2009, First Day in Canada'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SeZDLAFtHiI/AAAAAAAAB3U/U6JgPMCYfeM/s72-c/4-6-09-3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6084233641224087142</id><published>2009-04-03T14:10:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T14:20:53.608-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara's Sick</title><content type='html'>She had to stay home from school 2 days this week because she has a sore throught and is starting to cough. She fell asleep on the couch cuddled up to Gabby.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320530405072641314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SdZSNssFHSI/AAAAAAAAB20/nPEoVYPvCK8/s800/4-1-09-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;This is the most protective, motherly cat I have ever known. She loves Tara so much and knows when she doesn't feel good. I think I talked about it on my blog before but she's the cat that runs up to Tara whenever she is crying and she rubs her face all over Tara's face to try and make her feel better. I'm just amazed at how intelligent and caring this cat is.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320531106696503122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SdZS2icPn1I/AAAAAAAAB28/6dd0v5gth-8/s800/4-1-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They laid together the entire time that Tara napped. Tara has her arm around Gabby and then the blanket over both of them. I'm not even sure I could remain comfortable in that position but Gabby doesn't appear to mind a bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6084233641224087142?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6084233641224087142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6084233641224087142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6084233641224087142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6084233641224087142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/04/taras-sick.html' title='Tara&apos;s Sick'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SdZSNssFHSI/AAAAAAAAB20/nPEoVYPvCK8/s72-c/4-1-09-5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5068350941173939516</id><published>2009-03-30T15:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T16:17:08.153-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Duckfish</title><content type='html'>Triston has a little pocket knife that his dad will let him use when he is supervising him and under a strict set of rules. Triston got home from school today and asked if he could carve a duck out of a bar of soap. Wow, what a good idea. He was widdeling away and then presented his final creation to us.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319076348979939986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SdEnwfohipI/AAAAAAAAB2s/9_t1UGKJzSc/s800/3-30-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well isn't that awesome. He proceeds to tell us that it was supposed to be a duck but it turned out as a fish. What a wonderful fish. It is now on display on the bookshelf of our home. Wonder if he will eventually use it.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319076136216154610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 537px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SdEnkHBr0fI/AAAAAAAAB2k/uBx9Slyb9Eg/s800/3-30-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston, you amaze me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5068350941173939516?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5068350941173939516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5068350941173939516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5068350941173939516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5068350941173939516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/duckfish.html' title='Duckfish'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SdEnwfohipI/AAAAAAAAB2s/9_t1UGKJzSc/s72-c/3-30-09-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1053887546407447014</id><published>2009-03-24T22:21:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T22:36:25.816-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Twilight Shoot</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ScmYXEVOWNI/AAAAAAAAB2c/FmkdUSTIyLk/s1600-h/3-24-09-15.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316948357154756818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ScmYXEVOWNI/AAAAAAAAB2c/FmkdUSTIyLk/s800/3-24-09-15.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tara has been begging me to do a Twilight photo shoot of her. I finally made it happen tonight. I thought the pic's would accompany a nice list of the reason's why Tara thinks she is half vampire. Really, she told me she's pretty sure she is half vampire. Here are her reason's why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;She can run really fast &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Her skin has turned white &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes she can read Mason's mind&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;She can bite really hard&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;She has a tough body which has kept her from getting hurt really bad&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;She has vampire teeth&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;She has a vampire look&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;She rarely ever sleeps&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;She is really strong (and went out and broke a really big rock to prove it to me)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I did tell her that there is no such thing as vampires but the idea of being super powerful and being able to live forever is soooo appealing. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316946579803706850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 537px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ScmWvnLtleI/AAAAAAAAB2U/PBI6Z7abfic/s800/3-24-09-20.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1053887546407447014?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1053887546407447014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1053887546407447014' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1053887546407447014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1053887546407447014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/twilight-shoot.html' title='Twilight Shoot'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ScmYXEVOWNI/AAAAAAAAB2c/FmkdUSTIyLk/s72-c/3-24-09-15.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1548023176367284577</id><published>2009-03-24T21:59:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T22:37:41.446-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara (and I) are Twilight Addicts</title><content type='html'>I read all the books. Tara would like for me to read them all to her but instead, I have told her about the first book. She's seen previews for the movie and became increasingly excited about watching it. Tara is a sucker for a love story. Of course, I wasn't sure if I could wait until its DVD release.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the big release day came at 12:01am on March 21. Tara and I went back and forth about leaving our home, in the middle of the night, to go out and buy a DVD. If that wasn't extreme enough, we also wanted to watch it when we got home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hung around the house most of the evening. Tara started feeling tired. I told her that it was ok, we could run our money next door to Stacy, she was going with her girlfriends to the release. We could either watch it when she got back or first thing in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a long discussion, we walked next door to give Stacy our money. Unfortunately, she had already left. This left us with a dilemma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tara, at this point, knew she had to do it. This is the first time in her young life that she has stayed up this late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived at Walmart at 11pm and sat in the truck a half hour. I wasn't quite ready to face a store full of crazed teenagers. It wasn't bad and you wouldn't believe the amount of older women, like myself, who were just as eager. Tara and I picked out a shirt for her, we grabbed the soundtrack to listen to on the way home, and, finally, at 12:01am, we grabbed our DVD 2-disc copy of Twilight. We raced to the checkout, made our purchase, and headed home as we jammed to some really awesome music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At home, we made us a bed on the couch, put the DVD in to play and settled down for the movie. I really didn't think Tara would make it through the first half hour but it was me who was struggling. Tara woke me up several times through the movie. She stayed up for the entire thing. We went to bed at 2:50am. Then, around 8am, I was awoke by the sounds of Twilight playing in the DVD again. She was back in front of the movie. As a matter of fact, she has watched it everyday and sometimes more than once.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1548023176367284577?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1548023176367284577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1548023176367284577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1548023176367284577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1548023176367284577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/tara-and-i-are-twilight-addicts.html' title='Tara (and I) are Twilight Addicts'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6144256752000192343</id><published>2009-03-24T18:07:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T18:45:06.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Crated Animals</title><content type='html'>Tara wants to know if she can sleep with Bella in her crate. Obviously, they both fit. They like to play in there and whatever Tara is doing, Bella follows her. It is so cute. Tara even does her own imitation of Bella. They are panting, complete with their tongues out, simultaneously.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316887728534546658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SclhOBHvaOI/AAAAAAAAB10/VlE25nmKN5E/s800/3-24-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Gabby, our cat, can't figure out what in the world they are up to. She keeps a watchful eye on them but never participates in their crazy maneuvers.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316888635423261170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/ScliCzi3AfI/AAAAAAAAB18/RhvNo2meGm0/s800/3-24-09-7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6144256752000192343?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6144256752000192343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6144256752000192343' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6144256752000192343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6144256752000192343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/crated-animals.html' title='Crated Animals'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SclhOBHvaOI/AAAAAAAAB10/VlE25nmKN5E/s72-c/3-24-09-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2507430797763150327</id><published>2009-03-21T18:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T19:04:35.698-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Look what Triston caught</title><content type='html'>It's a catfish. Terry and Triston went fishing. Their goal was to catch some Steel head but they were not so lucky. Terry didn't catch a single fish but Triston did manage to catch this little catfish which he was very proud of. Terry asked him repeatedly if they could release it since that was not what they were trying to catch and in all reality, it's a little on the small size to eat. Nonetheless, Terry abided. They brought it in and put it in the side of my sink and gave it some much needed water. To my surprise, the thing came to after a few hours without water. So...it slept through the night in the sink and was still alive. We tried again to talk Triston into releasing it but he wanted it and repeatedly told us, "It's my first catfish." &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316893340739875618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SclmUsNwsyI/AAAAAAAAB2E/u5HSnqtywCo/s800/3-21-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;He swam around the entire second day, in my sink. Well, all day except for about an hour. He spent some time flopping around after he attempted an escape from his little home in my sink. I had to use my kitchen thongs to pick him up and put him back in the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The morning of his third day, in my sink, we finally made the decision to release him downtown. If he can survive days in my sink, living on dog food, he will survive to be a very big catfish. We will catch him again someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2507430797763150327?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2507430797763150327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2507430797763150327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2507430797763150327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2507430797763150327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/look-what-triston-caught.html' title='Look what Triston caught'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SclmUsNwsyI/AAAAAAAAB2E/u5HSnqtywCo/s72-c/3-21-09-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8722658125558654884</id><published>2009-03-12T22:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T22:53:29.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>She Sleeps Weird</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I don't know how she does it but she does. She sleeps in the weirdest positions. We have even witnessed her falling off the couch while sleeping. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312870781417121714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sbsb06_rZ7I/AAAAAAAAB1s/CLpCSbmSudk/s800/3-12-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8722658125558654884?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8722658125558654884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8722658125558654884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8722658125558654884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8722658125558654884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/she-sleeps-weird.html' title='She Sleeps Weird'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sbsb06_rZ7I/AAAAAAAAB1s/CLpCSbmSudk/s72-c/3-12-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-4997132559204653090</id><published>2009-03-09T22:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T22:45:12.599-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bella Loves Tara</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Tara thought she was going to try and rest on the couch but Bella had other plans.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312868769106282194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SbsZ_yjYxtI/AAAAAAAAB1k/For0DVdNiiA/s800/3-9-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-4997132559204653090?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/4997132559204653090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=4997132559204653090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/4997132559204653090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/4997132559204653090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/bella-loves-tara.html' title='Bella Loves Tara'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SbsZ_yjYxtI/AAAAAAAAB1k/For0DVdNiiA/s72-c/3-9-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8527086369188772908</id><published>2009-03-07T21:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T22:09:34.994-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you Stranger</title><content type='html'>Terry and I, along with Tara went to a local restaurant for dinner. The boys were all gone and we didn't want to travel too far away from Bella so we stayed right here in town. We arrived at Village Inn, there were only two other couples there. We chose seats near the entrance since they were non-smoking. Terry had the perfect view of every person who entered the restaurant and of course, he had nothing better to do than to watch everyone come in. He normally sees friends wherever he goes but not tonight. But that's okay. Tara has a huge project due in school. She had to build a mammal so we made a horse using paper mache but the hard part was that she had to memorize 10 things that make up a mammal. We spent our time helping her with that while we sat there. We had a great meal. Then we asked for our check. Our waitor told us that someone in the restaurant has already taken care of it. I was like "what?" and Terry asked "who?" but he wouldn't say and he walked away from us. We were shocked. We stood up, looked around, there was no one in there that we recognized. This is definitely the weirdest thing that has ever happened to us. I wish I could thank this person. It was a very generous gift to give a stranger. If, by some slim chance, the stranger is a blog reader...we thank you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8527086369188772908?