tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23537144376350799952024-03-12T15:59:10.615-07:00Ramblings of a Stay At Home MomI am a stay at home mom, a wife, a student and a twenty-something. These are my ramblings on the good, the bad and the ugly and the very funny that I encounter in a days work. I hope you enjoy!KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-3777499739041516502012-09-14T06:33:00.002-07:002012-09-14T06:33:42.691-07:00When is it okay to ask a woman if she is pregnant?Question: When is it okay to ask a woman if she is pregnant?<br />
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Answer: When there is a baby head sticking out of her vagina.<br />
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If any of you can remember this far back, I once wrote about my battle with back fat. Sadly, my glutenous winter did not end just because it was bikini season. I have indulged myself on iced coffees and more hundred calorie packs then I know what to do with. I have put on a FEW pounds, and by a few I mean thirty--shh don't tell! It has been brought to my attention by my husband that he has been questioned time and time again during this past year on whether or not I am pregnant. The answer to this is no and quite frankly eff you! (Notice I was classy this time and didn't say 'fuck'--oops) I have watched my weight my entire life and I am just plain sick of it. My husband eats a bagel every day of his life and I have to have a banana so that no body wonders if I'm carrying a two year old fetus inside me. It is only okay to ask a woman if she is pregnant if you can reach down and shake hands with her unborn child. If there is even the tiniest doubt in your mind, shut your face! I have thought long and hard about what to do about this and I have decided that I will have a shirt made that reads "Not pregnant, just fat" just to clear things up for those around me that may be confused by my slightly protruding belly. There is no baby in there, just a bowl of Special K and half a package of extra sharp cheddar cheese wedges. Happy Friday!<br />
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KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-60022720707535158642012-09-13T13:22:00.002-07:002012-09-13T13:22:31.859-07:00Come Home & Smell the Cookies!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As the school year approached I forced myself to get organized and set up a game plan for the back to school season. I envisioned home cooked meals, smiling faces and the smell of fresh baked cookies upon the boys' arrival home each day. What I ended up with was a stack of homework, a sink full of cereal bowls and a serious addiction to day time reality television re-runs. If my mother is reading this she is thinking something to the effect of "I had four of you, how did I do it?" Well you know what mom, I concede, you a far better woman than myself. You raised four kids and did it with a clean house, but I challenge you to a Keeping Up With the Kardashians or Teen Mom trivia game and I will wipe the floor with you! And isn't that what's really important in life? Being able to hold your own during a heated debate about whether or not Kim's ass is real or if Butch and April should give it one last college try? So from where I'm standing, you, mom, are the one that needs to get her shit together. Which Real Housewife from New Jersey would you kick off your ficticious survivor island first? Do you think Amber from Teen Mom will ever get her shit together and stop beating Gary? Riddle me that! But you can't can you because you have no clue what I'm talking about...but your floors are clean enough to eat off of...that's cool! And by cool I mean lame! :) Talk to you soon mommy! :)KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-71639012509549487832012-09-12T15:26:00.001-07:002012-09-12T15:26:14.031-07:00Kindergarten: The triumphs and the tearsMy first born started Kindergarten last week, while my second son started pre-school and as the school bus pulled away and the tears welled up in my eyes I was faced with a new challenge as a stay at home mom...what the --pardon my language-- FUCK am I supposed to do with all my free time? Clean the house? Tackle a couple mounds of laundry? Scrub the toilet? Pardon my language again, but fuck that! I have been slave to children for five years now and I just got my first taste of freedom. I am not spending it waxing the floors. The house might be a little messy, but the woman in the house is happy as a pig in shit because she gets to lounge in her husbands new "football room" while watching the Kardashians, in her pajamas, until noon. I'm walking on freakin' sunshine right now! But let's try to be reasonable! I can't just sit around in that big comfy arm chair, wrapped in a blanket all day, everyday. At some point I will need to be productive. Basically, I need to find a hobby. So I turn to you! What are your hobbies? What do you do with your "free time," if you have any. I will be blogging a lot again now that I have all this time on my hands so I want to here from people. <br />
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I hope everyone had a great first week back to school and will talk to you soon! :)<br />
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KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-38973288444507782482012-02-14T06:51:00.000-08:002012-02-14T06:51:20.978-08:00Hello Hello and Happy Valentine's Day!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVE3HOCqw8CoHNjLDgv5FTJd4MxNgU4sLwUsXOEpXK7XmR31PAtwNn8jy6G-zRKS59ZXDFi-On_b9XvyeFMRmGi_6z04rW7dx-K6-eD1R4fR9QsDtNnGlaz8UCe1BVNI6elP_ZFHlP2k/s1600/an1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVE3HOCqw8CoHNjLDgv5FTJd4MxNgU4sLwUsXOEpXK7XmR31PAtwNn8jy6G-zRKS59ZXDFi-On_b9XvyeFMRmGi_6z04rW7dx-K6-eD1R4fR9QsDtNnGlaz8UCe1BVNI6elP_ZFHlP2k/s320/an1.jpg" width="237" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My oldest Valentine is at Costco, the next in line is at school and the youngest is downstairs taking a nap with chocolate smeared all over his little face. So it seems just as good a time as any to hop back into things! I am finishing my last course to complete my BA this semester and am on the job search grind, which has so far led me...nowhere. Luckily, I still have the entertaining antics of my children to keep me on my toes during this slow period in my life. Yesterday my older son, dressed as Superman or as he now likes to be called "Super Aidan" told me he was going to laser me and serve me with a nice Cianti. If you notice that the last word there is probably spelt incorrectly. This is because I have no idea how to spell it, pronounce it or define exactly what it is, but not to worry because apparently my 4 year old does. He has never seen "Silence of the Lambs" so I am unsure where the heck he learned this word, but whatev, the boy is a genius and I'd rather not question his obviously in depth learning styles. As for my youngest...he has turned into a monster. The terrible two's are in full swing and there has been lots of biting, hitting, crying and whining on his part and a lot of crying and "wining" on my part as well. While my older son has decided that he was destined to be a super hero, my youngest has decided that he is part hedgehog (like Sonic) and he feels it necessary to show off his super speed at all times of the day. The only problem here is that he sadly inherited my husband's klutz gene so his super speed usually ends with him flat on his face and more crying ensues. It's enough to drive a mama to.....desperately try to find a job. BTW Anyone want to hire me? I am PATIENT, driven and will do just about anything to get out of my house. At this point money may not even be an issue...will work for free!