<?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-29660163</id><updated>2012-02-16T06:03:49.985-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MamaDigs.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-6207911907320775530</id><published>2008-05-07T22:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T23:19:36.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Downtown Downsizing</title><content type='html'>I am a big fat liar.  No posts since January? I suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I last posted, we sold our farm in Cloverbale, (read: townhouse in the suburbs) our second car, and are now renting an 1100 sq ft apartment in downtown Vancouver.  You heard right.  Renting.  Everything is in storage, our pots and pans in with the vacuum and an elevator to our living space. But now it takes me 12 minutes to walk to work and that's  if I stop for coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After wading through the nods of disapproval, we've finally settled in.  In our small apartment with 'corridor views' of the ocean and rad pink and black granite in the hallway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Lily, at 2.5 has settled comfortably into apartment living.  She blows bubbles from the 12th floor balcony, sips steamed soy milk lattes and races out of elevators so she doesn't get 'bitten'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for Jay and I.  We finally realized how crazy we were for commuting 2.5 hours per day for all those years.    We have no plans for 2 years down the road.  And for once in a long long time -   it feels pretty nice.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKZh3Bs6mI/AAAAAAAAAH4/DjkicJv8OVE/s1600-h/DSC00791.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKZh3Bs6mI/AAAAAAAAAH4/DjkicJv8OVE/s320/DSC00791.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197885726924794466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-6207911907320775530?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/6207911907320775530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=6207911907320775530&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6207911907320775530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6207911907320775530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2008/05/downtown-downsizing.html' title='Downtown Downsizing'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKZh3Bs6mI/AAAAAAAAAH4/DjkicJv8OVE/s72-c/DSC00791.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-1468369066167445685</id><published>2008-01-24T22:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T22:58:44.745-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Time to Update</title><content type='html'>It's not that I haven't had a lot to say - because I do.  And things are finally at this perfect angle of repose.  Balanced life - family life is good, Jay and I are happy and work is fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Lily - Lily's 2 now. 2! And at a a stage that I just don't ever want to end.  She's giggly, fun, curious and funny but not on purpose - I'm enjoying her immensely right now.  Everything is a great adventure - trips to the grocery store, walks to the store, dance parties in our front living room. And she behaves, says thank you, doesn't drop eff bombs and has the best hair. ever. The world for her is black magic, where street lights change colour all by themselves and swiping a card through a machine buys you some licorice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want her to stay like this forever.  Forget 29 forever.  My votes on 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/R5mIDv546wI/AAAAAAAAAHk/VBokGtyBlRo/s1600-h/DSC00535.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/R5mIDv546wI/AAAAAAAAAHk/VBokGtyBlRo/s320/DSC00535.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159304446109870850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps. Yes we're at the race track.  We took her there for her second Birthday.   We're class alllllll the way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-1468369066167445685?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/1468369066167445685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=1468369066167445685&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/1468369066167445685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/1468369066167445685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2008/01/time-to-update.html' title='Time to Update'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/R5mIDv546wI/AAAAAAAAAHk/VBokGtyBlRo/s72-c/DSC00535.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-8710252588880675261</id><published>2007-10-27T15:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T15:33:23.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>At the Dawn of Two</title><content type='html'>At almost 22 months, our little 'angel-cakes' has adopted some colourful new 'expressive' phrases that I am oh so proud of.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Get out of the way' - Mostly to me and usually when I am bending down to give her a kiss.  Lovely...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Go away' - accompanied by a shove, this beauty of a phrase is lovingly directed towards anyone who 'gets in her face' (ie hugging, picking up, wiping face, stroking her hair)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F&amp;*k - A personal fav.  We drove down to Portland last weekend for a little chillaxer before the busy Xmas season.  The lineup across the border was atrocious and we had to wait over an hour on a weekday morning to get through.  It was undeniably tense in the car as I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; to stop at Wired Monk to pick up a real coffee, stretching our time before getting to the border.  Really, she captured the moment perfectly with its use.  But I couldn't stop laughing at the sound of it - it had been weeks since both of us had even said it around her.  So - all the way down to Portland, and at various stressful moments during the weekend, she went off on these F&amp;*k tirades.  Then repeated again at granma and grandpa's today.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to buy a video camera.  This stage is golden.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-8710252588880675261?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/8710252588880675261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=8710252588880675261&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8710252588880675261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8710252588880675261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/10/at-dawn-of-two.html' title='At the Dawn of Two'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-5736885758718986090</id><published>2007-09-30T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T14:41:46.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stayin' Alive</title><content type='html'>No.  Not dead.  Just a bit too busy for posts lately.  That and dodder decided to test durability of digital camera by throwing it on the floor.  Conclusion:  Camera is not durable.  So no new pics for months.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will post an update shortly.  Promise...  No.  I'm not crossing my fingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For your viewing pleasure - Lily.  Old skool.  Summer 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RwAX49dua_I/AAAAAAAAAHc/VOGb1R6yHuM/s1600-h/n715220574_450193_3766.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RwAX49dua_I/AAAAAAAAAHc/VOGb1R6yHuM/s320/n715220574_450193_3766.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116115444032236530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-5736885758718986090?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/5736885758718986090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=5736885758718986090&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/5736885758718986090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/5736885758718986090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/09/stayin-alive.html' title='Stayin&apos; Alive'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RwAX49dua_I/AAAAAAAAAHc/VOGb1R6yHuM/s72-c/n715220574_450193_3766.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-6119394080207505953</id><published>2007-07-16T07:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T07:39:02.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Away from Lily</title><content type='html'>This is what Lily looks like after a weekend with the grandparents.  Exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah - that's right - our first Lily-free weekend.  Pure. Indulgence.  Deets to follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RpuCbst5anI/AAAAAAAAAHM/CssnZ5ibgv0/s1600-h/IMG_1618.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RpuCbst5anI/AAAAAAAAAHM/CssnZ5ibgv0/s320/IMG_1618.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087803616416852594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-6119394080207505953?