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8527086369188772908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8527086369188772908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8527086369188772908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8527086369188772908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/thank-you-stranger.html' title='Thank you Stranger'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1250451635022111622</id><published>2009-03-05T22:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T22:35:51.924-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Aweee</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;How precious is that? They fell asleep on the living room floor together.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312866217054777762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SbsXrPa5MaI/AAAAAAAAB1c/xWJjBjyMkME/s800/3-5-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1250451635022111622?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1250451635022111622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1250451635022111622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1250451635022111622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1250451635022111622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/aweee.html' title='Aweee'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SbsXrPa5MaI/AAAAAAAAB1c/xWJjBjyMkME/s72-c/3-5-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7169572042943403458</id><published>2009-03-04T21:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T21:54:07.421-04:00</updated><title type='text'>SURPRISE TARA!!!</title><content type='html'>After years of Tara begging us, we finally did it. We have been looking at puppy's for sale in our area and finally decided to visit a local breeder to see what our options were. We finally found the perfect puppy for Tara and brought her home to surprise Tara with after school.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312483325241743250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sbm7cAQ4V5I/AAAAAAAAB1U/6L2wcvgUiME/s800/3-4-09-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Tara was very surprised. She didn't think she would ever get a puppy. She said to us that we didn't have to buy her anything for her birthday because this is the only thing she has ever wanted. She also told us that she was so happy that she felt like crying. She asked if there was such a thing as happy tears. I instantly knew we made the right choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her name is Bella Esme Bradshaw (I know... but Tara and I "are" Twilight fans). &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312482358824054274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sbm6jwE8rgI/AAAAAAAAB1M/5v4LOhWpfFc/s800/IMG_6303.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;She's a chocolate lab and so smart. Tara is already so attached to her. She told her Grandma that she couldn't come over anymore because she has to be home with Bella. They play together almost all day, well, whenever Bella is awake. Bella is also really attached to Tara. She lights up when Tara walks in the room and to watch them play together keeps us laughing. &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/8792790704583466675-7169572042943403458?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7169572042943403458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7169572042943403458' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7169572042943403458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7169572042943403458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/03/surprise-tara.html' title='SURPRISE TARA!!!'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/Sbm7cAQ4V5I/AAAAAAAAB1U/6L2wcvgUiME/s72-c/3-4-09-3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2451260687123734484</id><published>2009-02-22T18:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T18:55:44.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cameron's School Film Project</title><content type='html'>I have been dodging kids all weekend. Cameron and his friend Cory were partners for a project in their film class. They had to create a short movie. They brought in their friends Steven and Chris to do some of the acting. Before they turned in their completed project I quickly made a copy of their DVD. As I recorded it, I watched in horror at how real their movie actually looked. Also, please ignore my messing bedroom. I had no idea they were using my bedroom for part of the movie. (I also need to remember to wash those sheets before I climb into bed tonight :0)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am uploading a short clip to my Blog for the very first time since I would like to show off their gruesome work. Hopefully the upload works. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-6fe17aa00c643e1a" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v23.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6fe17aa00c643e1a%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331357872%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2AD8276F19B198B03FC504BE552FF971631A504F.6D6510294D68E86176F0543B4966160D20084A91%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6fe17aa00c643e1a%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D8u_7gw2Td8aH29vptQ078YWy_Cg&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v23.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6fe17aa00c643e1a%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331357872%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2AD8276F19B198B03FC504BE552FF971631A504F.6D6510294D68E86176F0543B4966160D20084A91%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6fe17aa00c643e1a%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D8u_7gw2Td8aH29vptQ078YWy_Cg&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2451260687123734484?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=6fe17aa00c643e1a&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2451260687123734484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2451260687123734484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2451260687123734484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2451260687123734484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/02/camerons-school-film-project.html' title='Cameron&apos;s School Film Project'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3914063593857311270</id><published>2009-02-21T12:15:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T12:26:36.282-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Spirit Week</title><content type='html'>Allegan High School had their Spirit week last week. I thought Cameron did a great job coordinating his black and orange for Friday's Tiger Pride day. I tried snapping some pic's of him this morning but my first set, which caught him smiling, didn't have my memory card in. Stupid mistake. Once I went and got my card, Cameron was done with pic's and was heading out the door. I took this first one but thankfully, Lorrie was able to get a good group shot. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305302565523446498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 537px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SaA4kxv-WuI/AAAAAAAAB00/TWsjdZTYygw/s800/2-20-09-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305302729236384050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 600px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SaA4uToLiTI/AAAAAAAAB08/jPQzLgOdelM/s800/2-20-09-Snowcoming-09-003-copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3914063593857311270?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3914063593857311270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3914063593857311270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3914063593857311270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3914063593857311270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/02/spirit-week.html' title='Spirit Week'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SaA4kxv-WuI/AAAAAAAAB00/TWsjdZTYygw/s72-c/2-20-09-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-852190980518919842</id><published>2009-02-20T20:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T20:23:10.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara will live with us FOREVER</title><content type='html'>She was all cuddled up on the love seat tonight and simply said, "I don't ever want to grow up." Tara then rolled over and faced the couch so we couldn't see her face. I was thinking about what she said and remembering her previous fears, told her that it was ok, she could live with us as long as she wanted. That's when I heard her quietly sobbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With tears rolling down her face, she tells us that she will miss us and that she will never be able to live anywhere without us. We tried to explain to her that one day, she would meet the man of her dreams or her boyfriend Jazper and would want to live with him. She doesn't agree. We tried to tell her that she would be able to have all the animals that her little heart desires. She doesn't agree. We tried to tell her that she would be able to do the things that she wanted. She still doesn't agree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's fine. I am not so sure I could live without my kids in the house either. How sad is that? I'm thinking of the empty house syndrome before I ever need to and my daughter who is only 6 years old is worried about leaving way before she needs to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-852190980518919842?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/852190980518919842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=852190980518919842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/852190980518919842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/852190980518919842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/02/tara-will-live-with-us-forever.html' title='Tara will live with us FOREVER'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5148577878037843072</id><published>2009-02-16T08:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T09:11:45.701-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cameron's Bad Luck</title><content type='html'>A week ago Cameron was getting in my Explorer. He had just spent around 45 minutes in therapy and was ready to head home. Anyways, he was sliding in at the same time as he shut the door. What he didn't realize is that his phone had slid out of his pocket and as he shut the door, the phone got crushed in the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, he was very upset. We buy our phones off eBay usually because we go through them so fast. He's only had this crushed phone a few months and now he needs a new one. While I spend the next week shopping for another phone for him, he attempts to put this one back together. Believe it or not but it does actually receive calls. Unfortunately he can't text which is his lively hood. So this is what it looks like in its present condition. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303764833011586818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SZrCA9vdVwI/AAAAAAAAB0s/KWn2mNCvf8A/s400/2-4-09+Cam%27s+Phone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Mind you, my family is very hard on cell phones. Terry has one on order currently because his fell off the roof at the County building and into a mud puddle. So anyways, to make the story even more interesting...I order Cam a new phone...he receives it Saturday...and then...Sunday morning, he went to grab a jacket by our front door and when he twisted, his phone (still in his pocket) spun and hit the door jam. So, guess what? $155 down the drain because, this new phone now has a crushed screen. Major frustration!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cameron has decided that his Bad Luck is the result of being a Bradshaw. Cameron has already injured most of the same body parts as his father and they both seem to have similar luck with vehicles, toys, food spills, phones, and pretty much everything. As a matter of fact, when I was Cameron's age, my mom told me not to hold Terry's hand when we crossed the road she didn't want me to get run over. (remember that mom?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cameron informed us that he has decided to take his wife's last name when he gets married. (He thinks this will end the bad luck) So, if he marry's his current girlfriend, he will be known as Cameron Flores.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5148577878037843072?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5148577878037843072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5148577878037843072' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5148577878037843072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5148577878037843072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/02/camerons-bad-luck.html' title='Cameron&apos;s Bad Luck'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SZrCA9vdVwI/AAAAAAAAB0s/KWn2mNCvf8A/s72-c/2-4-09+Cam%27s+Phone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1572760851421552624</id><published>2009-02-07T17:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T17:19:37.112-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara still has her boyfriend</title><content type='html'>Although Terry told Tara that she was too young for a boyfriend, she insist that she is in love. Even if it is under blackmail. The other day, the boy had a pencil and everyone wanted to check it out. He wouldn't let anyone see it but Tara and he told her "you know why?" She was very happy about this but didn't know what he would say. He then told her it was because she was his girlfriend. Tara was so delighted. It was the first thing she told me when she got in my truck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1572760851421552624?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1572760851421552624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1572760851421552624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1572760851421552624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1572760851421552624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/02/tara-still-has-her-boyfriend.html' title='Tara still has her boyfriend'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5481059518910234258</id><published>2009-02-07T13:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T17:14:44.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm very proud of Cameron</title><content type='html'>I realized last night that Cameron really is exceptional. Although he is a typical teen who appears to be wrapped up with his own social life most of the time. He does pay attention to what's happening and is quick to step up beyond his role to take care of those he loves. I am very proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My moment of realization came during dinner last night. We had dinner at a restaurant with just the boys. Tara went with her Grandma. We had some shopping to do in Kalamazoo so we stopped at a local restaurant to eat. It was a regular evening out. We sat at our table and Triston announced that he needed to use the restroom. Normally we go with Triston and Tara to the bathroom but Terry opted out this time since Triston feels as if he needs more independence as he gets older. Up until a year ago, I would make Triston go with me to the ladies room and talk about an argument. Triston hated it and was so embarrassed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel stupid for not seeing what Cameron saw. My back was towards the bathroom but still that's not an excuse. As a parent, I feel as if we should always be on guard and protective. Anyways, Cameron obviously saw something that made him uncomfortable and was quick to say, "Ok, whose going in to check on Triston?" I am like "why, what's wrong?" Terry says "go check on him" I'm like "why" (again and feeling like I missed something). Obviously, I shouldn't go into the men's room unless its an emergency. Cameron jumped up at that moment and said "Fine, I will go" and he was gone in a flash. Terry and I both sat there looking at each other. Then Terry explained to me that as soon as Triston entered the restroom door, two teenage boys followed him in there. I missed the whole thing but definately seen the concern in Cameron's face and then Terry's but everything worked out fine. Cameron didn't have to reinjure his shoulder in any defensive movements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am having a very proud moment right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5481059518910234258?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5481059518910234258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5481059518910234258' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5481059518910234258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5481059518910234258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-very-proud-of-cameron.html' title='I&apos;m very proud of Cameron'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7968182959192976231</id><published>2009-01-29T19:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T19:27:31.740-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep Tight Kitty Kitty</title><content type='html'>Tara got this new pack-n-play (doll size) for her babies for Christmas this year but our cat Gabby has taken it over. She sleeps in it all the time. Even if it is already occupied with dolls, she will lay right over them. She is a strange kitty. She's the same cat that likes to be pushed around in the baby doll stroller too. Maybe she doesn't realize that she is a cat. Hmm.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296876647441879106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SYJJPy3V0EI/AAAAAAAAB0k/we-D1VAXmkc/s800/1-15-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7968182959192976231?