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What are you kids pretending to be these days?</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-39556868135646014002011-12-14T08:06:00.000-08:002011-12-14T08:08:50.362-08:00Honey, I'm Hoooooooooooome!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgER-h5p2OTBaaKApOvi_041hoc92PKlsjaFzuVoB1end-LQddZ4Edg4WPhENqBicm0KrfWDXRz6UiPPTZuX5iy5jhJCNg8LYArKfvmmwx636bbED220iw7SwZocK4ERB64nSIbUfLDcaE/s1600/DSC_5942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgER-h5p2OTBaaKApOvi_041hoc92PKlsjaFzuVoB1end-LQddZ4Edg4WPhENqBicm0KrfWDXRz6UiPPTZuX5iy5jhJCNg8LYArKfvmmwx636bbED220iw7SwZocK4ERB64nSIbUfLDcaE/s320/DSC_5942.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Haven't blogged in a looong time! I apologize, but I bit off a little more then I could chew this semester and the blog had to take a backseat BUT on the plus side now I have months worth of material to share with you all! So this was my first semester back in school since I had my son 3 years ago. So naturally I decided to go big or go home and registered for 4 classes and took on two internships. Way to ease into things Kristina! Now if you were reading my blog in the Fall then you already know that I have a serious problem with becoming easily overwhelmed and sweating like a Christmas ham under pressure so yes it is safe to say that I have bought stock in extra strength deodorant and have dealt with swamp ass issues often. It wasn't pretty, but I made it out alive and guess what? After busting my behind for four months the best news is that I am still unemployed so I will have plenty of time to dedicate to my blog again : / .So since I have been so busy lately it seems that my personal life has taken a drastic turn for the worse. For instance I am sitting at my desk right now writing and listening to Dave Matthews on Pandora. I am wearing a tie-dye T-shirt, velour pants and a robe. My hair is a mess and I have not yet brushed my teeth. There is a McDonald's cup on the desk, a red cup half full of Lucky Charms and a bowl of fruity pebbles on the floor. What is that not wear you eat your breakfast? Basically I have transformed into a dirty hippie, although a slightly more educated one. And if anyone has been following my facebook updates they also know that I have taken a liking to destressing with Cheeseburgers and Domino's pizza. I promise I will get my shit together as soon as finals are over...maybe. <br />
I tried to get really motivated the other day and took my kids to FAO Swartz in NYC on a Saturday thinking that I was such a cool mom for my adventurousness and spontaneity. What I actually ended up being was an asshole with two out of control kids trying to climb through the dividing window in the cab. This was by far one of the more embarrassing trips with my children. The cab driver shook his head in disgust but what was I supposed to do? If I start screaming I look nuts. If I beat them in the cab I go to jail. If I do nothing I look like I don't care. What I wanted to do was cry my freaking eyes out...or maybe jump out of the taxi and leave the boys to find their own way home. After a two hour trip back home I put the boys to bed and drank a glass...or two...okay the whole bottle...of wine. After that I went back to thinking of what a cool mom I am for taking my kids on this trip, but I have already made all of my friends and family promise to slap me if I ever decide to take these monsters into the city by myself again. They would have had almost as much fun in Toys R Us in Bay shore and I wouldn't have wanted to poke my eyes out. Oh well, as usual, the moral of the story is you live, you learn.KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-41469240967761112242011-10-24T05:46:00.000-07:002011-10-24T05:46:07.248-07:00Like Mother Like Daughter<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-XErwBBSkY6r3q1oICvXkEXE9r3Uk8N6dpUiYucHwrGnHIfM5qmy7znUrX6siupv6CecQ1KP3PYeNhWKRLGdV77rIHSHlld_n1rG1ZNTbBcoqOaDF0eCddde7VSK77NRu2T7ecK72Y8/s1600/log.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-XErwBBSkY6r3q1oICvXkEXE9r3Uk8N6dpUiYucHwrGnHIfM5qmy7znUrX6siupv6CecQ1KP3PYeNhWKRLGdV77rIHSHlld_n1rG1ZNTbBcoqOaDF0eCddde7VSK77NRu2T7ecK72Y8/s320/log.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well, the day is here already. I thought I had at least another ten years to go, but as it turns out, yesterday was the day that I officially turned into my mother. I have various memories of shopping with my mother as a child and almost all of them include me following mom down aisle after aisle until she found the perfect bath towel. At the time, it seemed mindless and exhausting, until yesterday, that is when from an aisle in The Christmas Tree Shop I spotted a wall of dish towels and with eyes lit brightly with joy, I exclaimed "Ooo dish towels!" I immediately caught myself, but purchased some towels anyway. I knew that at some point in my life the day would come where I too would be excited by the thought of buying new towels, but deep down inside it still stings a little. :)</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-83972411165576803822011-10-19T06:06:00.000-07:002011-10-19T06:06:15.809-07:00<div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfVj2czrFZ_pO9CWrY6uC-Ksmd2NimHEHvCVtfT5aEAiN_Dj7gfRchp1-78aBWQ-Y-IeEgwrJnFEeF6Qqp6tbKlcdbJhybcdMJEaf-zHmqOcujwhtbjjMjZh8fODDRKWqJ5ocVyNo_EQ/s1600/blog5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" rda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihfVj2czrFZ_pO9CWrY6uC-Ksmd2NimHEHvCVtfT5aEAiN_Dj7gfRchp1-78aBWQ-Y-IeEgwrJnFEeF6Qqp6tbKlcdbJhybcdMJEaf-zHmqOcujwhtbjjMjZh8fODDRKWqJ5ocVyNo_EQ/s320/blog5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">The crinkle, smooth and plasticy.</div><div align="center">Green, crumble, crumble, down.</div><div align="center">Feel for the hole,</div><div align="center">Don't let it breathe.</div><div align="center">The click of the fire,</div><div align="center">It's burning up, red and black.</div><div align="center">Pull it in,</div><div align="center">Fill your chest with fire.</div><div align="center">It burns a hole in your heart,</div><div align="center">and you breathe.</div><div align="center">It's in your head, your eyes,</div><div align="center">It makes you lighter,</div><div align="center">Runs through your body,</div><div align="center">Until all that's left is air.