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/6119394080207505953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=6119394080207505953&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6119394080207505953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6119394080207505953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/07/away-from-lily.html' title='Away from Lily'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RpuCbst5anI/AAAAAAAAAHM/CssnZ5ibgv0/s72-c/IMG_1618.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-8993878884413756791</id><published>2007-06-24T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T14:52:14.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Toast</title><content type='html'>Today I had a shower with a piece of toast.  I think I've reached my pinnacle of tolerance.  Toast.  Seriously - what was I thinking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you what I was thinking...  Peace.  Lily usually has a shower with me on the weekends. She sits on the ground, plays with the shaving cream, pretends to wash her hair.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a playdate this morning at 11.  I slept in until 9:30 and Lily was STILL SLEEPING!  We had to be out of the door by 10:45 and I still had to make some muffins for the playdate (from scratch - thank you very much), feed both of us breakfast, shower and dress both of us, pack her bag and her lunch, and pick up a coffee to feed my full-borne coffee addition.  Lily, on a whim, slept in until 10am (with a bedtime of 8 the night before).  Actually, I had to WAKE her up at 10.  I made the muffins while she slept, woke her up, fed her a bottle, then made her and I breakfast.  I looked at the time.  10:30. DAMMIT!  15 minutes to shower, dress and leave.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I yanked her from her highchair mid breakfast and dragged her up to the shower with toast in hand.  I turned on the shower and told her to put down the toast.  Nope.  Not gonna happen.  So I tried to take it out of her hand.  That would be a no on that one as well. Weighing my options, I could either deal with: 1. a tantrum or 2. soggy toast.  The toast won.  Tantrums take up too much time.  So - that's how the toast ended in the shower this morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She still ate it, though. Mmmmmm.  Sure glad she was blessed with my less than stellar short-term memory...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;L  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-8993878884413756791?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/8993878884413756791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=8993878884413756791&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8993878884413756791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8993878884413756791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/06/toast.html' title='Toast'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-3949527659112546102</id><published>2007-06-18T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-18T23:00:34.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Phone Call</title><content type='html'>Today I had my first real conversation with Lily on the phone.  Our usual phonecalls consists of my making an ass of myself, shootin' the one-year-old shit to a phone long abandoned by Lily, who usually squeals into the phone when she hears my voice, throws the phone down and runs to the other side of the room.   (sounds ominous, eh?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driving home from work today, I phoned home to get the lowdown from Jason.  Jay was in the garage with Lily.  She loves the garage.  Who doesn't?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was put on the phone immediately and our very first convero went something like this: Note that all capitalized words indicate that she was YELLING into the phone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M: Hi Lily Baby!!&lt;br /&gt;L: LILY!!&lt;br /&gt;M: How was your day?&lt;br /&gt;*Silence*&lt;br /&gt;M Did you see Granpa and Granma today?&lt;br /&gt;L: BUMPA!!&lt;br /&gt;*778* Dial tone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I phone back. Lily is back on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M: Hi Baby!!&lt;br /&gt;L: BABY BABY &lt;br /&gt;M: Are you in the garage with Papa?&lt;br /&gt;L: PAPA! PAPA! PAPA!&lt;br /&gt;M: What are you doing?&lt;br /&gt;*Silence*&lt;br /&gt;*Squeals, drops phone and runs off*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I phone back again.  I just want to find out if Jay needs anything before I get home.  No such luck - she's back on the phone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M: Hello Lily!&lt;br /&gt;L: HELLO HELLO! HELLO! LILY! LILY!&lt;br /&gt;M: Are you in the garage with Mr. Sun? (there's a sun pinata in our garage)&lt;br /&gt;L: MI SAH (Mr. Sun)&lt;br /&gt;M: Are you reading a book?  (I'm reaching now - there's only so much we can talk about)&lt;br /&gt;L: BOOK!!!!&lt;br /&gt;M: K. Cool.  Bye bye Lily.  Where's Papa? Put Papa on the phone. &lt;br /&gt;L: BYE BYE!! COOL!! COOL!&lt;br /&gt;*999444* Dial tone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart, right?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-3949527659112546102?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/3949527659112546102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=3949527659112546102&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3949527659112546102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3949527659112546102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/06/phone-call.html' title='The Phone Call'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-8145115327554157417</id><published>2007-06-12T22:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T07:51:30.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Film</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lily's second feature film. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the fast-paced, risky business of sales, Lily is at the top of her game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In her little world - it's Sell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or die trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lily is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Closing the Deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sVrwDgfkjuw"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sVrwDgfkjuw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-8145115327554157417?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hlc2mHTJN0' title='New Film'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/8145115327554157417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=8145115327554157417&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8145115327554157417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8145115327554157417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/06/closing-deal.html' title='New Film'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-6555127824575096963</id><published>2007-06-08T08:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T08:33:41.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shark in the Tub</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rml2o31byFI/AAAAAAAAAHE/69s1tjAOHPQ/s1600-h/IMG_3642.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rml2o31byFI/AAAAAAAAAHE/69s1tjAOHPQ/s400/IMG_3642.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073716899764488274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Lxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-6555127824575096963?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/6555127824575096963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=6555127824575096963&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6555127824575096963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6555127824575096963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/06/shark-in-tub.html' title='Shark in the Tub'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rml2o31byFI/AAAAAAAAAHE/69s1tjAOHPQ/s72-c/IMG_3642.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-6483936034596894323</id><published>2007-05-30T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T22:39:44.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lesson's Learned by Laura - Part Deux</title><content type='html'>A double whammy for ya:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Gardening and runny noses.  Not a good combo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rl5d_7cOl1I/AAAAAAAAAG0/nCskRYLBKpc/s1600-h/IMG_3632.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rl5d_7cOl1I/AAAAAAAAAG0/nCskRYLBKpc/s320/IMG_3632.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070593583334987602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Dirtiest baby EVER&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;2. Don't take your eye off your babe at the beach - not even for a second.  Case in point: Using shovel to funnel sand in her mouth - not bucket. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rl5e5bcOl2I/AAAAAAAAAG8/Gc7Y7uAeF0w/s1600-h/IMG_3624.