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7968182959192976231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7968182959192976231' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7968182959192976231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7968182959192976231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/sleep-tight-kitty-kitty.html' title='Sleep Tight Kitty Kitty'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SYJJPy3V0EI/AAAAAAAAB0k/we-D1VAXmkc/s72-c/1-15-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5807415316963619511</id><published>2009-01-29T19:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T19:19:23.679-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blackmail</title><content type='html'>Tara has a new boyfriend. It's the same boy that she has had a crush on since preschool. As a matter of fact, they have been boyfriend and girlfriend probably a zillion times this year but as soon as he says he will be her boyfriend, she does something and the next thing he tells her is that he hates her. This time its different though. Its been 3 whole days. Guess how she managed to hold onto him this time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeap, she blackmailed him. She doens't even know the meaning of the word or the fact is that her dad also told her she is too young to have a boyfriend but she doesn't care.  Anyways, she seen him kiss a book at school and told him that if doesn't agree to be her boyfriend then she will tell on him. This is so crazy, so wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5807415316963619511?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5807415316963619511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5807415316963619511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5807415316963619511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5807415316963619511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/blackmail.html' title='Blackmail'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8714339532386421429</id><published>2009-01-25T19:22:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T20:44:07.771-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Recap of our Sunday evening</title><content type='html'>Terry and Tara went out ice fishing this afternoon while the boys and I stayed home. Tara was so excited to go, she told me that she wanted to catch some fish so we could make fish sticks. So, yeah, those fish sticks that they eat are purchased from the store but I thought it was cute that she thought we could make them. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295396443438060738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SX0HAlP-FMI/AAAAAAAAB0M/qdHowotNfQM/s800/1-25-09-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;They only caught a few fish but Tara was very proud that hers was the biggest. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She was also very excited to tell me that she conquered her fear tonight. I didn't understand what she was trying to say but then she explained to me that she was scared to walk out on the ice but she did it. Terry told me that she kept telling him that she wanted to go run around on the ice but was too scared so she talked her dad into holding her hand and running around. (Maybe that's why they only caught a few fish)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;While they were gone, I cooked dinner and worked on some homework from my Internal Auditing class. I happened to be sitting at my computer when I heard Triston yelling at me from inside the bathroom. I quickly went to him but when I tried to open the door, I realized what the problem was. The door knob would turn freely but the inside part wouldn't move. It wasn't locked, but he was stuck. I grabbed a knife and slid it between the door and frame to try and move the door knob piece myself but it didn't work. I then called for Cameron to come and help. He's pretty smart. He slid Triston a screwdriver and instructed him to remove the screws from the inside of the door knob. Triston finished that and together they removed the knob but this didn't solve our problem. Our mess then looked like this:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295399470503728290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SX0Jwx8qlKI/AAAAAAAAB0U/5XdXz5Ukkug/s800/1-25-09-10.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Cameron at that point put on his coat and boots and headed outside. He gave up on the door and decided to rescue Triston from the window. I teased Triston a little bit about possibly having to slide his dinner under the door. Anyways, as Cameron tried his rescue plan I took a screwdriver and pressed and pryed the inside until it bent back and the springs and some other metal parts fell out. The door than magically opened. Triston was rescued and free but Cameron fell on the deck and injured his shoulder again so he is sitting around with ice on his shoulder now and back to the ibuprofen again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Triston later told us that he was going to use his dad's tools to break the drywall that leads to the stairway's. He knew, no matter what, that he wouldn't be trapped for too long. We told Terry the whole story when he got back but I added the fact that he should be thankful that the only damage was the door knob, it could have been much worse. We could have had a broken window or even a knew entrance from the stairwell.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What a night. So, in the near future...our visitor's who require the privacy of a closed restroom door will have to use the upstairs bathroom. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8714339532386421429?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8714339532386421429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8714339532386421429' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8714339532386421429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8714339532386421429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/recap-of-our-sunday-evening.html' title='Recap of our Sunday evening'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SX0HAlP-FMI/AAAAAAAAB0M/qdHowotNfQM/s72-c/1-25-09-4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8907642522780974164</id><published>2009-01-21T11:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T12:20:32.617-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Helpful Triston</title><content type='html'>I was browsing through some pictures from 2008 that never made it on the blog and once I saw these, I knew I had to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a busy morning where we had just taken showers and were rushing to get out the door. Triston has no problem getting himself ready right away but Tara, on the other hand, only does what she has to. She thought she was ready and turned on the video game to play. I told her that she needed to get her hair brushed and she instantly began her argument that she was playing a game. Having her hair brushed is her least favorite thing to do. Triston was quick to volunteer his services though, "Can I brush your hair, Tara?" She agreed, it was worth it to not have to stop her game.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293795490421661954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SXdW82gl4QI/AAAAAAAABzw/yfubi4Cqu1Y/s800/12-10-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Triston was able to get all the snarl's out and then he went to get her box of hair stuff. He picked out a couple of rubber bands and then proceeded to put those in her hair. He knew what he wanted to do. He talked about a girl at his school and how her hair looked and he wanted to try that style for Tara. And...the makeover results...&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293795600617331394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SXdXDRBSWsI/AAAAAAAABz4/IepjDvQarcM/s800/12-10-08-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I love it when they get along like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8907642522780974164?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8907642522780974164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8907642522780974164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8907642522780974164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8907642522780974164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/helpful-triston.html' title='The Helpful Triston'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SXdW82gl4QI/AAAAAAAABzw/yfubi4Cqu1Y/s72-c/12-10-08-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-9034966251081196000</id><published>2009-01-12T18:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T18:08:36.769-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No Money!</title><content type='html'>Triston, out of the blue tonight, informs us that the government has no money. Okay then, what do you mean, what are you talking about? He says it again. Well, how do you know that Triston? He tells us that he heard it on the news. They said the government has no money. Well, I guess he is right but its funny how kids pay attention to things when you really don't think they are, especially when it involves the bigger world around them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-9034966251081196000?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/9034966251081196000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=9034966251081196000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/9034966251081196000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/9034966251081196000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/no-money.html' title='No Money!'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6367565494168434541</id><published>2009-01-02T18:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T19:02:40.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year!</title><content type='html'>It was a peaceful evening at home. We played Triston's new Monopoly game, ate some yummy snacks, and tried to stay awake until the ball dropped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here's to another eventful year.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296869702347176946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SYJC7iXuu_I/AAAAAAAAB0c/FLXOvu_4FNw/s800/1-1-09-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6367565494168434541?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6367565494168434541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6367565494168434541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6367565494168434541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6367565494168434541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy New Year!'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SYJC7iXuu_I/AAAAAAAAB0c/FLXOvu_4FNw/s72-c/1-1-09-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7336241810377233678</id><published>2008-12-25T19:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T20:44:50.985-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>Santa came and went and needless to say, we didn't receive a new live puppy. I know Tara wants a puppy more than anything but there is a lot to consider before we actually do that. Maybe this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Santa came through with a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; video game system which has been so much fun. We all have been playing it. We spent Christmas morning opening gifts and started the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; soon after opening it. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and Tara played &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt; Sports for a few hours before we sat at the table for breakfast. They went to pick up their forks and realized their arms were weak. Tara told me her arm didn't want to work and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; agreed, he said his arm was like rubber. They were tired from using their muscles to play the different sports games. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Besides the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt;, they all received some very special gifts. Cameron received a 16GB &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ipod&lt;/span&gt; touch that he thought he was dying for. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290204993669164802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqVabyl7wI/AAAAAAAABzI/A1I5nxqdf9M/s800/12-25-08-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; received &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Bakugon&lt;/span&gt; cards and characters and Lego's, were at the top of his list. He also really wanted a marshmallow shooter which is something that I had to special order because the stores around here don't carry them. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290216249515481778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqfpnFemrI/AAAAAAAABzg/t2c5r77FXL4/s800/12-25-08-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Tara didn't make much of a list this year. She told me to buy her things that I thought she would like. One thing that I knew that she wanted was the movie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Nim's&lt;/span&gt; Island. Tara watched it before and absolutely loved it. Now she can watch it whenever. She also received Barbie stuff, things for her baby dolls, Nintendo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;DS&lt;/span&gt; game, and a makeover kit to name a few.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290209131868252386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqZLTyI6OI/AAAAAAAABzQ/j-jGe48tUSw/s800/12-25-08-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; a blessed Christmas. We were able to spend our day in good health and with family. What could be better?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7336241810377233678?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7336241810377233678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7336241810377233678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7336241810377233678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7336241810377233678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqVabyl7wI/AAAAAAAABzI/A1I5nxqdf9M/s72-c/12-25-08-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5080550521887778744</id><published>2008-12-24T23:18:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T23:30:14.251-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Are Ready, Santa</title><content type='html'>Tara made these cookies for Santa today. Dustin was sweet enough to buy her a little package of cookie mix that only required butter and water so it was very easy for her to mix up and cook.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283578387122173314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SVMKjKtZNYI/AAAAAAAABxo/tj-24u2fEwo/s400/12-24-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;They may have cooked a little longer than they should have but I don't think Santa will mind.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Of course, we can't forget the reindeer.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283578863569530690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SVMK-5nS70I/AAAAAAAABxw/-BBV2aUOl1s/s400/12-24-08-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Ever since 7am the kids have been watching &lt;a href="http://www.noradsanta.org/en/home.html"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Norad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; to watch Santa's journey around the world. He began this morning on the other side of the earth and is now within a half hour of our house. We are pretty sure we seen his lighted sleigh out in the night sky when we put out the reindeer food. So, because he is so close, I better get to bed now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone has a wonderful, Merry Christmas!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5080550521887778744?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5080550521887778744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5080550521887778744' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5080550521887778744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5080550521887778744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/12/we-are-ready-santa.html' title='We Are Ready, Santa'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SVMKjKtZNYI/AAAAAAAABxo/tj-24u2fEwo/s72-c/12-24-08-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2653978188045249716</id><published>2008-12-23T21:16:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T21:30:21.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some cats are so strange</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SVGcatwwpqI/AAAAAAAABxY/ksY84KDmRIg/s1600-h/12-22-08-Gabby-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283175820656944802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SVGcatwwpqI/AAAAAAAABxY/ksY84KDmRIg/s800/12-22-08-Gabby-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; That's what Terry found in the upstairs bathroom. He was upstairs and getting into the shower when he looked over to see Gabby sleeping in the dirty clothes hamper. Weird huh? She's never done that before but she actually looks really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;comfy&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't she cute ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283176962533571426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SVGddLlXO2I/AAAAAAAABxg/kAXIr0-cpt8/s800/12-22-08-Gabby-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2653978188045249716?