</div><div align="center">Your heart is flying,</div><div align="center">And the music moves through you,</div><div align="center">With its skit skat beat.</div><div align="center">That old song plays in your head.</div><div align="center">You are home.</div><div align="center"></div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-40676307579089707222011-10-18T05:48:00.000-07:002011-10-18T05:49:48.372-07:00<div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHp9SxZWIiFTMGLHGtSDu_cA5C73RESomk8OIPG8hBN3BqbVgmtQyzmzxbnBpExIdz8Hh6PEj-8DzgTjoHflxE40kQUBUPw6wJoNob1rKoUz1n3p7L-cjkLuD7KejaUd1aqosrKg3uzOM/s1600/kindness1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHp9SxZWIiFTMGLHGtSDu_cA5C73RESomk8OIPG8hBN3BqbVgmtQyzmzxbnBpExIdz8Hh6PEj-8DzgTjoHflxE40kQUBUPw6wJoNob1rKoUz1n3p7L-cjkLuD7KejaUd1aqosrKg3uzOM/s1600/kindness1.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">"Being a nice person is way too hard and being a bitch is way too easy." - unknown</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I consider myself to be a truly kind hearted person, but I would be lying if I said that I don't often times feel taken advantage of by people who know me to be a nice person. With that said, I realze that my life could be much easier if I just shut that part of me off. There are many people that only look out for themselves and have no problem walking on the backs of others in order to get what they want. Even though I am aware of how simple it would be to give in and only look out for myself, I refuse to succomb to that. I will continue to be kind to everyone I meet and will always give people the benefit of the doubt. I refuse to turn off my humanity. People have become so robotic, slaves to time and jobs and because of this I can not simply shut off the human side of myself that continues to believe that people are ultimately good. It is surely easier to only have to worry about yourself, but we are all in this together and I will not turn my back on the goodness of the human heart. </div><div align="center">Kill 'em with kindness!</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-35856353642315161742011-10-17T05:39:00.000-07:002011-10-17T05:39:25.292-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyF0uXq0xyRMd3MQDL3qJuj0G8jmlOeoMzDrW1aDWETO6aTtvB5Ogl-D0lr91X32pYT-w5zazBz-4QJ3t3ZhJ6Rw1imdWTCEviyt_IuXVE0ebVHstwsKhIlU-zTAw7GnpaDqS6Z50Ek0o/s1600/2blog1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyF0uXq0xyRMd3MQDL3qJuj0G8jmlOeoMzDrW1aDWETO6aTtvB5Ogl-D0lr91X32pYT-w5zazBz-4QJ3t3ZhJ6Rw1imdWTCEviyt_IuXVE0ebVHstwsKhIlU-zTAw7GnpaDqS6Z50Ek0o/s640/2blog1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My close friend, Melanie Arigo, took this photograph and we agreed that this picture was symbolic of the affect the human race has had on the earth. This is nature, everything that is pure, beautiful and authentic in the world. Yet, even out here where the earth rolls and curves, sunlight dances across the leaves and the sky is clear and calm, there is a sign that we have touched this place. We have stepped on these rocks and brushed passed these branches. Even out here, where the land is still just the land, man has made his mark.</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-65282763948916798222011-10-13T06:15:00.000-07:002011-10-13T06:15:49.374-07:00What Women Want!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-qEyU_gXJJv_csvT_gqyCdxWng7Sj8PUlcbBTPmK_YAwEtgq4Yr1h0aDy_5fSW1ghiP2z61iUclqfbhVNS5eKfZ-h3l1jRhgCs06xEFvZm7uoD5cj17Zh0gh8vzrXN9lXxydMXbnQ7Q/s1600/blog4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-qEyU_gXJJv_csvT_gqyCdxWng7Sj8PUlcbBTPmK_YAwEtgq4Yr1h0aDy_5fSW1ghiP2z61iUclqfbhVNS5eKfZ-h3l1jRhgCs06xEFvZm7uoD5cj17Zh0gh8vzrXN9lXxydMXbnQ7Q/s200/blog4.jpg" width="140" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Some women want money and nice things. Others are after someone with a kind heart or a great sense of humor, but since most women at some point share the same feelings in their relationships, there must be something that is universally desired. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Women desire to have sovereignty over their husbands and their love." - Wife of Bath's Tale</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> For anyone who may not be familiar with the tale, in short, a knight is forced to learn the secret of what women most desire, in order to save his life. From the mouth of a decrepit old woman, he gets his answer. In exchange he must marry the old woman. According to the tale, the secret of what women want most is to have power over their husbands and their hearts. Women do not want to be taken for a ride; we want to know that we have just as much control as you do. It is not that we want to control everything, we just want to know that our partner respects us enough to let us call the shots, at least some of the time. I do not want to "wear the pants" in my marriage, but I do want to know that my opinion is just as valuable as my husbands. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> The Wife of Bath's Tale ends with the knight having to decide whether to keep his wife ugly, but faithful or to have her be beautiful, but ugly and untrue on the inside. His ultimate decision is to let his wife decide what is best. Lo and behold, that had been the key all along. His wife transforms into a beautiful woman who is true and loyal to him. All she wanted was for him to give her the power to decide. Women want to feel that we are considered your equal. Our role, whatever that may be, is just as important to our relationship as yours is and thus our opinions are just as significant as yours. Women were created from the rib of man. We belong next to you and what we want most is to know that you respect us enough to let us walk at your side.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Have a wonderful day!</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-22347972660878324522011-10-12T05:56:00.000-07:002011-10-12T05:56:36.052-07:00No Strings Attached<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4bTOknWdFUDdpOUJoCVxi9tE8cIs71Hu3RyJcjGBXnDjdaufyvoBxZq86bPPvMtlwMKvpsVrrub36tmpUZRh3s5SW2fhQhOralcXq3UyC1m1dW1L7acgai88nsvzhGJn-KgBS1G4z6nc/s1600/blog3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4bTOknWdFUDdpOUJoCVxi9tE8cIs71Hu3RyJcjGBXnDjdaufyvoBxZq86bPPvMtlwMKvpsVrrub36tmpUZRh3s5SW2fhQhOralcXq3UyC1m1dW1L7acgai88nsvzhGJn-KgBS1G4z6nc/s200/blog3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have a girl friend that has been having a "friends with benefits" type of situation going on. She was truly only looking for casual sex and things were going pretty well until the guy decided to tell her that he only wanted to sleep with her. She was cautiously optimistic about the possibility of his being sincere. In the days following he went on to ignore her calls and told her "I'm not going to stop what I'm doing for <em>you."