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rl5e5bcOl2I/AAAAAAAAAG8/Gc7Y7uAeF0w/s320/IMG_3624.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070594571177465698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Eating gourmet at Crescent Beach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;LXO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/29660163-6483936034596894323?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/6483936034596894323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=6483936034596894323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6483936034596894323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6483936034596894323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/05/lessons-learned-by-laura-part-deux.html' title='Lesson&apos;s Learned by Laura - Part Deux'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rl5d_7cOl1I/AAAAAAAAAG0/nCskRYLBKpc/s72-c/IMG_3632.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-614319268146081080</id><published>2007-05-18T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T22:28:21.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Diversion</title><content type='html'>Took the babe shopping the other day at IGA.  Shopping with a toddler is NOT as easy as it looks.  She takes off as soon as we step into the store, looking back only occasionally when she wants me to come her way.  And yes -there is only one way in Lily-land. It's whatever direction she goes...  And she freaks out when I try to hold her.  Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Jason was paying for the groceries, I was showing Lily the ridey horse ride (what the heck are these things officially called?) -  conveniently placed beside the kids shopping carts.  I have since learned these carts are the 'fru-eets of the dev-eel' as Lily insists on ramming the cart into shoppers' leg - like some early form of baby Pacman.  Needless to say we're not that popular at the local IGA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to distract her for like 30 seconds while Paps finished at the till.  In the meantime, restraining her from ripping bags of potatoe chips off the nearby chip display (sacriligious!), distracting her from the Baluzabeth carts and digging around in every crevice to find a quarter for the damn horse ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lily desparately wanted a cart.  She didn't care about the stupid horse, for which her pathetically poor mama couldn't afford.  Nor did she care for my incessant 'No cart right now, sweety' pep talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly she wriggled loose from me, ran a couple of metres away, then threw Todd on the floor.  When I scurried to pick him up, she ran back to the carts, and grabbed one - started yanking it out.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rl5cjLcOl0I/AAAAAAAAAGs/o46slfQfMls/s1600-h/IMG_3276.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rl5cjLcOl0I/AAAAAAAAAGs/o46slfQfMls/s320/IMG_3276.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070591989902120770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I stood there for a second.  Had I been duped by a 1.5 year old? How does a 1 year old know how to create a diversion?   Seriously?  Is diversionary tactics pre-programmed into our DNA or was this a survival skill picked up at Daycare lady's house?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well played Lily.  Well played indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LXO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-614319268146081080?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/614319268146081080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/614319268146081080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/05/diversion.html' title='The Diversion'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rl5cjLcOl0I/AAAAAAAAAGs/o46slfQfMls/s72-c/IMG_3276.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-3310734371892119051</id><published>2007-05-07T23:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T00:18:26.772-07:00</updated><title type='text'>San Fran or Bust - Cont. Really Late</title><content type='html'>A picture diary of the last leg of our trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Farewell San Fran&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAb5UmB3bI/AAAAAAAAAFk/W3RN1SbhzlI/s1600-h/IMG_3418.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAb5UmB3bI/AAAAAAAAAFk/W3RN1SbhzlI/s320/IMG_3418.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062076652759145906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Too late to turn around?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Napa Valley&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAb5kmB3cI/AAAAAAAAAFs/SrnjYvh8rYA/s1600-h/IMG_3424.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAb5kmB3cI/AAAAAAAAAFs/SrnjYvh8rYA/s320/IMG_3424.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062076657054113218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Grapes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAb6EmB3dI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Rx1WYiKqOXY/s1600-h/IMG_3436.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAb6EmB3dI/AAAAAAAAAF0/Rx1WYiKqOXY/s320/IMG_3436.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062076665644047826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;$30 to get in to see this lame fountain - so took picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cali/Oregon Coast&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAeHUmB3gI/AAAAAAAAAGM/lyuT-Plw268/s1600-h/IMG_3443.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAeHUmB3gI/AAAAAAAAAGM/lyuT-Plw268/s320/IMG_3443.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062079092300570114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAeHEmB3fI/AAAAAAAAAGE/EEsTp729jfk/s1600-h/IMG_3441.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAeHEmB3fI/AAAAAAAAAGE/EEsTp729jfk/s320/IMG_3441.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062079088005602802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Redwood Forest - The highlight of Lily's trip - Chainsaw bear store.  Here for over 1 hour.  Almost had to buy one.  Almost...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAeGkmB3eI/AAAAAAAAAF8/NbAe7vNwBcU/s1600-h/IMG_3438.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAeGkmB3eI/AAAAAAAAAF8/NbAe7vNwBcU/s320/IMG_3438.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062079079415668194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Redwood Forest - Drive Through Tree.  $5 entrance fee.  $5 too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAhpkmB3hI/AAAAAAAAAGU/4My2_kWzgjw/s1600-h/IMG_3462.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAhpkmB3hI/AAAAAAAAAGU/4My2_kWzgjw/s320/IMG_3462.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062082979245973010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Pure Bliss at Oregon Beach.  Lily had trouble walking in the sand.  But loved collecting shells. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Portland&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAhp0mB3iI/AAAAAAAAAGc/OtgyyaHF04w/s1600-h/IMG_3471.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAhp0mB3iI/AAAAAAAAAGc/OtgyyaHF04w/s320/IMG_3471.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062082983540940322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Portland. Smooches in the smallest hotel room in the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAhqUmB3jI/AAAAAAAAAGk/p9NoF5cI5U0/s1600-h/IMG_3473.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAhqUmB3jI/AAAAAAAAAGk/p9NoF5cI5U0/s320/IMG_3473.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062082992130874930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Lily Heaven  - Buried in stuffed animals at the end of the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Lxo&lt;/span&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/29660163-3310734371892119051?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/3310734371892119051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=3310734371892119051&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3310734371892119051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3310734371892119051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/05/san-fran-or-bust-cont-really-late.html' title='San Fran or Bust - Cont. Really Late'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAb5UmB3bI/AAAAAAAAAFk/W3RN1SbhzlI/s72-c/IMG_3418.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-7198365272172835912</id><published>2007-04-26T22:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T23:36:54.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAabkmB3aI/AAAAAAAAAFc/wMPwOfXWNYg/s1600-h/IMG_3302.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAabkmB3aI/AAAAAAAAAFc/wMPwOfXWNYg/s320/IMG_3302.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062075042146409890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Apart from holding the Cutest Baby Ever of the Month Award, Lily has started throwing tantrums.  Few and far between.