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2653978188045249716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2653978188045249716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2653978188045249716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2653978188045249716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/12/some-cats-are-so-strange.html' title='Some cats are so strange'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SVGcatwwpqI/AAAAAAAABxY/ksY84KDmRIg/s72-c/12-22-08-Gabby-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5864946459681593062</id><published>2008-12-22T17:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T19:29:00.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One of many Christmas gatherings</title><content type='html'>We were in the middle of a snow storm so this party was brief but fun. The kids started out with games and prizes.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290192097539463042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqJrx9rF4I/AAAAAAAAByY/DjdDwxJSmig/s800/12-21-08-63.jpg" border="0" /&gt; We used &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Vaseline&lt;/span&gt; and construction paper to stick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Rudolph&lt;/span&gt; noses to the kids. They actually ran around like this for a while.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290189483217154402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqHTm2qcWI/AAAAAAAABx4/T-pgFWlJBKk/s800/12-21-08-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; seemed to be a good source of entertainment once we ran out of the planned games. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290191579934807938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqJNpvG14I/AAAAAAAAByQ/teXfUu4hOrU/s800/12-21-08-23.jpg" border="0" /&gt;He wore out the knee in his jeans giving horseback rides.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290190765119062386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqIeOT5QXI/AAAAAAAAByA/sshlhWKeObM/s800/12-21-08-30.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did as much falling as they did riding.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290190927811489522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqInsYyrvI/AAAAAAAAByI/-lg_rj7SFC8/s800/12-21-08-22.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They opened up presents.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290192848155153634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqKXeOZlOI/AAAAAAAAByg/NJBwKvIsRh8/s800/12-21-08-72.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290193164155446866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqKp3avZlI/AAAAAAAAByo/nvE4sCwDrV0/s800/12-21-08-75.jpg" border="0" /&gt;All the little girls received makeup (thanks Maria). As soon as they had them opened the makeovers began.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290193734402797874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqLLDwTcTI/AAAAAAAAByw/pZ3HliYXkrc/s800/12-21-08-82.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A big surprise for the kids...Santa showed up and gave them each a sucker.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290194202389875410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqLmTJHitI/AAAAAAAABy4/w_5KJ4sMHrQ/s800/12-21-08-51.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tara was all smiles even though she thought his hair was too yellow to be the real Santa. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290195633987104722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqM5oQfr9I/AAAAAAAABzA/kwh4ued8OZk/s800/12-21-08-57.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Santa took a moment to talk to Tara. He asked her what she wanted for Christmas. Before I tell you what she said I need to explain something. The whole family made an agreement that we would ask Santa for a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Wii&lt;/span&gt;. It would be a family gift and it is something that everyone has wanted. We were all in agreement. So, what does Tara say? She says she wants a real live puppy. Hm...there are some (live) things that Santa has to talk with parents about beforehand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5864946459681593062?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5864946459681593062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5864946459681593062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5864946459681593062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5864946459681593062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2009/01/one-of-many-christmas-gatherings.html' title='One of many Christmas gatherings'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SWqJrx9rF4I/AAAAAAAAByY/DjdDwxJSmig/s72-c/12-21-08-63.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8777104121646138272</id><published>2008-12-20T12:34:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T13:00:22.518-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That Cameron...</title><content type='html'>I'm not so sure he was built for sports. He had knee surgery this last summer because he tore his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;meniscus&lt;/span&gt;, a ligament, and damaged his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ACL&lt;/span&gt; in his knee when he dislocated it hitting a ball in baseball. This, in itself, seemed like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;freak&lt;/span&gt; accident but is nothing compared to this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cameron made the Varsity swim team. His coach praised his natural abilities and he quickly broke several records on his own team. He went to his first meet in pain and told me that he was sitting out because of some shoulder pain. He has been dealing with the pain from the first week of swim practice. It hurt pretty bad but everyone assumed it was muscle aches from the very strenuous practices. His coach asked him to do the swim, give it a try. Cameron did great. He came in 3rd and was only 2.5 seconds away from moving onto to State competition. Cam would have had no trouble qualifying if his shoulder felt better, had shaved his legs and also capped his hair on his head. The hair adds a lot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;resistance&lt;/span&gt;, and of course seconds to the time. So this is my time to brag about how great he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the meet, their trainer told Cameron that he should probably talk with a doctor about the pain that he is feeling because it should have subsided with the time that he had off. And so we did. We went in and that doctor ordered &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;xrays&lt;/span&gt; and a MRI. Once the MRI came back they were calling to get us into the surgeon right away because his injury was already left untreated for so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how it happened and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;no one&lt;/span&gt; can really explain it but Cameron chipped off part of the ball of his shoulder and it is floating around in there. They called it a fracture but it will not heal or subside in pain until it is secured back in place or removed and an artificial piece put in there. So here we are, less than a year from his last surgery, facing another surgery the beginning of January. And why would we assume swimming would be safer on his joints?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were speaking with Dr. Warner, I jokingly told him that maybe we should make him Cameron's family doctor. Well, he has seen Dr. Warner more than any other doctor. The receptionist teased back and told Cameron that if he comes there enough, they will just have to give him a job. Everyone, except Cam, made fun of his situation. Sorry Cam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;disappointed&lt;/span&gt; that he is out for the rest of the swimming season and was even more disappointed to hear that he would not, likely, be able to play baseball this year either. After 14 straight years of baseball, this will be the year that he is unable to return. This is a bummer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8777104121646138272?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8777104121646138272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8777104121646138272' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8777104121646138272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8777104121646138272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/12/that-cameron.html' title='That Cameron...'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-260761494577686021</id><published>2008-12-20T12:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T12:33:51.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Snow Day From School</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://henricksons.blogspot.com/"&gt;My neighbor&lt;/a&gt; posted about their snow day off. Mine wasn't so much fun but it inspired me to write about it anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were cooped up in the house because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; was running a fever of 102.6. I took him in to Prompt Care since his throat showed the signs of Strep. They confirmed it and sent us on our way with an antibiotic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was Cameron's turn to go to the doctor. The hospital called the day before to tell me that the MRI shows a fracture on the ball of his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;shoulder&lt;/span&gt;. Oh, did I not post about this incident? Hold on, one story at a time. Anyways, the surgeon's office squeezed him in Friday so we ventured up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned how to snow blow my own driveway. Yeah, this is a major accomplishment. My mom was on her way over and I really didn't think she could make it in the driveway and then back out. Of course, Terry was working (every single day lately). I needed my mom to watch &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and Tara while I took Cam in because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; would have exposed everyone to Strep and he was feeling really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;awful&lt;/span&gt;. So I'm outside looking over the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;snow blower&lt;/span&gt; when my neighbor boy came over to assist me. Of course Steven was more than willing to do my driveway for me but I asked him if he would teach me how because I really need to learn this thing. He gave me a quick &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;tutorial&lt;/span&gt; and then I was off and running :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;snow day&lt;/span&gt; was spent running back and forth from the doctor and taking care of the sick kids. We did find time for some lazy activities which included a movie and video game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-260761494577686021?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/260761494577686021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=260761494577686021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/260761494577686021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/260761494577686021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/12/our-snow-day-from-school.html' title='Our Snow Day From School'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-2997561162403110509</id><published>2008-12-20T11:51:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T12:17:03.402-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Slightly Altered Family Tradition</title><content type='html'>Every year, since Cameron was a baby, we would venture out the day after Thanksgiving to cut down the best, most perfect Christmas tree that we could find. We love this time that we have as a family making such an important decision. We did go out and get our tree as a family this year but, we ended up going the following weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We shopped for our tree at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wahmhoff&lt;/span&gt; farms near &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Gobles&lt;/span&gt;. We drove around the fields until we found the perfect tree.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281918352715506754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SU0kwco5ZEI/AAAAAAAABww/pmzJWaFCE9M/s800/12-06-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and Tara both took a turn to try and cut the tree down but Terry ended up having to make the final cuts.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281919218854054770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SU0li3Qay3I/AAAAAAAABw4/IhFeuEusx5I/s800/12-06-08-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Cameron drug it back to the truck.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281919699093541298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SU0l-0Sb0bI/AAAAAAAABxA/0ZDhW8MHIE4/s800/12-06-08-12.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boys loaded the tree and we headed back to the building to check on the horse drawn &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sleigh&lt;/span&gt; rides and to view the real live reindeer. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281920669261143346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SU0m3ScanTI/AAAAAAAABxI/ifnNo7q9oHk/s800/12-06-08-22.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These reindeer don't look anything like the ones from the Rudolph cartoon. Hmm.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281921964388262754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SU0oCrKyI2I/AAAAAAAABxQ/3jcsBv-wFcQ/s800/12-06-08-29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-2997561162403110509?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/2997561162403110509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=2997561162403110509' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2997561162403110509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/2997561162403110509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/12/slightly-altered-family-tradition.html' title='Slightly Altered Family Tradition'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SU0kwco5ZEI/AAAAAAAABww/pmzJWaFCE9M/s72-c/12-06-08-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3558668731856477884</id><published>2008-12-10T22:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T22:39:10.918-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gephyrophobia</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Gephyrophobia&lt;/span&gt; is actually &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Greek&lt;/span&gt; for "fear of bridge". Now you are probably wondering why I'm blogging about this phobia. Here goes...I was driving along just like any other day when I heard a gasp in my back seat. I was driving and Terry, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt;, and Tara were all with me. The gasp caught my attention and was followed by a "I can't believe you drove too fast on the bridge". That was my little Tara and she has requested that we not drive on bridges any more. The bridge and her newly discovered phobia were the subject of conversation that evening. She is really scared that we will slip off the bridge and into the freezing water. She thinks it is a common &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;occurrence&lt;/span&gt;, especially with the roads being wet, snowy, or icy. We did explain to her that not driving on bridges would be really hard since we have several in our town. We also talked about some of the most popular bridges in the U.S. How would we ever be able to take a vacation if we can't drive on bridges. Tara is pretty sure that we will be able to drive on bridges again once summer arrives but, until then, I'm not sure what we are going to do. How crazy is this?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3558668731856477884?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3558668731856477884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3558668731856477884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3558668731856477884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3558668731856477884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/12/gephyrophobia.html' title='Gephyrophobia'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7610426557558121850</id><published>2008-12-07T11:45:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T13:40:37.844-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Twilight</title><content type='html'>Pretty much every teenage girl I know has read the book and seen the movie now. Even though my daughter hasn't (she's too young), she thinks everything that she has heard is really cool. Her and I were playing with one of her photos today and created this:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277119646025793458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/STwYW9KaP7I/AAAAAAAABWk/bw72UX5Y1oo/s800/Tara-Twilight.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7610426557558121850?