</em> Well isn't this just the perfect picture of how men will find a way to mess with your head no matter what you do. All my friend wanted was some no strings attached sex, but this guy had to go and complicate things just so he could screw with her head a little. Why do men do this? It's sick! You are playing with someones mind and heart for your entertainment purposes. We are good people who give men like you the benefit of the doubt, and in return we get the door slammed in our face. And <strong>then</strong>, when you finally quit messing around and make the decision to settle down and get married, you complain that your wife is a nagging bitch. Well yeah sometimes she is and heres why: every single man before you has done everything in his power to toy with her head and weaken her. Yes, it makes us a little crazy sometimes. In short, it's hugely your own genders fault that she ended up like that so deal with it. And for any of you out there womanzing right now, remember that one day you may have a little girl of your own and everything that you have done to women is what your daughter will one day have done to her. Think about it.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy Wednesday!</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-47239796358362484102011-10-11T05:59:00.000-07:002011-10-11T05:59:52.920-07:00It isn't any trouble just to S-M-I-L-E !<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6FBvRmjqZLrVHU-j0BUgZEbst2E_GxIW9mbC3Lo-GmNjRfCUJiwD2O0_PTLDhG4xAHz0eCZPOXW3qKiGN6K5jmZHuFgUAykblN3Vz2vS-drbTdwAvLkL4k8hFsgm5cRK1te9twfVpAo/s1600/blog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="137" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr6FBvRmjqZLrVHU-j0BUgZEbst2E_GxIW9mbC3Lo-GmNjRfCUJiwD2O0_PTLDhG4xAHz0eCZPOXW3qKiGN6K5jmZHuFgUAykblN3Vz2vS-drbTdwAvLkL4k8hFsgm5cRK1te9twfVpAo/s200/blog2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We are living in a fast paced society. We drive fast, eat fast, walk fast...I get it, you gotta keep moving! BUT would it kill anyone to say "hello" or "good morning" or at least spare a smile? We all have our own stuff going on. At one point or another life has been unkind to each and every one of us. I get that your having a bad day today, because I had one yesterday. Stop and say "good morning" to someone on the street, you may just make their day. One friendly face may have been all that person needed to turn their day around. So, so what if the girl at the check out was rude. When that happens you have two choices. You can choose to be rude right back to her and now not only is she still having a bad day but now you are in a bad mood too, OR you can choose to smile at her and tell her to have a great day, you never know, maybe she will. And as a side note if you ever happen to see a mother out struggling to control her kids, nothing she says to you can be taken as rude. She gets an automatic pass (yes, this means you must smile and tell her to have a good day) because believe me wrestleling children into shopping carts, carriages and car seats will make even the nicest person a bit grumpy. So what I am saying is that you should start your day with a smile on your face and spread it to as many people as you can. Tomorrow might be your bad day and you will need someone to lend you a smile in return. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh, and on another side note if you ever see a mother with her children and carriage and diaper bags and other assorted paraphernalia that she is carrying around, you had better hold the darn door for her! </div><div style="text-align: center;">To the lady who walked through the open door that I was struggling to pull my carriage through while talking on her cell phone last week...eff you! Oops...I mean, have a great day! :)</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Do something kind for someone today, then come back later and tell me about it! </div><div style="text-align: center;">Have a happy Tuesday!</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-21408350604191824612011-10-10T08:03:00.000-07:002011-10-10T08:03:40.778-07:00Paintball & Piñatas<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidObi_lQNTuberS6iTsP0TBBiZDjD1sKNsIfl3V0sf4TtlWVImWrLb501hDP_KLr9WR2mnbXlXvA3wTDdyI73QOyZVjzwADjNc-c0qqA0ao52pgEyUj3-pZ-ilupqG-od6FNyfiPu1OAs/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidObi_lQNTuberS6iTsP0TBBiZDjD1sKNsIfl3V0sf4TtlWVImWrLb501hDP_KLr9WR2mnbXlXvA3wTDdyI73QOyZVjzwADjNc-c0qqA0ao52pgEyUj3-pZ-ilupqG-od6FNyfiPu1OAs/s320/blog.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">We ask ourselves and each other often why are children are becoming increasingly violent. What is wrong with kids today? What's wrong with kids today is that they are living during a time when violence is at the forefront of almost everything they see. Consider this. What can American families be seen doing to celebrate their child's birthday? How about paintballing followed by a junk food fest and finally, my favorite part, the beating of the piñata. So first the birthday child and his friends run around a man made war zone, shooting each other with guns until only one survivor remains. Next they sit down to a well balanced meal of pizza, cake and soda. And finally, mom and dad buy a replica of the child's favorite cartoon character and he and his friends take turns beating it to death and collecting its "guts" off the floor. Well now that I've laid it all out there, I bet it makes a lot of sense. Our kids are out of control because we are training them to be this way. So maybe this year when you celebrate the birth of your child you will consider going back to the good old days, when a birthday party consisted of a clown and a cupcake. Next time your child asks to play a video game, tell him to go outside and use his imagination. He can step outside and enter any world his little mind can dream up OR he can sit on your couch with a controller and pretend to steal a car.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Your call! ;)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Happy Monday!</span></div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-40183966346514086492011-10-07T05:12:00.000-07:002011-10-07T05:12:00.399-07:00<div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">As I wander,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Up the hall,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">I trip on race cars,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Down I fall.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">I'm in the bathroom,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">They knock and yell,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">I rush to answer,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">They have something to tell.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">They spilt the juice,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">On my just washed floor,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">and colored on every,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Wall and door.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">I found jelly on the counter,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">and cookies in the rug,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">One is running towards me,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Showing off a bug.