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;But their presence makes me fear 2 with every inch of my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Unnatural body contortions.  Her pigtails retreat to the back of her head like an angry dog.  All while screaming uncontrollably (Jay swore he saw foam)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lil' bit scared....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-7198365272172835912?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/7198365272172835912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=7198365272172835912&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/7198365272172835912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/7198365272172835912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/04/ps.html' title='PS'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAabkmB3aI/AAAAAAAAAFc/wMPwOfXWNYg/s72-c/IMG_3302.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-7033165215579426503</id><published>2007-04-26T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T23:34:49.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mamacrack</title><content type='html'>Lily is now 15 months - and TO.DIE.FOR.CUTE.  Cute pig taily hair, cute big belly, cute knarly teeth - Pure barforama cuteness.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAYzkmB3XI/AAAAAAAAAFE/sUqDRaQEDRU/s1600-h/IMG_3490.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAYzkmB3XI/AAAAAAAAAFE/sUqDRaQEDRU/s320/IMG_3490.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062073255440014706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Reflecting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Besides her dashing good looks - she's finally started to figure this whole talking thing out.  Like if she says a word - she'll get something from us.  Novel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure, in 6 months I'll be begging for silence - you wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of my fav's of late:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tah&lt;/span&gt; - Todd the Frog&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dow&lt;/span&gt; - down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shooos&lt;/span&gt; - Shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MiSah&lt;/span&gt; - Mr. Sun - a sun pinata we have in our garage.  I know, I know - why do I have a sun pinata in my garage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Boh&lt;/span&gt; - ball (she says this at least 299 times a day - even if there's no ball in the room)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Cheese&lt;/span&gt; - and smiles at the camera&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ah lah sdflk&lt;/span&gt; - I love you (seriously - she just doesn't say it very well)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh&lt;/span&gt; - which she says repeatedly until I get what she wants at that moment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And hands down, the most adorable thing she does is the Old McDonald Duet:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama: Old McDonald had a farm (c'mon - everyone now!)&lt;br /&gt;Lily: Ei-I-Ei-I-O&lt;br /&gt;Mama: And on his farm he had a duck&lt;br /&gt;Lily: Quacks&lt;br /&gt;REPEAT with Dog, cat, cow, pig, elephant, lion, bear, pig, tiger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't get enough - I make her sing that damn song when she wakes up, on the way to daycare, when changing her diaper, in her highchair, bath, feeding her before bed - I add new animals from time to time, like snakes, goats...  I'm addicted...  I have a problem.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAZFkmB3YI/AAAAAAAAAFM/uw9JskCquP8/s1600-h/IMG_3482.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAZFkmB3YI/AAAAAAAAAFM/uw9JskCquP8/s320/IMG_3482.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062073564677660034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Gardening&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I was at a meeting today and someone was talking about her daughter, who's almost three, who can speak 4 languages - and I mentioned how absolutely thrilled I was that she can immediately switch from the call of an elephant to a duck (that's hard).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to secretly record it so you can understand my gushfulness.  Man - my life has turned into one big "when I was at band camp" moment.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAZZkmB3ZI/AAAAAAAAAFU/5lm-oxrl608/s1600-h/IMG_3458.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAZZkmB3ZI/AAAAAAAAAFU/5lm-oxrl608/s320/IMG_3458.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062073908275043730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Beach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lxo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-7033165215579426503?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/7033165215579426503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=7033165215579426503&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/7033165215579426503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/7033165215579426503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/04/mamacrack.html' title='Mamacrack'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RkAYzkmB3XI/AAAAAAAAAFE/sUqDRaQEDRU/s72-c/IMG_3490.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-8752711941062009662</id><published>2007-04-09T23:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T00:25:04.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'>San Fran or Bust – Cont again</title><content type='html'>San Fran is fabulous.  The hills, the history built on those hills.  But as a Vancouver resident, is somewhat of a template of cities like Seattle and Vancouver.  I expected a Granville Island or Pike Place.  I expected a Chinatown, complete with unrecognizable dried &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thingamabobbies&lt;/span&gt;, and I expected a downtown shopping district.  But what I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;’t expect was the vastness of these districts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got up this morning, in our two bedroom haven to the sound of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;dumptrucks&lt;/span&gt;.  We headed down to Fisherman’s &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Wharf&lt;/span&gt; –a must see by everyone I talked to.  Honestly, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;’t too impressed.  Very taupe.  Tourist traps do nothing for me.  And the sight of Starbucks and In and Out Burger on the wharf seemed sacrilegious.  The area replete with metallic street performers, cheesy tee shirt shops and knock off sunglasses.  Who buys this crap?  I was on the hunt for a decent cup of coffee and a real fisherman’s wharf.  Like where locals go to buy their produce and seafood.  We finally found a little aisle of realness, with cheap (er) seafood for sale and not a clown in sight.&lt;br /&gt;We were lured into an old style seafood restaurant for lunch where Jason had his first (and last) crab and sourdough bread sandwich that made him feel sick.  The restaurant was great though.  A real 1930s, Italian mobster feel and a gorgeous view of the Golden Gate Bridge (on a clear but windy day).&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rhsw20ndCKI/AAAAAAAAAEE/HNXXDXcWx5k/s1600-h/IMG_3363.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rhsw20ndCKI/AAAAAAAAAEE/HNXXDXcWx5k/s320/IMG_3363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051685125421336738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rhsw20ndCKI/AAAAAAAAAEE/HNXXDXcWx5k/s1600-h/IMG_3363.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Fisherman's Wharf - &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;L'il&lt;/span&gt; bit Bored at...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left Fisherman’s wharf shortly after, in search of coffee – as any true west-coaster would.  Amazed at the lack of coffee houses in San Fran.  How do they function?  There’s barely any Starbucks here!  And we don’t even like Starbucks! Found coffee in the Italian district, near our hotel.  The area is chocked full of coffee bars, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;café&lt;/span&gt;’s and exotic car repair shops.  Very European feel.  Beyond the Italian district is Chinatown, which I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; been dying to see since I was doing my thesis.  This is THE Chinatown.  The largest and original overseas Chinese community in North America.  And it is RAW – dirty, chaotic and overcrowded – with laundry hanging from balconies and the scent of fish permeating the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it goes on for miles and miles.  What Jay and I realized, after changing streets to avoid going up a hill (because we’re lazy), was that we were in the real Chinatown.  The Fake Tourist Chinatown was one street over.  