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7610426557558121850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7610426557558121850' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7610426557558121850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7610426557558121850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/12/twilight.html' title='Twilight'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/STwYW9KaP7I/AAAAAAAABWk/bw72UX5Y1oo/s72-c/Tara-Twilight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5457241113121276256</id><published>2008-12-07T09:13:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T09:43:00.079-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Creativity with a box</title><content type='html'>My kids have always loved boxes and I swear they would rather play with a box than a toy most of the time. I was cleaning my office last week and found a new place for everything that was in a box. I then gave the box to Triston. He was thrilled with his new toy and ran off with it to personalize it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I found him playing with his completed project.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277056793294730482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/STvfMcfk9PI/AAAAAAAABWM/4G10D9QR8Yk/s800/12-01-08-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Triston is in the back of the vehicle (box). The bear is driving because Triston has to do the shooting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277052972891052706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/STvbuEYXGqI/AAAAAAAABWE/K9S19HXmOeE/s800/12-1-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I was admiring his creativity and had no intentions on taking any other photos but then I seen this:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277056902133773218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 572px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/STvfSx8086I/AAAAAAAABWU/036PwXUAG_o/s800/12-1-08-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;That bear is wearing Triston's socks and underwear. Triston told me that they are like shorts on him and he didn't have anything else that would fit him. Ok.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5457241113121276256?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5457241113121276256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5457241113121276256' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5457241113121276256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5457241113121276256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/12/creativity-with-box.html' title='Creativity with a box'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/STvfMcfk9PI/AAAAAAAABWM/4G10D9QR8Yk/s72-c/12-01-08-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3367331208110504677</id><published>2008-11-27T22:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T12:14:54.749-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am Thankful</title><content type='html'>There are so many things in my life that I am thankful for. Because of some recent news, I have been reevaluating my relationship with everyone that I know. What I do know, every soul is a gift from God and our life on earth is only temporary. Don't take those who are important for granted. You really don't know when will be your last conversation, last hug, or last "I love yous". I have an awesome and well connected family. I also have friends who feel more like family because they are so special. I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; thankful to all of you and am not so sure that I would have made it through this past year, with my sanity, if it wasn't for the support of my family and friends. I am thankful for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't say enough about the people in my life but I also want to give an extra special praise out to the Grandma's who help us take care of our kids. Taking care of them is a job like no other. While it is rewarding, it "is" the hardest work that anyone can do. I cannot imagine working and having to worry about who is taking care of my kids, if they are safe, happy, etc. Thank you Grandma's for that peace of mind. I am thankful that they love and care for my kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is my husband...He's the greatest. Although the whole laundry thing isn't working out so well, he has given it his all. His main goal has been to run around like crazy trying to get the kids here and there after school, to come home and prepare dinner and to quickly clean house before I arrive home from work. It's an impossible job but he is determined to make my life as easy as possible. It's hard to imagine the after school &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;chaos&lt;/span&gt; but anyone who has witnessed it (mom, that means you) can really understand the craziness. He is awesome and I love him for being so great. I am thankful that he is not only a great dad but a great husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I am thankful for my three, not so little, babies. Everything I do, I do with them in mind. I live and breath for them and would do anything for them. They are great kids who will do big things in life. I am thankful that I get to be their mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other things that I am thankful for include the health of those who are so important to me, the home that I live in, and a job that I love. I feel truly blessed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3367331208110504677?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3367331208110504677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3367331208110504677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3367331208110504677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3367331208110504677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-thankful.html' title='I Am Thankful'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7577690111294992813</id><published>2008-11-26T21:16:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T21:57:17.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rock Star Baby</title><content type='html'>I pulled in an hour early after my boss told us all to go ahead and go home for the day. We were all excited to start our Thanksgiving break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I pull in and Tara runs right out to my truck to welcome me home. I noticed how cute she was and told her so. She tells me that she is a Rock Star and then proceeds to play me a tune with her "air guitar". I smile at her cuteness and her creativity. Of course my next sentence is; "Do you want mommy to take a picture?" Tara says, "Sure". She is always up for pics and so am I. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273165314899758786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SS4L6lyCzsI/AAAAAAAABV8/nJX7BLFc71A/s800/11-26-08-16.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7577690111294992813?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7577690111294992813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7577690111294992813' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7577690111294992813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7577690111294992813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/11/rock-star-baby.html' title='Rock Star Baby'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SS4L6lyCzsI/AAAAAAAABV8/nJX7BLFc71A/s72-c/11-26-08-16.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6608328788232262698</id><published>2008-11-23T21:08:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T21:21:29.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Triston has a soft spot</title><content type='html'>We were driving along jamming to the radio when "One Step At A Time" by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jordin&lt;/span&gt; Sparks comes on the radio. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; tells us that he loves this song. Then he says "It gets to my soft spot". &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Awweee&lt;/span&gt;, I love to hear my kids express their feelings. They know how it makes them feel but explaining it can be the difficult part. It's a great song, the music is joyful and soothing. I think I understand what he feels when he hears the song. If you want to hear the song click on the following link: &lt;a href="http://www.jango.com/music/Jordin+Sparks/One+Step+At+A+Time"&gt;Click Here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6608328788232262698?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6608328788232262698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6608328788232262698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6608328788232262698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6608328788232262698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/11/triston-has-soft-spot.html' title='Triston has a soft spot'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3820324508391581306</id><published>2008-11-23T19:30:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T20:10:31.858-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Venturing into new territory</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Cameron is now part of the high school varsity swim team. No one in our family has swam competitively although we all love water. His daily swim workout is grueling. I am actually shocked over what it entails. Its not just the afternoon swimming but the 6am stuff that is required. It will be very exciting to watch Cameron improve as he goes and he is excited to see what he is capable of. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realize it is only the beginning of the season but I am already impressed with the program. These guys hit the water as individuals but they stress the fact that this is a team sport. The boys are out there as a team and they are each other's support. They hold team building workshops and activities to help the boys bond. I can't say enough about how impressed I am. The kids have all played multiple sports and those teams have all been fun but I have "never" seen anything like this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So, this season begins with a weekend camping trip for the boys to all get to know each other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272020165174652530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SSn6aGnubnI/AAAAAAAABV0/oDwzNXikeGM/s800/11-22-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Cameron packed everything he needed and we headed to Camp Beechpoint.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272019680295909426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SSn594Tn-DI/AAAAAAAABVs/Zju4mxzVceA/s800/11-22-08-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;He had a lot of fun. The days were packed full of activities. As a matter of fact, he was pretty exhausted by the time he got home.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3820324508391581306?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3820324508391581306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3820324508391581306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3820324508391581306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3820324508391581306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/11/venturing-into-new-territory.html' title='Venturing into new territory'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SSn6aGnubnI/AAAAAAAABV0/oDwzNXikeGM/s72-c/11-22-08-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3334129609104784717</id><published>2008-11-23T11:18:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T12:04:13.918-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; would like to have more music added to his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;PSP&lt;/span&gt;. He has asked Cameron several times this morning about his favorite music and even wrote a note to Cam but Cam did not respond to him. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Triston's&lt;/span&gt; next idea was to search the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; for good music. He did a search under music videos and a U-tube video popped up. He comes running to tell me that this girl on U-tube just called him "hot stuff". What? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; proceeds to tell me, "yeah...she was sitting there, in a bikini, using her laptop" OMG&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3334129609104784717?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3334129609104784717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3334129609104784717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3334129609104784717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3334129609104784717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/11/hot-stuff.html' title='Hot Stuff'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-4844487959129310462</id><published>2008-11-11T21:43:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T22:02:03.623-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween Evening</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Terry went to Triston and Tara's school parties. They played games and ate (too much) junk food and was pretty much bouncing off the walls by the time I drove in the driveway. They were very excited and ready to go. Too bad I wasn't. First things first, I had to grab a camera.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267596799726185890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SRpDYWOp7aI/AAAAAAAABVE/uqZ8vM2ZjUg/s800/10-31-08-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;From left to right: Mason (Tara's boyfriend), Triston, Lane, and Tara. They are all best buds.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267597222369653522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SRpDw8stcxI/AAAAAAAABVM/dhZrwGO8MLw/s800/10-31-08-11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Now I see why the school doesn't allow plastic weapons ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I like to take a lot of pic's but really...how many different poses could I possibly get out of Triston. He's just a black phantom. So, this is it. Can you see him?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267598254692333506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SRpEtCZnd8I/AAAAAAAABVk/c9ABHHXFJ1I/s800/10-31-08-37.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I think I will bribe Triston with money next year to get him to be something cute or nice.&lt;br /&gt;Tara didn't have many options, she has a natural pirate mouth, hence, the missing teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267597794483730722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SRpESP_VeSI/AAAAAAAABVU/0qN9f8s2o2g/s800/10-31-08-23.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I'm just kidding. She actually picked out her own outfit but after seeing her toothless smile, I knew it couldn't be more fitting. Maybe the Association of Dentist would be interested in the next pic. They can show this as a reason "not" to eat candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267598052862156914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SRpEhShjYHI/AAAAAAAABVc/O64413pzZks/s800/10-31-08-30.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Hope everyone had a fun Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-4844487959129310462?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/4844487959129310462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=4844487959129310462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/4844487959129310462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/4844487959129310462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/11/halloween-evening.html' title='Halloween Evening'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SRpDYWOp7aI/AAAAAAAABVE/uqZ8vM2ZjUg/s72-c/10-31-08-4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7055482439150841157</id><published>2008-11-01T10:39:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T10:58:33.412-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Walk In The Woods</title><content type='html'>Our family has always been big on nature. We enjoy exploring the world around us. Last Saturday, when we were out pumpkin shopping, we decided to make a stop to stretch our legs. Actually, it was more like...Tara and Triston seemed to be bouncing off the walls with energy and needed to be let out of their seat belts for a little bit. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We walked down a trail in a wooded area to see what we could see. Tara collected a few things. She really liked this acorn.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263700863886218866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxsDCPa1nI/AAAAAAAABUs/PjYC9tCbT-o/s800/10-26-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Triston walks along and is so calm. He just takes in the scenery.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263702713043762754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxtuq47vkI/AAAAAAAABU0/lL1Q0L4r1aQ/s800/10-26-08-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Tara, on the other hand, bounces around skipping and singing.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263703008042316770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxt_12Ec-I/AAAAAAAABU8/Y34LMkFp-GY/s800/10-26-08-11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the moments when they can be themselves with no TV, video games, toys, etc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7055482439150841157?