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Their noses are drippy,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Their fingers sticky,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Their faces are dirty,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Their play things icky.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">They throw their toys,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">and bump their heads,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">They fight and wrestle,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">And jump on beds.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">But all I can hear,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Despite the noise,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Is what they whisper,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">At night, my boys.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">"Ok, boys,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">It's time for bed."</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">"We love you mommy"</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Is what they said.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">So though the house is usually a mess,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">The floor scattered with toys,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">I love every second of this life,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color: #073763;">Spent with my little boys.</span></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDFYgqSkuh65jCu1Ozqz374ygBex5ZdncCJCcM8qu-ryKPES_k_pV92goOdG-VD7FD-WBgg-cCQI4nGo-YotxrRkOhBs4uRqOgI9tHiYawtCegD5zSJFloeGaq8OfWCjB-dsBP9fRb8U/s1600/boys4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDFYgqSkuh65jCu1Ozqz374ygBex5ZdncCJCcM8qu-ryKPES_k_pV92goOdG-VD7FD-WBgg-cCQI4nGo-YotxrRkOhBs4uRqOgI9tHiYawtCegD5zSJFloeGaq8OfWCjB-dsBP9fRb8U/s200/boys4.jpg" width="148" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div align="center"></div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-39491809119808608572011-10-06T04:40:00.000-07:002011-10-06T04:42:27.844-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlePzUpfbFSzCeA7g_LnadsOktB-JGom0QYQ60Y6SpticmwCRQn638oxl2Q1JSJspwEpRWgtLt6DGlScddNkEx-W5Hsr1vzIIzJyYcrkwwxUTA6-gxv9lExnZpk350fpfJ0Ww2nydcb2s/s1600/me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlePzUpfbFSzCeA7g_LnadsOktB-JGom0QYQ60Y6SpticmwCRQn638oxl2Q1JSJspwEpRWgtLt6DGlScddNkEx-W5Hsr1vzIIzJyYcrkwwxUTA6-gxv9lExnZpk350fpfJ0Ww2nydcb2s/s200/me.jpg" width="109" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"It is never too late to be who you might have been." -George Elliot</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I was married with two children by the time I was 22, and although I wouldn't take back a moment of the life I created, there did come a point where I questioned if I could ever be anything other than a wife and mother. Was I capable of accomplishing anything more? Before having my children I had dreams just like any other young woman, but as my family grew it seemed that all my doors were closing while my friends had the whole world open to them. It took three years of beating myself up before I realized that the only way to cure unhappiness is to get up and keep moving. Nothing could ever get better if I didn't get up and at least try to get everything I wanted out of life. So I made the decision to go back to school. My goal was really just to finish my degree. I had no plans beyond that, but somewhere along the way i fell in love with learning. What a fantastic opportunity I have to be able to go to school, I would be a fool to waste this chance. I wanted to fulfill my dream of becoming a writer and am finally pursuing something that I love. I am still a wife and mother above all other things, but I am also just Kristina, the young woman, the student, the writer. It is never too late to be who you wanted to be, thought you could be or would have been. You can have it all, the kids, the husband and maintain your own identity, you just have to be willing to chase after all those things you want.</div><div style="text-align: center;">* If there is something more out of life you want or a passion that you wish you would have followed, take one step towards it today. *</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy Thursday!</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-5674963249018672512011-10-05T04:27:00.000-07:002011-10-05T04:27:58.407-07:00Ode to Caffeine<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlEVR_tkOBeDKUHwdSgmgSa2AraGaIeXSDAMQvlEiJmeRlvCg5UW0nln3p8T37WXFSSph0GNkAUXOGaUtlPRxoEeYO_sFoKOwXxbDUfIyPkOmV532VQUVy4KnfaYHIiuCVe5hSxjeArw/s1600/boys3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlEVR_tkOBeDKUHwdSgmgSa2AraGaIeXSDAMQvlEiJmeRlvCg5UW0nln3p8T37WXFSSph0GNkAUXOGaUtlPRxoEeYO_sFoKOwXxbDUfIyPkOmV532VQUVy4KnfaYHIiuCVe5hSxjeArw/s200/boys3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Is it wrong to be turned on by the sound of your coffee brewing in the morning? I think not. Coffee eases me into a through my days like a dear old friend.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Coffee, coffee, in your mug,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Your warm and sweet like a best friend's hug.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Lipstick smudge around your lip,</div><div style="text-align: center;">You awaken me with morning's sip.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That was entitled "Ode to Caffeine." I hope you enjoyed it, for it was one of my finest works. ;)</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-51991915059629716172011-10-04T05:05:00.000-07:002011-10-04T05:08:38.293-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_W_SDgsl4t50eloyzutYcElYvWynX0T-RmyJasldqUld4B0fmIzFgFK74LLeByrXf06kMsib6h7PCWt2mdBhcsXFpBOBxK_surq6_qDOLpGKx2lc9HJV01Sc1cjYJSbmFEDErgK0Yh4/s1600/boys2.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_W_SDgsl4t50eloyzutYcElYvWynX0T-RmyJasldqUld4B0fmIzFgFK74LLeByrXf06kMsib6h7PCWt2mdBhcsXFpBOBxK_surq6_qDOLpGKx2lc9HJV01Sc1cjYJSbmFEDErgK0Yh4/s200/boys2.bmp" width="200" /></a></div><br />
This blog has become a fun way for me to let off some steam, while at the same time entertain those of you who are going through the same daily chaos that I am! So how about a good old rant about mornings, shall we? Aidan and Nicholas woke up at 7:00 am and really anything after 6:59 is considered sleeping in for me so we are off to a good start! I try to shield my eyes from the sun and from the Little Einsteins that have taken over my bedroom television. What better way to start my day then with a "rah rah rah for rocket!" Since Aidan and I both have school this morning, breakfast consists of anything I can reach for and toss onto a plate or into a bowl at a record speed. So today casa de la Kristina served Lucky Charms! My younger son informed me that he doesn't like "yucky charms" while my older son protested against the milk I had added to his cereal, apparently he prefers his "yucky charms" dry. My mistake. Aidan's school is also collecting...(hold that thought, Aidan just asked me to stop sweating him?)...dimes for some charity so my morning also consists of searching every crevice of my house for dimes because the class that collects the most dimes gets a pizza party and what kind of mother would I be if I didn't nearly kill myself so my son could win a pizza party? Well my mornings here are if nothing else entertaining, right? <br />