The one with the clean streets, streams of lanterns like garlands between the buildings, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;fantasmical&lt;/span&gt; jade and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;cherrywood&lt;/span&gt; sculptures showcased in storefronts.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsyOUndCLI/AAAAAAAAAEM/vqsJTeiKf20/s1600-h/IMG_3377.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsyOUndCLI/AAAAAAAAAEM/vqsJTeiKf20/s320/IMG_3377.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051686628659890354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Chinatown - Uncut&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Miles down the road, and with an abrupt end t&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;o Chinatown signaled by a small Chinese arch, we arrived in Union Square.  &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rhsy10ndCMI/AAAAAAAAAEU/_gOgLg5A6vY/s1600-h/IMG_3380.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rhsy10ndCMI/AAAAAAAAAEU/_gOgLg5A6vY/s320/IMG_3380.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051687307264723138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Shopping.  Up.Scale…  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Chinatown - Hollywood style&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Kenneth Cole, Chanel, Betsey Johnson,  Tiffany, stores with buzzers and guards and brass doors that are polished daily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Macy’s.  The Men’s 5 level mall.  That’s right.  5 levels entirely devoted to men.  The biggest Macy’s on the west coast.  We went up to try on some new suits for Jason.  And it was there that I realized, that we, as Canadians, are being ripped off.  The average suit at Harry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Rosen&lt;/span&gt; in Vancouver is $800-1000.  Average.  At&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macy’s?  $250-400.  For the same quality and same service.  Almost cheaper to fly down to San Fran to buy a suit.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Isn&lt;/span&gt;’t that sad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhszhkndCNI/AAAAAAAAAEc/dOmHvEAK3go/s1600-h/IMG_3395.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhszhkndCNI/AAAAAAAAAEc/dOmHvEAK3go/s320/IMG_3395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051688058883999954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Kissing herself in a Macy's dressing room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We loved the vibe in Union Square.  Pretentious, yes.  But lot’s of fun – and so markedly different from the other areas we walked through today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stopped at a little Italian gem of a restaurant in the Italian district for dinner that was totally family friendly.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Toscana&lt;/span&gt; - on Columbus and Union Street.  Kids menu, highchairs, crayons (that Lily eats on a regular basis) and a cool server dude with white nail polish.  Jay and I reminisced over dinner of the days of wearing white nail polish just because we felt like it, over a bottle of fabulously under priced wine.  Then headed back to the hotel at 7.  We stopped a liquor store for another bottle of wine.  Because what else are you going to do if you’re kid goes to sleep at 7:30pm?  We bought a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Ravenswood&lt;/span&gt; wine that sells for $40 at home for $7.75. Canadians - Ripped.  Off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m staying in San Francisco forever.  Ha ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-8752711941062009662?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/8752711941062009662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=8752711941062009662&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8752711941062009662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8752711941062009662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/04/san-fran-or-bust-cont-again.html' title='San Fran or Bust – Cont again'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rhsw20ndCKI/AAAAAAAAAEE/HNXXDXcWx5k/s72-c/IMG_3363.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-6594805638700506393</id><published>2007-04-09T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-10T00:02:17.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'>San Francisco or Bust - Cont.</title><content type='html'>Believe if or not – we made it to San Francisco.  According to MapQuest, a 15 hour jaunt down the I-5.  So it took us 2 days. Whatever.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsicEndCII/AAAAAAAAAD0/JMxcxw6K6lU/s1600-h/IMG_3358.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsicEndCII/AAAAAAAAAD0/JMxcxw6K6lU/s320/IMG_3358.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051669272697047170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riding in Style at the Sleep Inn (Roseburg, OR)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day two was a dream compared to the 1st.  No fleeting temptations to pull a U-ee and head straight back to Canada, today.  With teething baby at bay, we made it all the way.  Another 10pm arrival time – but this time Lily was asleep.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drove through a bunch of pretty towns in Oregon – including Portland.  All green, luscious, volcanic.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsjVEndCJI/AAAAAAAAAD8/aYDIHlYQkgA/s1600-h/IMG_3360.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsjVEndCJI/AAAAAAAAAD8/aYDIHlYQkgA/s320/IMG_3360.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051670251949590674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mount Hood - Volcanic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A central American vibe.  Kept expecting coffee plantations and monkeys.  Portland was interesting.  1% of development must go to the arts and a rapid transit system (MAX) was built to link communities before the communities were built.  Smart.  So very green little city and quite the model for dev’t of the future.  We will explore more on the way back.  Specially since I am obsessed with revitalization of old buildings at the moment.  (last week it was corn starch take out containers) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stopped in a gorgeous town called Ashland, an hour or so north of the CA border.  Just for gas.  But ended up spending two hours there.  GORGIOUS town.  Lots of old houses, lively historic downtown core and real earthy feel.  Big park in the centre of town that we stopped at for a fabulous organic lunch (my fav).  Played in the park afterwards with 7 year old Genevieve Strawberry Shortcake.  Seriously.  She was one of those mothering type kids that follows your kid around everywhere and gives you a little break from entertaining.  Love.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lily was cute at the park.  She’s bold and social and loves going up to groups of people and staring at them until they tell her she’s cute.  If they talk to her, she will NEVER leave.  She kept bugging this family picnicking with Kentucky Fried Chicken.  KFC is not worth lurking around for.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Didn’t stop again until dinner at IHOP in Vacalla,CA.  Our waitress accidentally spit out a tooth when she came to check up on us.  She said it was a tic tac.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one glitch in our San Fran or bust trip so far was the Bay Bridge into San Fran.  Traffic was horrid.  Even at 8:30 at night.  Backed up for miles.  To get into San Fran, you have to cross the Bay Bridge – which is tolled ($4).  There’s no signs of costs or methods of payment leading up to the bridge.  But Jay and I thought, if you can use credit card at the Coquihala, you can use credit card anywhere.  Nuh-unh.  Our first breath of San Fran air is tainted by a $30 ticket for having no cash to pay for our toll fare.  Jason’s going to write the mayor.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our hotel, the Columbus Inn, is 10 minutes from Fisherman’s Warf.  In the Italian District.  There’s no continental breakfast here.  But a separate room for Lily.  And a guy at the front desk who talks like Borat.  And has a hangy mole.  Everyone here seems to have hangy moles.  Solid gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rhs2REndCOI/AAAAAAAAAEk/_XyU-7rz22Y/s1600-h/IMG_3372.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rhs2REndCOI/AAAAAAAAAEk/_XyU-7rz22Y/s320/IMG_3372.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051691073951041762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tree at Columbus Inn.  Nicer than outside of hotel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-6594805638700506393?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/6594805638700506393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=6594805638700506393&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6594805638700506393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6594805638700506393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/04/san-francisco-or-bust-cont.html' title='San Francisco or Bust - Cont.'