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7055482439150841157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7055482439150841157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7055482439150841157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7055482439150841157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/11/walk-in-woods.html' title='A Walk In The Woods'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxsDCPa1nI/AAAAAAAABUs/PjYC9tCbT-o/s72-c/10-26-08-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8332521423238073347</id><published>2008-10-31T09:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T12:31:22.616-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pumpkins</title><content type='html'>So now that I am back to work, my time is very limited. I worry about the transition for my kids. They are used to having me available at any time so now I am having to plan our free time very carefully. The weekend before Halloween, I knew would be filled with everything we had to do to get ready for Halloween. On Saturday, the 26th, we ventured out to find some pumpkins. We ended up buying some in Holland. My kids are so funny. Tara right away picks hers out but Triston examined every pumpkin in sight over and over. He even mentioned that we should check out another place and if he didn't like anything there than we could come back. We finally told him that he needed to make a choice or we wouldn't have time to carve them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we arrive home, we gather all the carving supplies and head to the table. Triston then has an idea. He wants to weigh each pumpkin before and after and create a chart of their weights. (He's soooo scientific) Triston gathers his materials for the chart while Tara runs to get the scale in the upstairs bathroom. He records the beginning weights at 12.2 for Triston's pumpkin and 17.0 for Tara's pumpkin. Then he forms his hypothesis: &lt;em&gt;Because Tara's pumpkin weighs more, it will have more on the inside and once removed, it will lose more weight&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, the pumpkin creativity begins:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does that feel Triston?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263683146514114722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxb7v4vKKI/AAAAAAAABUE/7MvKVjFKQ-E/s800/10-26-08-27.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Ewwweeee&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263687832035522514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxgMe0F99I/AAAAAAAABUc/VJ_sT1dCq-I/s800/10-26-08-31.jpg" border="0" /&gt; It didn't take long for them to just dig right in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263689493225289634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 534px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 800px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxhtLOmN6I/AAAAAAAABUk/wDHgPoMjcfo/s800/10-26-08-24.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Notice her knees? She was making a Great Wall of China with her pumpkin goo but she went from sitting in a chair to standing on the chair and before long she was on top of the table.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263686321021019922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxe0h2KZxI/AAAAAAAABUU/AnPH0515a50/s800/10-26-08-39.jpg" border="0" /&gt; The end result...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263681207409039330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxaK4KD1-I/AAAAAAAABT8/Zb9D-W4LSAs/s800/10-26-08-48.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before they would put their pumpkins outside, they had to take their final weights. At this time, Tara's weighed 13.4lbs. and Triston's weighed 10.4lbs. Triston was excited to tell Tara that her pumpkin was "the biggest loser" (like the TV show). Tara started crying because she thought Triston was calling her pumpkin a loser. He had to explain to her that it was a good thing, because she is the winner because her pumpkin lost the most weight. It took a little bit for her to understand.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263683243356906066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 800px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 534px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxcBYp24lI/AAAAAAAABUM/WKoaBNjo678/s800/10-26-08-47.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Yeap...that's my scale covered in pumpkin goo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8332521423238073347?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8332521423238073347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8332521423238073347' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8332521423238073347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8332521423238073347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/11/trying-to-stay-ahead-of-game.html' title='Pumpkins'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SQxb7v4vKKI/AAAAAAAABUE/7MvKVjFKQ-E/s72-c/10-26-08-27.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7591176738241442155</id><published>2008-10-30T20:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T21:33:49.748-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Girls Have To Shop"</title><content type='html'>We were on our way to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Otsego&lt;/span&gt; tonight to pick up some last minute Halloween stuff when Tara started talking about money. Me and Tara talked while Cameron drove us. It was the three of us in the truck. Cameron started in on me asking for money because he is going to a Halloween party tomorrow. After that argument, Tara started it. She tells me that she has 11 dollars and 14 cents and wants to trade it to me for a 20. I explained to her that I wouldn't trade a 20 for anything less than a 20. This made her upset. She goes on about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; having money. Tara says "Well, why does &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; have $56, that's not fair. I don't have $56 and I want $56 not $11 and 14 cents". I had to explain to her that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; never spends his money he saves every penny he gets. I told her that he has only made one purchase this year and that was for a pair of handcuffs that only cost around $2. It took him nearly a month to actually make the purchase because he doesn't want to spend money. Tara became even more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;agitated&lt;/span&gt;. She says to me "I'm a girl and girls have to shop. This is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;awful&lt;/span&gt; because I am a girl and I will never be able to save money". Oh my, Cam and I were cracking up. Cam had to jump in and explain his situation. He's a boy and he spends his money as fast as he gets it. He had a total of $5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor, poor Tara. She's a girl and will never have money because of her overwhelming desire to shop :0&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7591176738241442155?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7591176738241442155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7591176738241442155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7591176738241442155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7591176738241442155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/10/girls-have-to-shop.html' title='&quot;Girls Have To Shop&quot;'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6177248213712918193</id><published>2008-10-19T16:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T17:18:07.674-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Haunted Maze</title><content type='html'>Terry and I took the kids to the Haunted Corn Maze. We went along with a bunch of other people from our town including a bunch of teenagers. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and Tara walked into the area all tough and ready. They kept talking about the glow sticks that we are given for the walk. If you want to be really scared you get a green stick and if you are a little unsure, you should take the pink one. With the pink one, you will see the monsters and such but they will not actually touch you and the entire experience will be less terrifying. So anyways, all day and all the way there they are determined that they want green sticks. I knew better and requested all pink sticks. The teenagers and everyone else except Lorrie, who was stuck with us, chose the green sticks. We went in with groups of 4 or 5. I was in a group with Terry, Tara, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt;, and Lorrie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right before we went in, we could here some of our teenagers screaming. They were only in the maze for about 2 minutes and seemed to soon for such a major scare. The gentleman helping us with our sticks looked a little concerned and decided to walk in the maze to check on the kids. He found them a few feet into the maze in a pile. They spooked themselves and one fell on another and before you knew it, they were all on top of each other. Sounds really funny but Taylor did get hurt pretty bad. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Someone's&lt;/span&gt; knee hit her in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that was cleared up, it was our turn. Good thing I insisted on the pink sticks because both &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and Tara started panicking even before we stepped into the corn. Tara was the most hysterical. She held onto both me and Lorrie. She held us very close. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; held my other hand but stood right in front of me and very close. Tara made her dad go in front. This was a very difficult walk. We were stepping on unsteady ground with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;occassional&lt;/span&gt; cob on the ground and we had to walk sideways because it wasn't wide enough to hang onto the kids and walk side by side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Terry screamed once when a head fell from above and right in front of him. Monsters looked at us and at one point, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; says to me, "Mom, that one is following us" and that scared him really bad. Because we had the pink stick, most of them let us just walk on by. One of the monsters didn't notice we had pink and he jumped out at us and Tara screamed and jumped. Her entire body trembled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention that Tara began crying as we entered the maze and didn't stop the entire time? I once said to her "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Shhh&lt;/span&gt;, we are almost done, please stop crying" and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; immediately spoke up, "No Tara, don't stop crying, I think it's helping them not scare us so bad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an experience and I am so glad Lorrie got to experience it with us. Yeah, and, thanks for your help Lorrie! Not sure if we would have made it through without you :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our way home we talked about the maze. I asked them if they would want to do it again next year and Tara said Maybe but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; said no way. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; said "It's overrated." We all laughed. The teenagers talk about this scary stuff all the time. They think its great. My little ones want to be a part of anything the teenagers do but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; now thinks that some of their stories are way overrated and he will no longer think that they know everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6177248213712918193?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6177248213712918193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6177248213712918193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6177248213712918193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6177248213712918193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/10/haunted-maze.html' title='The Haunted Maze'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3548184818174438476</id><published>2008-10-19T16:18:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T10:15:48.507-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Senior Session</title><content type='html'>I did two different sessions for my niece, who is a senior. For the first day, we just hung around town. We only had around an hour before dark so we were really limited with possiblities. Here are a couple from that day.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258962571454095090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SPuWmHaYnvI/AAAAAAAABTU/pcygyf4ScN8/s800/10-11-08-13.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258962741514237282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SPuWwA74dWI/AAAAAAAABTc/dNUILvZvV98/s800/10-11-08-36.jpg" border="0" /&gt;We had plenty of time on the second session. We hit Lake Michigan and drove around for some other spots. This was the most fun. Makes me want to do another session. I have been trying to get a hold of my other senior that I did previously, I want to get her out to some other locations. I think she will really like the variety and the hip locations. Here are a few more of Kris's.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258965227501866322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SPuZAt9hTVI/AAAAAAAABTk/Ak7MGmpJxNE/s800/10-13-08-21.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258965483403082642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SPuZPnRH-5I/AAAAAAAABTs/WNVIM4EB6z0/s800/10-13-08-36.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258965623855460098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SPuZXyflLwI/AAAAAAAABT0/E_7sVQ6K_zc/s800/10-13-08-39.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3548184818174438476?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3548184818174438476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3548184818174438476' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3548184818174438476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3548184818174438476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/10/another-senior-session.html' title='Another Senior Session'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SPuWmHaYnvI/AAAAAAAABTU/pcygyf4ScN8/s72-c/10-11-08-13.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-469960343417271436</id><published>2008-10-09T19:22:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T20:24:11.061-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Archery Lessons</title><content type='html'>Terry has been working with Triston and Tara on shooting their bows. Terry actually hunts with his bow and does really well. He is able to use his bow for hunting because his draw is stronger. Neither Triston or Tara are able to actually hunt with theirs. Triston will be old enough next year but he still doesn't have the strength. He does have his accuracy down though. Check him out.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255306992084660098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO6Z3ZDVL4I/AAAAAAAABSk/ApoUagGncC8/s800/10-4-08-66.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Triston is steady and is able to hit the target every time. He is able to hold the string back and steady his arm. He doesn't shake or move which is hard because it takes a lot of strength to hold that. Also, most hunters have a release for holding and releasing the string to improve accuracy but Triston was doing his bare fingered. Check out his best shot (by the way, he made the target himself).&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255309365152666610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO6cBha1U_I/AAAAAAAABSs/VD4Lw7CEz-Q/s800/10-4-08-75.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;That really is amazing. Triston loves shooting and is really good at it. They do have archery competition's at certain times of the year. I bet Triston could do really well against other kids his age.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then there is Tara. Can you see the frustration on their faces? Her arrows wouldn't even hit the bails of hay in the beginning. As a matter of fact, we had to climb the fence to locate one arrow that finally stopped in the neighbors backyard. Terry got right down on her level. He looked everything over, watched her technique, actually tried shooting the bow himself to make sure nothing was wrong with it but nothing seemed to help.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255312036124848050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO6ec_kOb7I/AAAAAAAABTE/RJHeTa7pyIc/s800/10-4-08-50.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I know its hard to see but there is a little orange lighted tip on the pin located in the center of the bow. From Tara's view you would line that tip along with the arrow and aim it on the target. Sounds simple, right?&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255311421232675346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO6d5M6gehI/AAAAAAAABS8/9AEeD2XqzPU/s800/10-4-08-79.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Not when you are right handed but left eye dominate. So yeah, we finally figured it out. This makes things more complicated for all aiming types of sports. Because she is still young, we may be able to try and train her right eye but that can be hard. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255310964101444818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO6del97dNI/AAAAAAAABS0/FDcpmg3Pv1w/s800/10-4-08-61.