I also would just like to take a second to thank anyone who is reading this. Writing is truly my passion and it is a wonderful outlet for me to get out any of my frustrations and transform them into something to laugh about. It is an excellent practice and very theraputic for me, so thank you for laughing along with me at my often crazy life! Have a beautiful day!KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-21865949205118494782011-10-03T06:01:00.000-07:002011-10-03T06:01:25.423-07:00Pumpkin picking and other shenanigans..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSOmh3UlB-xH2Jj99G-yZBnFg9vWWakF-7PO7fKOTyHkESm9XLqdKaWthVXWhsHOliHe2twrOcIxQZ0nJmaT-ESKKtVad5coGlqGa91xcDnlmDpfJPCelC_2f8pvVKsJeA0CKhljxA7Fk/s1600/boys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSOmh3UlB-xH2Jj99G-yZBnFg9vWWakF-7PO7fKOTyHkESm9XLqdKaWthVXWhsHOliHe2twrOcIxQZ0nJmaT-ESKKtVad5coGlqGa91xcDnlmDpfJPCelC_2f8pvVKsJeA0CKhljxA7Fk/s200/boys.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This weekend my children and I celebrated all the wonderful things that fall has to offer, fairs, festivals, pumpkin picking, petting zoos, pony rides and hay rides. As I pulled into the parking lot of the farm we went to on Sunday, I thought well my kids are old enough to walk now, this will be the first year that I don't need to push a carriage through miles of farmland, fantastic! What I forgot about, is how heavy pumpkins are, especially when you make a contest of who can find the largest pumpkin. So picture me in the middle of an open pumpkin patch trying to usher my kids through the muddy field while carrying four giant pumpkins, a diaper bag and the sand art that they had just made. There was no way we could continue our day out with my arms loaded with pumpkins so I made a split decision to grab the kids and run for the car to retrieve my carriage. This was perhaps one of the most ridiculous moments of my life. I had Nicholas on one hip, diaper bag on my shoulder, while balancing four pumpkins and some sand art, while holding Aidan's hand as he ate a spongebob ice pop. Walking was not an option, so I was literally running for the car while spongebob freakin' squarepants dripped down my sleeve. When we finally made it to the car I threw all my stuff to the ground like I had just won some sort of grocery shopping challenge (you know with the crazy women pushing shopping carts full of whole chickens around the supermarket like psychos). From there we were able to continue our day without any more major catastrophes. Word of advice: Even when your kids outgrow their carriages, they are still very useful for lugging around pumpkins and other assorted heavy things and I will never leave home without mine again!</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-59958443729366628732011-09-30T05:46:00.000-07:002011-09-30T05:48:55.389-07:00Mommy's Night Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHswb7TEvRbyEmr1nkpD5jJ9gc9srWRJHyglf6TuVXDZW4vmxM_eZklEX8bxXc7Rg5OYOpmuhBO6SdKC9pRoNlb9G_jUwv3NsINUHEPyUOKPcohixvI8lVF6fVxtV6sOivqAG5NBqqdXo/s1600/us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHswb7TEvRbyEmr1nkpD5jJ9gc9srWRJHyglf6TuVXDZW4vmxM_eZklEX8bxXc7Rg5OYOpmuhBO6SdKC9pRoNlb9G_jUwv3NsINUHEPyUOKPcohixvI8lVF6fVxtV6sOivqAG5NBqqdXo/s200/us.jpg" width="149" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On most days I am a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. My teeth are always brushed and my face is always washed, but showering just may or may not fit into my schedule. So any chance I get to do my hair and make-up and...wait for it...SHOWER...I am all over it. So last night was the wedding that I was preparing for by starving myself for six days in order to combat the back fat that I developed over this past summer. I can't say the dress zipped up with ease, but I can say that there weren't any chunks hanging over the back of my dress. Success! Not only was this wedding a chance for me to get done up, it was also a chance for mommy to have one too many cocktails. The combination of a nice shower, some champaign and a couple captain and diets made for a wonderful night. Now, although I am always looking for the funny in everything, nothing really funny happened last night, which I guess is a good thing. I didn't trip and fall, hulk out of my dress or vomit in any strange places. So I guess I will have to instruct today more so than please (that's a little Horace for you, yeah that's right, I take Literary Theory). So to anyone out there who is feeling stressed, overwhelmed or less than beautiful, here is my perscription to you. Grab the one you love most in the world, whether that be your significant other, best friend, mom, dad, sibling, whoever, get as dolled up as you possibly can (if your a mom like me, pop a DVD on for your kid and get your smelly butt in the shower) and go out dancing! It is amazing how much better you can wake up feeling after a good night of drinking and feeling beautiful with someone you love. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To my husband, Jim, I had a wonderful night with you. It makes me so happy to go out with you and be able to be just as carefree as we were when we were dating. You are the love of my life and I promise to never stop having fun with you. Love you always, Krissy. <3</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-52140600970545655712011-09-29T05:21:00.000-07:002011-09-29T05:21:37.996-07:00The day I tried to drop kick a child...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHoGKHFbAejVSqX1UGof-Q62VcJTkY5FDMAAmnBcJnRvWHgZU6CRXafRg_U10wEjHplFgpU3N8yhgzFXA3ctQEI67tagGHK8AWLioCrmAPmU_BOHAZTMw5lkb5NGsHHxeaFyQJ5t9PgKE/s1600/boys1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHoGKHFbAejVSqX1UGof-Q62VcJTkY5FDMAAmnBcJnRvWHgZU6CRXafRg_U10wEjHplFgpU3N8yhgzFXA3ctQEI67tagGHK8AWLioCrmAPmU_BOHAZTMw5lkb5NGsHHxeaFyQJ5t9PgKE/s320/boys1.