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsicEndCII/AAAAAAAAAD0/JMxcxw6K6lU/s72-c/IMG_3358.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-8839026634690078786</id><published>2007-04-09T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T21:46:06.768-07:00</updated><title type='text'>San Francisco or Bust</title><content type='html'>The official name of our vacay.  The fam decided to take a roadtrip down to San Fran for a week this April.  Yes.  Sounds romantic and adventurous doesn't it?  Not quite so much with el Lily Tornado in tow.  Some highlights along the way...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 1 &lt;br /&gt;Day 1 was a bust.  Summed up best in a haiku.  (naturally).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two hour border&lt;br /&gt;Lily teething - premolars&lt;br /&gt;Gravol doesn't work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12 hours in the car.   Shitloads of traffic in Seattle.  Nasty rest stops (Lily HATED these bathroom stops - bad vibes).  And I'm serious about the 2 hour lineup at the border.  And that was Sumas!  It was 3 at Peace Arch.  Actually pretty fun at the border.  Lily and I got out and walked on the side of the road by the lineup of cars.  Like a true queen, she waved at every single car on our walk.  And you know what? Every single driver waved back.  Even the grumpy truckers.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;And I really should give some time to what was undoubtedly the grossest Denny’s in North America.  Somewhere'sville Oregon.  Original ‘70s décor (carpet and upolstuery), orginal waitresses and dirty dirty everything.  I actually felt like barfing after leaving.  But what a little piece of American heaven there.   Great people.  Great service.  Too bad about the dirty restaurant and dirty food.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsUCUndCHI/AAAAAAAAADs/kfk6L9Mpjt4/s1600-h/IMG_3353.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsUCUndCHI/AAAAAAAAADs/kfk6L9Mpjt4/s320/IMG_3353.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051653437152626802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Made it to Roseburg, Oregon at 10pm that night.  With a dirty, greasy,  overtired (and awake baby).  Sleep Inn.  Continental included.  We heart free breakfast.  We easy to please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-8839026634690078786?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/8839026634690078786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=8839026634690078786&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8839026634690078786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/8839026634690078786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/04/san-francisco-or-bust.html' title='San Francisco or Bust'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhsUCUndCHI/AAAAAAAAADs/kfk6L9Mpjt4/s72-c/IMG_3353.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-3348215972248153408</id><published>2007-03-18T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-01T23:02:11.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tug of War</title><content type='html'>Why I love being a mama...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rf4qcTlOG0I/AAAAAAAAADQ/jtuTzKN1Lbw/s1600-h/IMG_3340.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rf4qcTlOG0I/AAAAAAAAADQ/jtuTzKN1Lbw/s320/IMG_3340.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043515298482625346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Gardening&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Why I miss being an archaeologist....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rf4nBTlOGzI/AAAAAAAAADI/slRhqi5Mg4o/s1600-h/1+eagle+point+flower+from+midden.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rf4nBTlOGzI/AAAAAAAAADI/slRhqi5Mg4o/s320/1+eagle+point+flower+from+midden.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043511536091274034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This is a 1300 year old sunflower that my colleague down in the Colorado just found.  I was supposed to be there.  :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;xo&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/29660163-3348215972248153408?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/3348215972248153408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=3348215972248153408&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3348215972248153408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3348215972248153408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/03/tug-of-war.html' title='Tug of War'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rf4qcTlOG0I/AAAAAAAAADQ/jtuTzKN1Lbw/s72-c/IMG_3340.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-1828731692813130871</id><published>2007-03-14T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T07:44:13.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer of Regression</title><content type='html'>I think there comes a time in every parent's life where we crave carelessness, a lack of responsibilities.   And consequences?  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Pshhhh&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A time where we can once again work to buy clothes, take off to a weekend long concert with a bathing suit and $20 in our back pocket, and go to a pub without planning 3 weeks in advance.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ahhh&lt;/span&gt;, the sweet smell of regression...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why I've decided that this summer is my 'Summer of Regression - 2007 (Volume I)'.  With amendments of course (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ie&lt;/span&gt; Lily, Babysitters, Work).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture barbecues, summer trips,  girls weekends away, camping, outdoor concerts, laying on the beach, throwing back &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bellini's&lt;/span&gt; at Milestones.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ahhhh&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I dreaming?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. Not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;But I've neglected to mention little &lt;a href="http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/06/taz.html"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Taz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, who I will likely be chasing around with beer in hand at these barbecues, summer trips, camping, beaches and Milestones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhCWTz9UcnI/AAAAAAAAADc/Qr9n0wgxQpw/s1600-h/IMG_3328.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhCWTz9UcnI/AAAAAAAAADc/Qr9n0wgxQpw/s200/IMG_3328.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5048700449391407730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Speaking of Milestones - commence poor segue way... Jay and I met some buddies at the Boathouse restaurant in White Rock for an early dinner &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;tonite&lt;/span&gt;.  I ordered Lily a Kid's sized Caesar salad and salmon.  Apparently she likes Caesar salad - but not the salad bit, as she proceeded to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;suck&lt;/span&gt; the dressing off the lettuce leaves and drop them on the floor. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Mmmmmmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;.   So. appetizing.    Sure makes me want to order her Caesar salad again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, it seems as though Lily has also been feeling the same way as me.  Burdened by the stress and overbearing responsibilities of 14 months, she too has gone the way of Regress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lily brought in her first year with some major milestones: walking, saying a number of words (Mama, Papa, nose, yes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bubba&lt;/span&gt; (bottle and grandpa) wow eh, hi), basic algebra - the usual.  But has now decided that growing older is a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So about a month ago, she stopped saying everything.  Every single one of those seven words.  To be subsequently replaced with endless babble and barking.  At every creature that even slightly resembles a dog including butterflies and ducks.  And people's bellybuttons.  Not too sure about the second one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we're at this play group with a bunch of kids the same age as Lily last weekend.  They're all walking, asking for more food, using cutlery, and signing please and thank-you (I'm not joking) while Lily's in the corner, in downward dog position (yes, she still does that), barking at air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhCW-j9UcoI/AAAAAAAAADk/B9skzHPY3Ik/s1600-h/Lily+close-up.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhCW-j9UcoI/AAAAAAAAADk/B9skzHPY3Ik/s200/Lily+close-up.