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;She persistently used her left eye no matter what we told her. It felt natural to her and that's what felt right but her arrows didn't agree. Towards the end of the night she did manage to hit the paper :) &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255313913890050626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO6gKSyVkkI/AAAAAAAABTM/wDT8PikqnGA/s800/10-4-08-81.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-469960343417271436?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/469960343417271436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=469960343417271436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/469960343417271436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/469960343417271436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/10/archery-lessons.html' title='Archery Lessons'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO6Z3ZDVL4I/AAAAAAAABSk/ApoUagGncC8/s72-c/10-4-08-66.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7166584157063295326</id><published>2008-10-09T17:54:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T18:11:22.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Senior Session</title><content type='html'>I had the opportunity to practice on a senior. We spent some time out to a friends home for these pic's. Their yard is full of lots of antique and country type scenery. Her parents really wanted to have her pictures done there. I normally shoot in an urban style so I plan on borrowing her real soon and hitting some of my favorite urban spots. Here are a couple of my favorites from the other day.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255277217286576914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO5-yRSR2xI/AAAAAAAABR8/ApHCC9bKAuU/s800/10-6-08-64.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255277320374519714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO5-4RUXB6I/AAAAAAAABSE/QZ7y4ioIhJM/s800/10-6-08-87.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Is it me or does she look a little like Tara?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7166584157063295326?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7166584157063295326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7166584157063295326' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7166584157063295326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7166584157063295326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/10/senior-session.html' title='Senior Session'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SO5-yRSR2xI/AAAAAAAABR8/ApHCC9bKAuU/s72-c/10-6-08-64.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-3178546533924135136</id><published>2008-09-28T20:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T20:56:57.773-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Homecoming</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;No girlfriend, no plans. So that's how Cameron approached the night of Homecoming. He went to the football game and I picked him up along with his friend Chris right after the game. We pulled in back at home and immediately noticed all of the teenage girls running from accross the street (where their hair was being done) back to Lorrie's. Cam and Chris went right up to his room. It was only a few minutes later when Taylor went right up the stairs and into Cam's room to tell them that they are going to the dance with them. I didn't hear too much protesting going on. Before long, Cam presented himself in an outfit that he grew out of. It was from last year. This was just going to have to do because, he never made plans to buy anything else. Shoot, I didn't think he was going to the dance. Chris had the same problem. He scooted next door and found himself an outfit in Steven's closet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did manage to get a few pic's. They are not the best but I had dead batteries in my flash and it was very dark out. I didn't know that I would be taking pictures or I would have been prepared. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251239313902026578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SOAmVW-yP1I/AAAAAAAABR0/r5IT2Oc114c/s800/9-26-08-8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I think he was a little worried that all those girls were going to kiss him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-3178546533924135136?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/3178546533924135136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=3178546533924135136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3178546533924135136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/3178546533924135136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/homecoming.html' title='Homecoming'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SOAmVW-yP1I/AAAAAAAABR0/r5IT2Oc114c/s72-c/9-26-08-8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-4398757362585479803</id><published>2008-09-23T20:56:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T21:07:45.823-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom...Do you notice anything different?</title><content type='html'>Umm...hmm...what is different? Don't tell me, I can figure this one out. Let's see, she came to me running (something important), she's holding something in her hand (it could be a clue), the item is small (definitely a clue), she is smiling like crazy (it has made her happy). Don't tell me yet, I can do it...um...hm...OH..."Tara, you pulled your tooth out!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;To me, it's as gross as anything. To her, it means money in her pocket. Remember, this is the child that expressed to me that pulling teeth is way easier than cleaning her bedroom for money. Well I guess, by the looks of her mouth, she definitely has been getting her share of the income. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Tara, you are just plain crazy, girl."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249387582008564370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SNmSMYH3mpI/AAAAAAAABRs/nw3uVREMa2A/s800/9-23-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-4398757362585479803?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/4398757362585479803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=4398757362585479803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/4398757362585479803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/4398757362585479803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/momdo-you-notice-anything-different.html' title='Mom...Do you notice anything different?'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SNmSMYH3mpI/AAAAAAAABRs/nw3uVREMa2A/s72-c/9-23-08-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6207535563266134460</id><published>2008-09-20T20:44:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T21:18:49.072-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Today's Soccer Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SNWe-BuGLkI/AAAAAAAABRk/z_W5svP9Jn0/s1600-h/9-20-08-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248275729221037634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SNWe-BuGLkI/AAAAAAAABRk/z_W5svP9Jn0/s800/9-20-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a proud momma. My daughter is only six years old but has amazing drive and athletic ability. She is great at everything that she has ever tried and soccer is no exception. Here are some of my favorite pic's from today's game. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;She was the goalie for the first half of the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248274309968562850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SNWdral8CqI/AAAAAAAABRU/KaE64YqDI1s/s800/9-20-08-11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;She started off the second half of the game with a kick from center field.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248275261862681362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SNWei0rLmxI/AAAAAAAABRc/JS4a6JuhyOI/s800/9-20-08-20.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Then she was off and running. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248270366002393042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SNWaF2LIL9I/AAAAAAAABRM/aiN-B7dF-Do/s800/9-20-08-21.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She played awesome and she loves soccer. Also, all the previous problems seemed to be solved. Tara was tripped and kicked several times during the game and she never once plotted her revenge. She now realizes that it's all just part of the game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6207535563266134460?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6207535563266134460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6207535563266134460' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6207535563266134460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6207535563266134460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/todays-soccer-game.html' title='Today&apos;s Soccer Game'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SNWe-BuGLkI/AAAAAAAABRk/z_W5svP9Jn0/s72-c/9-20-08-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5398170481587754652</id><published>2008-09-20T20:06:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T12:03:08.234-04:00</updated><title type='text'>***News from the Bradshaw home***</title><content type='html'>Most everyone knew that I was looking for a job (outside of the home). I am officially a senior at the University and will complete my bachelor's degree this year. It has taken me longer than most but I am proud of my accomplishments this far. It wasn't easy. I juggled work with school all the while, taking care of my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tara entered 1st grade this year and that was my goal year to begin working outside of the home. I've been looking all summer and finally got an Accounting position at a "green plastic's corporation". This week was my first full time week and it went really well. I knew when I began looking that I wouldn't work for just anyone. It had to be big enough for me to climb the ladder, it had to be in accounting, and had to suit my ethical standard. This company is all that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the fun at home begins.&lt;br /&gt;Terry has brand new responsibilities. He has to take care of the kids from 3pm until 6pm. He is also in charge of dinner. My mom gets the kids breakfast and to school. She has them from 7am until 8am. So want to know about all the problems we encountered? A very crazy Monday: Tara helped me wrap up my lunch and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; put it in a lunch bag for me. How nice. They were so eager to help me get myself ready that morning. Cameron worked out a deal with the neighbor. He asked her to be outside at 7am to take my picture. He was trying to get me back for taking his picture on his first day of school. Since this was my first day of work, he wanted to mess with me. Too bad I got out of there before 7am. As soon as I left for work, Tara tried to convince Grandma that she could eat pudding for breakfast. Grandma knew better. Monday was also picture day at school so I got her dressed and did her hair but didn't think about shoes. She ended up going to school wearing a skirt and tennis shoes because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;no one&lt;/span&gt; could find the ones that matched her outfit. This was also the day that Cameron got in trouble by the police for playing in the flood water down and the park, after school. On Tuesday, Cameron had some trouble waking up. When he finally got up, he was panicking because his shoes were wet (wonder why?) and he had to dry them. He has another pair but those were in my van. So he was almost an hour late for school. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Wednesday&lt;/span&gt; wasn't too bad when compared to the beginning of the week. I was packing my lunch and looked over at Tara and she was on the verge of tears. She didn't want me to go to work. She needed me to be at home just in case anything happened. I reassured her that her Grandma's would be there anytime they needed. I also explained to her that I could buy her things because I would get a paycheck. I promised her a shopping trip. When Terry dressed her for soccer, he put her shin guards on top of her socks which the referee immediately made them fix. So, the coach had one leg and Terry the other while they did a speedy reversal. The coach told Tara not to let her dad dress her for school. Tara said she knew that already. Thursday, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and Tara couldn't find their backpacks. Come to find out, they were left in dad's truck so Grandma had to drive to Terry's work and get their backpacks. Friday was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. Grandma went to the pharmacy and filled Tara's allergy medication because I forgot, all week. Needless to say, because she didn't have it, I had to take her to the doctor Saturday because she has ear infections again and an upper respiratory infection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; all. With Terry in charge, he ended up shaving his own head (yikes) and also while I was working, he walked behind &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and let him mow the lawn with the riding lawn mower. I told him that was very dangerous. Between that and the hair do, I might need an afternoon sitter to keep an eye on the 3 kids and the husband :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5398170481587754652?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5398170481587754652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5398170481587754652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5398170481587754652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5398170481587754652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/news-from-bradshaw-home.html' title='***News from the Bradshaw home***'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-1802605387060610201</id><published>2008-09-13T19:16:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T19:30:22.289-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Backstage Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Lucky Cameron has been back stage to almost every fair event this year. His good friend Chris actually got him the passes and it didn't cost Cam anything. How lucky is that? He had a lot of fun watching the tractor pulls and the derby but for him, his biggest highlight was running around the fair with &lt;a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewProfile&amp;amp;friendID=8206623"&gt;Pop Evil&lt;/a&gt;. They are the band that opened for &lt;a href="http://www.daughtryofficial.com/"&gt;Daughtry&lt;/a&gt; and are from Grand Rapids, Michigan . Cam got a couple autographs and then followed them as they jumped on some rides. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Too bad this one won't last past his next shower.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245650684771029282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SMxLgVGP0SI/AAAAAAAABQ8/E1Ef8_UNNk8/s800/9-12-08-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Cam put clear shipping tape over the autograph on his cell phone in hopes that it will last longer.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245650784308152978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SMxLmH5vypI/AAAAAAAABRE/u99YI0gu7LY/s800/9-12-08-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-1802605387060610201?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/1802605387060610201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=1802605387060610201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1802605387060610201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/1802605387060610201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/backstage-again.html' title='Backstage Again'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SMxLgVGP0SI/AAAAAAAABQ8/E1Ef8_UNNk8/s72-c/9-12-08-3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-7393256552475951692</id><published>2008-09-08T20:56:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T21:22:43.999-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blackmail</title><content type='html'>Tara and I were working on her homework and it wasn't going so well. She is very hard on herself and was getting very frustrated. She finally said that she wanted to go back to Kindergarten. She started crying over all of it. She wants to be the best and can't handle it when she has to struggle. I told her to go and take a break and we will work on it again later. So then she goes upstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, when Tara is mad, she thinks everyone should join her in being mad. She then immediately seeks out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to see what she can do to him to ruin his day. She catches him watching "Family Guy" which is a cartoon not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;meant&lt;/span&gt; for kids. I do not allow my kids to watch the show, I wish I could have it taken off the air but I am only one person. Instead, I lay the rules out at home and tell them that they are not allowed to watch it. I don't have a TV block or anything but maybe I should check into that. So anyways...Tara catches him and starts laying out her own demands on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and if he doesn't do what she wants, she tells him that she is going to tell me what he is doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon after, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; comes running to me crying like crazy. He is trying to tell me the whole story but I can barely understand because he is so frantic and crying. What he does say is that he keeps sneaking to watch Family Guy and Tara keeps telling him what to do or else she will tell and he keeps saying, over and over, that he is sick of it and can't take it anymore. First I want to yell at him for watching the stupid show but I feel bad that he feels so bad. And then there is Tara, she is always up to no good. I asked him if he was watching it and he replies, "I was, its off now." I explain to him that he is not allowed to watch it and he replies, "I know...but." Well then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, don't watch it, don't do stuff you are not supposed to and then your sister wouldn't be able to do that to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, we had to talk with both of them about what they are doing wrong. And later, as I think about this, I am shocked over both of them. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; was hysterical and who knows what all Tara has made him do or agree to just to keep himself out of trouble and the fact that he admitted to watching it more than once, why not stop after the first blackmail? Then there is Tara, why does she thrive on kayos?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-7393256552475951692?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/7393256552475951692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=7393256552475951692' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7393256552475951692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/7393256552475951692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/blackmail.html' title='Blackmail'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6540185098238653083</id><published>2008-09-05T13:54:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T14:11:11.091-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tara, how was school today?</title><content type='html'>Tara: Good.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Tell me about it.&lt;br /&gt;Tara: Oh...I was so embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Oh no, why?&lt;br /&gt;Tara: Well...Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Spicer&lt;/span&gt; asked me who I love best out of all of my friends in class and I said Jasper.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Huh...Jasper...from preschool?&lt;br /&gt;Tara: Yeah&lt;br /&gt;Mom: The same Jasper that told your dad that he was going to marry you?&lt;br /&gt;Tara: &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Yeap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Oh.&lt;br /&gt;Tara: I said it in front of the whole class.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Oh, wow.&lt;br /&gt;Tara: I wasn't the only one embarrassed because that embarrassed Jasper too. Mom, he was sliding down in his chair and was falling under his desk. He was really embarrassed.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Really&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tara says what she means and means what she says and has never cared how it sounded to anyone else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6540185098238653083?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6540185098238653083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6540185098238653083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6540185098238653083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6540185098238653083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/how-was-school-today.html' title='Tara, how was school today?'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-834165338360286645</id><published>2008-09-04T23:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T14:38:35.259-04:00</updated><title type='text'>But it's cold outside</title><content type='html'>So it rained all day today and as soon as my kids got home from school they wanted to know if they could have some hot cocoa. This is a tradition that we started when they were young. They would go out and play in the snow and we would make hot cocoa for when they came in. They haven't asked for any all summer and just because we have one cool, rainy day, they think snow is on the way. Oh well. Hot cocoa it is.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242608442733945874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SMF8miWe5BI/AAAAAAAABQ0/LYBY-hVFaZc/s800/9-4-08-2-BW.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-834165338360286645?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/834165338360286645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=834165338360286645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/834165338360286645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/834165338360286645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/but-its-cold-outside.html' title='But it&apos;s cold outside'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SMF8miWe5BI/AAAAAAAABQ0/LYBY-hVFaZc/s72-c/9-4-08-2-BW.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-8953975924756015461</id><published>2008-09-03T23:10:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T00:22:00.396-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Soccer Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SL9iVfrPwdI/AAAAAAAABQc/E3OPbOkEz1c/s1600-h/8-27-08-7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242016612702208466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SL9iVfrPwdI/AAAAAAAABQc/E3OPbOkEz1c/s800/8-27-08-7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tara has been practicing with her soccer team these last couple of weeks. I noticed her having some issues with one of the girls on her team. Tara had this same girl in her dance class and she was always off doing her own thing and never paid attention then and it is the same thing all over again. Tara is really serious about soccer and she wants to be great at it but this girl is obviously irritating her. Right off the bat this evening the girl was running next to Tara and she tripped Tara. Of course she fell but jumped right back up but was mad. Then a little later when they were playing a game, Tara went over to that girl's ball and kicked it out of the area. Her way of getting revenge. That little girl went and got her ball and came back over to Tara and called her stupid and then stuck her tongue out at Tara. Tara then called her stupid back then turned around and walking away while getting in the word Brat. This was near the end and I was questioning Tara about what I observed and Tara explained everything to me but included a few more name calls. Tara says next time she starts her stuff she's just gonna push her down. I'm like...whoa, no you won't. I explained to Tara that she will be benched for stuff like that and she needs to learn how to co-exist with this girl. Tara then began walking to my van and she says, "&lt;em&gt;well... she obviously doesn't know who she's messing with&lt;/em&gt;." Probably the wrong thing to do but we were all laughing. Maybe word has gotten out on our side of town but hmm this girl probably hasn't been warned. Just kidding. My boys have never acted like that, I'm just a little shocked at her whole attitude. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, by the way, if I was Tara I would be just as mad. It is crazy when the coach has to repeat himself to her and all players are forced to wait while she finishes whatever she was not supposed to be doing. The girls have been doing different lessons and it doesn't matter who this girl is teamed with she won't cooperate. She won't pass the ball and she is always shoving and tripping the girls. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-8953975924756015461?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/8953975924756015461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=8953975924756015461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8953975924756015461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/8953975924756015461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/soccer-time.html' title='Soccer Time'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SL9iVfrPwdI/AAAAAAAABQc/E3OPbOkEz1c/s72-c/8-27-08-7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-4919906045851429920</id><published>2008-09-02T09:12:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T09:39:20.297-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of School</title><content type='html'>Wow, this was a crazy morning. Tara was up by 6:30am and very excited to get to school. She wanted to go right then and got mad at me because she didn't want to be late for her first day. Although she was up early, she was no where near ready. This actually took the rest of the morning. She couldn't decide on what to wear. Nothing matched her shoes properly. She didn't want to wear any shoes that would flip off because she wouldn't be able to push her friends on the tire swing. She refused socks until I told her that she is guaranteed another blister (like last week). Triston got right up, got dressed, wet his hair down and was ready to go. No problems, no arguments. I snapped a few pic's before we left.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241415411354464882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SL0_i-IKcnI/AAAAAAAABP0/gTILvE0dmc0/s800/9-2-08-4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241415883701717218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SL0_-dwhiOI/AAAAAAAABQE/wDDLeIeGYzc/s800/9-2-08-7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241415545306437970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SL0_qxIzWVI/AAAAAAAABP8/HCsCdr1cBg0/s800/9-2-08-5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;And there they go.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241416326733840866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SL1AYQLnQeI/AAAAAAAABQM/aUnxm4EvtPk/s800/9-2-08-11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I did go with them to their rooms. It was busy through the halls and we had to stop and pay for lunch. By the time we made it to their rooms, everyone else was already at their desk. Triston went to his room first. He knows exactly what to do and what is expected of him so he was rather easy to get settled in. Tara, on the other hand, looked nervous and on the verge of tears. I stood outside her classroom for a bit but when I noticed her nervousness turn to being scared and her face looked as if she would cry any minute, I decided I better get out of there because, if she cry's, I cry. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now I am sitting at my desk and typing out this blog. It's only 9am. Terry called to see how the morning went. Jamie stopped by to chat for a minute. Now I am all alone for the first time in 15 years. This is the weirdest feeling ever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-4919906045851429920?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/4919906045851429920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=4919906045851429920' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/4919906045851429920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/4919906045851429920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/first-day-of-school.html' title='First Day of School'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SL0_i-IKcnI/AAAAAAAABP0/gTILvE0dmc0/s72-c/9-2-08-4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-6357011630312714377</id><published>2008-09-02T00:46:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T01:17:15.880-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Night Before School Starts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Although it was Labor Day, there was still a lot to do. I took the time to cut Cam and Steven's hair. I really wanted to have Tammi do it but we just ran out of time so they were stuck with me. We also packed their backpacks with all of their new school supplies and filled out those pesky emergency cards and other vital paperwork. Then it was off for one last play. The big boys did their normal pool races. Cam and Bryon will be on Allegan's Swim Team this winter and they are trying hard to talk Steven into it. Ever since Michael Phelps brought home several gold medals, these guys have been doing their own training. Because our pool is not a traditional competition pool, they used the garden hose for a dividing line for their lanes.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241288606635992418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzMN9vXJWI/AAAAAAAABPs/ctMasvgJt2o/s800/9-1-08-35.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Cameron is an excellent swimmer. I can't wait to see him compete.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241284487034593746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzIeLB2YdI/AAAAAAAABPE/9ZZ7OHbkIPU/s800/9-1-08-41.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Triston did some swimming too but he thought it would be fun to pull himself across the pool with the hose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241285164708808354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzJFnj-RqI/AAAAAAAABPM/DrSEujMiL20/s800/9-1-08-50.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Then he decided to go get his cut hair and play with that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241286315726916754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzKIncEzJI/AAAAAAAABPc/SXmzEfCIBn0/s800/9-1-08-17.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Makes me wonder why I ever buy them toys, they would rather play with garden hoses and hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241286252251569154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzKE6-X3AI/AAAAAAAABPU/I5BO-ys99sA/s800/9-1-08-14.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Tara only swam for a little bit because she is dealing with ear infections again. She ended up bringing out her naked Barbie's and playing with them on the deck.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241287224781025442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzK9h7dsKI/AAAAAAAABPk/T8ep0ILXQ3U/s800/9-1-08-44.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Now it's off to bed. Tomorrow is a big day ;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-6357011630312714377?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/6357011630312714377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=6357011630312714377' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6357011630312714377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/6357011630312714377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/night-before-school-starts.html' title='Night Before School Starts'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzMN9vXJWI/AAAAAAAABPs/ctMasvgJt2o/s72-c/9-1-08-35.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792790704583466675.post-5204388156783741948</id><published>2008-09-02T00:27:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T00:42:45.271-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Open House</title><content type='html'>We attended the open house for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Triston&lt;/span&gt; and Tara. We were really rushed because we had to be at soccer within the half hour. We found both of their classrooms and their lockers. The kids were very excited to find their desk and look at all the books they would begin with this year. We chatted briefly with a few teachers while Triston explained everything to Tara. He was showing her where the lunch information would be and how they get to decide on lunch A or lunch B. He told her about the lessons that she will learn. He was really excited to explain the money lesson to her (i think that was his favorite). In the picture below, he is showing her how to open her desk. He is a very helpful child.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241278173798444482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzCusZDrcI/AAAAAAAABO0/osbib-dvWPU/s800/8-27-08-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;This is an even bigger change for Tara because she will be at school all day for the first time. She is happy that she will get to eat lunch at school, have two recesses, and the fact that she has a locker and a desk this year. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241278091743542818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzCp6tpPiI/AAAAAAAABOs/MvYhaXpP2lM/s800/8-27-08-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;For me, this is really weird. Tara is my youngest and for most of my adult life I have had a child at home with me for the entire day. I have decided that it is the right time to go to work outside of the home but just the fact that my kids are growing up is hitting me hard right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792790704583466675-5204388156783741948?l=marciabradshaw.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/feeds/5204388156783741948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792790704583466675&amp;postID=5204388156783741948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5204388156783741948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792790704583466675/posts/default/5204388156783741948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciabradshaw.blogspot.com/2008/09/open-house.html' title='Open House'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00410905684800615791</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fc9NR4QfT3g/SLzCusZDrcI/AAAAAAAABO0/osbib-dvWPU/s72-c/8-27-08-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