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>My older son, Aidan, just started full time pre-k this September. When entering school there is a choice that every child is faced with. They can be the bully or the bullied. Now although I am glad that thus far, my four year old has chosen not to beat kids up on the playground or shake kids out in the block corner for their lunch money, when he came home with a bite mark and bruise on his arm, I gave serious thought to persuading him to join the dark side. He had a full set of teeth marks imbedded in his beautiful, innocent, ivory epidermus. As a mother, it is my job to transform into a raging bull when anything happens to my child and so it came as no surprise to anyone when my gut reaction to this was to find whoever did this to him and drop kick them across the classroom. I walked Aidan to school the next day, determined to seek justice for my injured baby. Things took a turn when Aidan pointed out the culprit. The biter wore sparkeling pink shoes, a floral print sundress and a hair bow to match in her curly blonde hair. Now I was fully prepared to drop kick a child, but I had not foreseen that this child would be a little girl. That changed this for sure. I curbed my original instinct when I saw her adorably sweet smile. "Okay Aidan, if she bothers you today just make sure to tell your teacher," I said as I ushered him into the building. It wasn't until I was walking home that I realized what had just happened. Even at the young age of four that little girl knew how to play me! How many times have I pulled the "but I'm just a girl" card, when trying to get out of trouble. I flash my sweetest smile and try to look as dumb as possible and magically, I am forgiven! That little girl is a genius! It's a tale as old as time! The evil girl gets off because she's cute! Well I guess it is good that Aidan is learning this lesson as a young age since he will be dealing with it for the rest of his life. So I guess really when entering school you have three choices. You can be the bully, the bullied or the crafty bully. Choose wisely my children!KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-90220908981648600002011-09-28T03:41:00.000-07:002011-09-28T08:21:10.432-07:00Battle of the Back Fat: Day 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sjjqr3iaLi2-6n72xTPcbNEnLeaSeS5AcTTlFIvZ_kK56Nw7BhUy8YbOxe4ETG5RwjQzIYc01qSnDKXVzfYO8K0JQbAGTfugd5gT8mqvdt10pCyuBG10OSbGmLxg2OA2PLBBBOp_bo0/s1600/me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sjjqr3iaLi2-6n72xTPcbNEnLeaSeS5AcTTlFIvZ_kK56Nw7BhUy8YbOxe4ETG5RwjQzIYc01qSnDKXVzfYO8K0JQbAGTfugd5gT8mqvdt10pCyuBG10OSbGmLxg2OA2PLBBBOp_bo0/s200/me.jpg" width="149" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I usually don't write my blog until the morning, but I am having a weak moment right now so here I am. Today is the 4th day of my attempt at starvation. I made it all day, but cracked at 10:30 at night and snuck downstairs for a little snackeroo. Is it just me or does everyone feel that if they eat secretly it won't make them fat? As long as no one else saw me eat that entire bag of fudge stripe cookies, then it didn't even really happen, did it? Like if a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound? If Kristina eats while hiding in her kitchen, does she gain a pound? The more reasonable side of me says yes of course, you will still get fat even if no one else watches you eat the cookies, but those delicious little cookies scream out "Just do it! No one is here, they can't see you, just eat me, I won't tell!" I swear these cookies are evil! Often, I will buy those lovely little 100 calorie packs of cookies. Oh look! I can be thin and still have a snack! Sadly, I have a bit of a problem with portion control and anyone who knows me can attest to this. So when I sit down and eat 5 packages of 100 calorie pack cookies, I am completely undermining the idea of being able to have a sensible snack. To me, there is no such thing as a "sensible snack." A snack is an indulgence, a treat. It is something to be enjoyed and I don't ENJOY eating two cookies, I enjoy eating many, many cookies! So if I sit down to have a snack, I don't want a "snack pack" of cookies, I want a whole bag of cookies! Portion control. be damned! But anyhow, now I am going to bed with that wonderful guilty feeling! Oh well, better luck tomorrow! Everyday is a new day to make right of what was wrong yesterday. And umm yeah, I think I just made that up. Pretty sweet! Write that down somewhere! :) Have a great day guys!</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-55692497186395601402011-09-27T06:18:00.000-07:002011-09-27T06:18:46.185-07:00Melissa LynnI planned to right about my father today, but while searching for a picture of him to accompany this post, I found so many amazing pictures of my sister, Melissa, that I felt I would be a fool not to take advantage of the opportunity to further explain my sister. I am choosing to write about my family at the start of my blogging career because they have made me what I am today and knowing them can only further your insight into my life. Well here is Melissa...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvACWrfr_wQKLo9mRBwwr68mckglEMfOwA8iEjmResQfB4jULYUvcDRGZQB3J2myZDFK26vzjNpUfdvxZz3ItW9OyMpY6ABB6D0lObL_gC37qlxkS-l-NXjRHyhn6CSgkDOGS2mTz3zh4/s1600/mel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvACWrfr_wQKLo9mRBwwr68mckglEMfOwA8iEjmResQfB4jULYUvcDRGZQB3J2myZDFK26vzjNpUfdvxZz3ItW9OyMpY6ABB6D0lObL_gC37qlxkS-l-NXjRHyhn6CSgkDOGS2mTz3zh4/s200/mel.jpg" width="149" /></a></div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAy00IWk8SZ21UOhznHcIgQrG-qHFjHM_UmaCX65XfbpGdkZTUKSCDrdCdvaYN2oOKt6ksV4Nenqckhj_BJADZZFhH_jxzPcuOYZ4d7X1N4qjeGPz7eSvSkiVe4vsFlXjKIfrt2PUD25M/s1600/mel2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAy00IWk8SZ21UOhznHcIgQrG-qHFjHM_UmaCX65XfbpGdkZTUKSCDrdCdvaYN2oOKt6ksV4Nenqckhj_BJADZZFhH_jxzPcuOYZ4d7X1N4qjeGPz7eSvSkiVe4vsFlXjKIfrt2PUD25M/s200/mel2.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
Now clearly she has a few screws lose and I really can't argue that, but her weirdness makes her very funny and fascinating to observe. For example, Melissa recently started a new job working for a bagel store. She went to work during her first week there, sporting her company's T-shirt and cap proudly. She went behind the counter and attempted to get to work. For some reason the register seemed foreign to her, but this isn't really THAT unusual for Melissa so she tried her best to figure out the machine. At some point she realized that she was getting some odd looks from employees and customers. Finally, another employee told her that she was at the deli and that the bagel store where she worked was across the street. Needless, to say Melissa's career buttering bagels was short lived. Another time Melissa walked into the room of one of her college classes, bumped into a students desk and knocked the girls phone on the floor. The girl tried to reach down to retrieve her phone, but her desk toppled over. Now, as Melissa tells the story, the girl was trying desperately to get out from under her desk but since her feet were in the air she just wiggled around helplessly until someone took the desk off of her. Now, given the fact that Melissa was the one who started this whole classroom catastrophe, you would think that she would have been the one to lift the desk off of the squirming girl, but she couldn't you see, because she was too busy caught between laughing hysterically and peeing her pants. Understandable. I come from a long line of ridiculous people which has brought me to where I am today. I had two choices growing up. I could either join the family in their ridiculous antics or I could take the road less traveled by our family members and become a sane and functional person like my sister Laura, blah blah blah, genius freak. I have always been more of a follower so I decided to join in my families absurdity. Watching Laura, blah blah blah, genius freak (I don't think I have to do this every time, you get the point...she is freakishly intelligent) has shown me that there was another way growing up, I could have taken the craziness in stride and used it to empower myself to be a wiser person, but I have to say I'm glad I made the choice that I did. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't love being crazy, disfunctional and ridiculous. I believe that is what dreams are really made of, taking the insanity that is the real world and running with it! Most of us are at least a little bit crazy and the key is to accept it and flaunt it anyway you can! So I made a blog! :) See you tomorrow!KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-70400182088307004332011-09-26T05:57:00.000-07:002011-09-26T05:57:18.355-07:00My lesser half... ;)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DnqJCsjrL6Sll8clgV17OXWcEGjfpCgLIiH4X8tCj5O0A3AmZsP7128xpItJTSJbV1iadtVFNNbPBoY4iJNuPJCRTHAjVmwJFFqJ6XbLufG4SDg27wABu8apEOqol4X1n6DGm3B-OlE/s1600/IMG_4604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1DnqJCsjrL6Sll8clgV17OXWcEGjfpCgLIiH4X8tCj5O0A3AmZsP7128xpItJTSJbV1iadtVFNNbPBoY4iJNuPJCRTHAjVmwJFFqJ6XbLufG4SDg27wABu8apEOqol4X1n6DGm3B-OlE/s200/IMG_4604.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I will start with my usual disclaimer. The subject of today's blog is the love of my life, my husband, Jim! In most aspects of his life he is very generous. He buys me anything and everything I want. However there is this other side to Jim and for some reason this other side of him is an extreme bargain hunter. Let me give you an example in case you don't quite understand. We went to the mall last week with the kids. At some point of the trip came the best part of going to the mall, choosing what to have from the food court. Now if you have ever been to a large food court, like the one in Roosevelt Field Mall you have probably seen the people handing out samples of chicken as you walk around. My husband, crafty as he is, has a system in which he does laps around the food court collecting samples of chicken on a stick and this is his lunch. "Why spend $10 on lunch when they are just handing it out for free?" he argues. Now this wouldn't be so bad if he just did his thing and then met us back at the table where were eating our lunch, but no, he wants us all to do laps with him so that we can also collect chicken for him to eat. This is embarrassing to say the least. "Oh, Kris, bourbon chicken!" he says as if the concept of bourbon chicken is unknown to us both. I take the stick of chicken as if it's something I have never seen before and when no one is looking, dutifully hand it over to Jim. He really hit the jackpot on this particular trip since The Ranch Grill was handing out samples of smoothies. "This is great, I don't even have to buy a drink!" Well I guess no one is perfect. He is truly a wonderful man, husband and father but we all have our flaws! I bite my cuticles, Jim steals chicken from food courts. :) I love you Jim, and promise to steal bourbon chicken for you forever and always! Love, your wife.</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-33453524424621451462011-09-24T07:10:00.000-07:002011-09-24T07:10:36.218-07:00A problem arises...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMNKGLuVFcT5nwmkmo8v4o4ArHOwf4bMBhE4YmXdOXIXz687mCGv6jlJuHbq4RZPb-7WgjtamRy1U-WCQCsHfAhVQ43fK9fXRhMYMiAOTCC8Omx8yBp3raomvHRhIIoo64Z5VweVOCzVY/s1600/blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMNKGLuVFcT5nwmkmo8v4o4ArHOwf4bMBhE4YmXdOXIXz687mCGv6jlJuHbq4RZPb-7WgjtamRy1U-WCQCsHfAhVQ43fK9fXRhMYMiAOTCC8Omx8yBp3raomvHRhIIoo64Z5VweVOCzVY/s320/blog.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have a wedding to attend on Thursday and this is the dress that I will be wearing. Cute, right? Well here is the problem. I bought this dress back in April. Now to say that I was indulgent this summer would be an understatement. It seems that I decided to put on my 'freshman fifteen' during my sixth year of college. I was being different! I decided that ignorance was bliss and that I just wouldn't try the dress on until the wedding and keep my fingers crossed that it fit. However, my mother convinced me to try it on. I will start with the positive. From the front the dress still looks very nice. The problem arises when I turn around. It seems that a summers worth of cheeseburgers and McFlurry's equals an enormous back fat problem, or as my husband puts it "You have back boobs." Well here I am in a bit of a pickle since the wedding is in six days. So I turned to those closest to me for advise. My husband advised me to where the dress unzipped, maybe no one would notice. My mother advised me not to eat until Thursday. These two should right some sort of self help book, don't you think? Needless to say I decided to try out mom's idea. Worst case scenario, her plan fails and I move onto plan B. Best case scenario, I succeed in fitting comfortably into the dress, but I accidently eat one of the children on Friday after my fast is over. Either way I'm sure it will work out! I went for a run this morning hoping to burn off some of my summer chub. I was feeling positive upon my return home when my husband told me that the groom had called and "wants to know what your back fat will be having for dinner on Thursday?" See, that's why I love him so much! He is always thinking of me! So I will keep you posted on my 6 day Battle of the Back Bulge Challenge! Feel free to share any of your over indulgent summer stories here as well!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2353714437635079995.post-59652814839426569622011-09-23T04:24:00.001-07:002011-09-23T07:15:01.914-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EBoKkZWBFK73IU7wDgonIhC5AKvRfvjFUXXjjDQDFITwcghuqJLNTGfx9JYwNz3gwhRmHbJ6e21S17KKGug-0jc01XN33CpLwRw6ZINwCFzYjTC9HDsqdkAfHDIHnaKTttmBqs-F50Q/s1600/bolg1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EBoKkZWBFK73IU7wDgonIhC5AKvRfvjFUXXjjDQDFITwcghuqJLNTGfx9JYwNz3gwhRmHbJ6e21S17KKGug-0jc01XN33CpLwRw6ZINwCFzYjTC9HDsqdkAfHDIHnaKTttmBqs-F50Q/s200/bolg1.jpg" width="149" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jC16CFr-uzripNRROossT_tEhyphenhyphenOqtQ25lC3HQv7VIomiyOTcH7xVcVhT591u4Oq8iKSOAOAUX8fW7uslQvb7ok7UAvBNd2eFj776hQS8jhvKxM2j7kdL7ssq09aVOjozmfwZu30tJio/s1600/blog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4jC16CFr-uzripNRROossT_tEhyphenhyphenOqtQ25lC3HQv7VIomiyOTcH7xVcVhT591u4Oq8iKSOAOAUX8fW7uslQvb7ok7UAvBNd2eFj776hQS8jhvKxM2j7kdL7ssq09aVOjozmfwZu30tJio/s200/blog2.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>Does anyone else see something sinister in their eyes? I kid!KristinaDRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15823512806507462729noreply@blogger.com0