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5048701183830815362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All hail your regression, baby cakes. You keep barking and sucking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Caesar&lt;/span&gt; dressing off lettuce as long as you want.  Because I know how you feel. And staying young at heart forever is what keeps 'Summer of Regression - 2007 (Volume I)' alive....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Lxo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-1828731692813130871?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/1828731692813130871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=1828731692813130871&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/1828731692813130871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/1828731692813130871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/03/summer-of-regression.html' title='Summer of Regression'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RhCWTz9UcnI/AAAAAAAAADc/Qr9n0wgxQpw/s72-c/IMG_3328.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-6337970483555720749</id><published>2007-02-27T20:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T20:58:26.823-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lesson's Learned by Laura</title><content type='html'>Lesson #1:  Don't feed a 1-year old sloppy joes.  Ever.  Even if it's super, duper cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/ReUJ9JYWLjI/AAAAAAAAACc/6f7y-YnrcT0/s1600-h/IMG_3237.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/ReUJ9JYWLjI/AAAAAAAAACc/6f7y-YnrcT0/s320/IMG_3237.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036442704378474034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Look ma!  No hands!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/ReUKqZYWLkI/AAAAAAAAACk/xvTBRWXd-Wg/s1600-h/IMG_3243.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/ReUKqZYWLkI/AAAAAAAAACk/xvTBRWXd-Wg/s320/IMG_3243.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036443481767554626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Emergency Bath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;#2: And Yoghurt.  Avoid that one as well.  Deceivingly dirty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/ReULk5YWLlI/AAAAAAAAAC0/3b85EReU6gw/s1600-h/IMG_3264.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/ReULk5YWLlI/AAAAAAAAAC0/3b85EReU6gw/s320/IMG_3264.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036444486789901906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ummmm - Lily?  You missed your mouth.  FIY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lxo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-6337970483555720749?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/6337970483555720749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=6337970483555720749&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6337970483555720749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6337970483555720749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/02/lessons-learned-by-laura.html' title='Lesson&apos;s Learned by Laura'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/ReUJ9JYWLjI/AAAAAAAAACc/6f7y-YnrcT0/s72-c/IMG_3237.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-5391046007731706615</id><published>2007-02-13T22:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T22:45:10.199-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sneakymama Part I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;After Lily's been asleep for a couple of hours, I sneak into her room and give her kisses between the bars of the crib.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RdKuuBDnDGI/AAAAAAAAACQ/w-IIAHRzuOw/s1600-h/IMG_2818.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RdKuuBDnDGI/AAAAAAAAACQ/w-IIAHRzuOw/s320/IMG_2818.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031275839307058274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The Sleepy Victim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;Lxo&lt;/span&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/29660163-5391046007731706615?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/5391046007731706615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=5391046007731706615&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/5391046007731706615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/5391046007731706615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/02/sneakymama-part-i.html' title='Sneakymama Part I'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RdKuuBDnDGI/AAAAAAAAACQ/w-IIAHRzuOw/s72-c/IMG_2818.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-5649817375352974394</id><published>2007-02-11T00:57:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-11T00:57:43.336-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Experiment in Video</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eL21g7lwitQ"&gt;Lily eating with Raffi&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favourite clips of Lily - 9 months old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see if this works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lxo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-5649817375352974394?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/5649817375352974394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=5649817375352974394&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/5649817375352974394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/5649817375352974394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/02/experiment-in-video.html' title='Experiment in Video'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-6784876642765504949</id><published>2007-02-03T22:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-11T11:57:45.228-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Profilin' Part Deux</title><content type='html'>Back by popular demand.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Profilin&lt;/span&gt; Lily at 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Likes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rc7RmBDnDDI/AAAAAAAAABo/ujhAJkc5kbs/s1600-h/IMG_3129.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rc7RmBDnDDI/AAAAAAAAABo/ujhAJkc5kbs/s200/IMG_3129.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030188284868234290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mama, Papa (screams when he leaves the room), Frozen grapes,  Todd (all three), vacuuming, date &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nite&lt;/span&gt; at Craig and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Jani's&lt;/span&gt;, Parties that she thinks are for her (but aren't), Mac eyeshadow containers, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Granma's&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Granpa's&lt;/span&gt;, cousins, aunts, uncles, eating things off the floor, standing at the top of the stairs, puppet shows, carrying heavy objects, such as bottles of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pelligrino&lt;/span&gt; and garbage cans around the house (weird), &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;bathtime&lt;/span&gt; with Paps, bottles, Dawson, babies (especially &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Maddock&lt;/span&gt;), dogs, barking like a dog and books about dogs, hanging &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;upside down&lt;/span&gt;, eating rocks at the park, swings,&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rc7R7BDnDEI/AAAAAAAAABw/tuxuwcAoZ4A/s1600-h/IMG_2964.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rc7R7BDnDEI/AAAAAAAAABw/tuxuwcAoZ4A/s200/IMG_2964.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030188645645487170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; walking (especially naked), Winnie the pooh (groan), Baby &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Einstein&lt;/span&gt;, Sesame Street (a girl after my own heart), talking to anything that resembles a phone except a phone, sucking on toothpaste tubes, walking with objects in her mouth, Little People, Daycare lady, anything in a fridge, stealing this fairy figurine I have on a shelf in the office and running away with it, even though she gets in trouble for it every time, high fives, putting her finger on the lens of cameras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dislikes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting dressed, hunger, being yanked from the top of the stairs, getting her nose wiped and nails clipped, not being able to have a bath with Todd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Indifference:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading anything other than dog books, getting her photo taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rc7SVRDnDFI/AAAAAAAAAB4/VUJZAovY0HE/s1600-h/IMG_3197.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rc7SVRDnDFI/AAAAAAAAAB4/VUJZAovY0HE/s200/IMG_3197.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5030189096617053266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;SABOTAGE&lt;/span&gt;!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;LXO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/29660163-6784876642765504949?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/6784876642765504949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=6784876642765504949&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6784876642765504949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/6784876642765504949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/02/profilin-part-deux.html' title='Profilin&apos; Part Deux'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/Rc7RmBDnDDI/AAAAAAAAABo/ujhAJkc5kbs/s72-c/IMG_3129.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-3328159245664642309</id><published>2007-02-01T21:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-11T20:19:29.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mom stereotypes</title><content type='html'>I'm procrastinating again.  Should be finishing up a Fengshui report for a client.  But writing here instead.  This is much better....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Found this quote today on my favourite blog:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://girlsgonechild.blogspot.com/2006/08/on-past-and-present-futures.html"&gt;"I am not and never will be defined by motherhood, but I will wholeheartedly admit that motherhood has inspired and enabled me to define myself."&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always had a problem with the 'mom' stereotype.  'Soccer mom', 'minivan', 'mombum', 'mom hair' - I even wince at 'Mommy' - it's my cryptonite.  A girlfriend of mine, while I was still pregnant and picking out purses to match my new baby's outfits, called me the 'Antimom', which I kind of liked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The idea of being a mom, I guess in a way felt like I was settling, like I was expected to give up everything that meant anything to me so I could become this sitcom mom - who would bake homemade cookies, organize my photo albums and throw a fabulous birthday party** while still keeping the house clean and the husband happy.  I guess I felt like I would have to redefine myself because of my child.  In essence, losing everything that I had taken so long to discover!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Like would I have to stay home on Saturday nights?  Drink near beer and order in pizza?  Hang out with other mom's and complain about how tired I am? How Lily just won't eat her vegetables and my latest fight with Jason?  Would I find endless joy in talking about my daughter's latest ballet recital to anyone who would listen?  Would I start saying 'darnit' instead of 'mother f*cker'?  Would I feel the urge to take a scrapbooking class, and decoupage my daughter's lunch box?  Gain the 'freshmom'*** 15.  Shop at Northern Reflections, Rockport?  Would I suddenly feel adverse to words like 'spontaneous',  'interesting' and 'adventure'?  Would a Hawaiian vacation be considered the new 'Third world country backpacking trek?  Would I have to give up my career?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Lily was born, I was surprised to *quickly* find out that I didn't want to  lose myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I drink wine with dinner, the house is messy and fights with Jason are brief and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; private.  Luckily, I'm still totally inappropriate and crude.    Lily is completely comfortable with &lt;a href="http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/08/lily-heart-camping.html"&gt;camping&lt;/a&gt; and 'sleepovers' and mam and paps friend's houses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RcLpfNoSnFI/AAAAAAAAAA4/gdaUz2xZsC8/s1600-h/IMG_2924.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RcLpfNoSnFI/AAAAAAAAAA4/gdaUz2xZsC8/s200/IMG_2924.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026836856542764114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Shhhhh! The baby's sleeping!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;She was even out in the field with me starting at two months.  And whenever it's a clear night, and I can see the stars, the only place I want to be at that moment is out digging, in the middle of some snake infested semi-desert in Colorado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what Lily has brought to me is clarity.  Clarity for who I love.  Who I want to spend time with.  And clarity of what type of life I want to lead.  In her short one year, she's taught me that I don't need to define myself as a mom, or a wife, or a daughter, cousin, aunt, grandaughter, or a friend. Or even an archaeologist.   Because what Jason and I are to her without  all these roles and expectations is perfect and pure in her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RcLoX9oSnEI/AAAAAAAAAAw/S52SJWR2JBA/s1600-h/IMG_3055.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RcLoX9oSnEI/AAAAAAAAAAw/S52SJWR2JBA/s200/IMG_3055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026835632477084738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Floor party&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with my trowel in one pocket, a bottle in the other, and her on my hip, we trudge off into the dusty sunset - on a new adventure not quite as clearly defined...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Lily's 1st birthday on January 27th went well.  45 people, 12 kids, 9 of which under 5 and a beaming Lily, toddling endlessly around the party, with her belly in the lead.  Food cemented in her hair and jacked-up on her first piece of cake saying 'hi' and 'wow' to anyone who caught her eye.  Will update with pictures shortly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*** I just made that up - damn I'm clever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-3328159245664642309?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/3328159245664642309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=3328159245664642309&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3328159245664642309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3328159245664642309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/02/mom-stereotypes.html' title='Mom stereotypes'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RcLpfNoSnFI/AAAAAAAAAA4/gdaUz2xZsC8/s72-c/IMG_2924.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-3048438730100002055</id><published>2007-01-18T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T23:54:36.176-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Harem of Todd</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Baby Couture 2006/07: Todd Frog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RbBwn3_unBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5qB9EvTTF7o/s1600-h/IMG_2674.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RbBwn3_unBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5qB9EvTTF7o/s200/IMG_2674.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021637414866557970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's funny how somebody so young can get so attached to some random inanimate creature who's goofy expression never changes.  Maybe that's half the charm of Todd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todd made his debut in our lives from an old colleague of Jason's when Lily was born.  He wasn't necessarily the cutest stuffed toy, nor the most cuddly, but somehow remained one of the few stuffed animals ever-present in Lily's crib as a wee babe.  I think it was mostly because he best matched the rest of the decor in her room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todd is a &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1914.jpg"&gt;frog&lt;/a&gt; - aptly named by Lily's Aunt Shelley.  He has a disproportionately large head, beady little black eyes, and a tuft of green wool projecting from the top of his head.  He smells like baby powder 100% of the time and has a little rattle in his head.  We often hear Todd's head rattle before we hear Lily wake up.  Like a rattlesnake's warning before he strikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Her attachment to Todd developed slowly.  First he had to be in the crib with her in the morning when she woke up.  Then she couldn't fall asleep without him.  This turned into Todd coming on Every. Single. Vacation. this past year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RbByb3_unCI/AAAAAAAAAAY/v-3bz2M5a_M/s1600-h/IMG_2596.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RbByb3_unCI/AAAAAAAAAAY/v-3bz2M5a_M/s200/IMG_2596.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021639407731383330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Todd, Lily and Mookie on vacation in Edmonton - Oct 06&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally Todd became 'Dirty Todd'  - after umpteen camping trips and dirt baths followed by numerous 'let's see if Todd can swim in the lake' experiments.  And naturally, the pressure was on  to find another Todd because:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. DT was starting to look like a Street-frog and&lt;br /&gt;2. life would positively end for Lily if Todd was lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a funny thing - mat leave.  Sometimes there's not much to do during the day.  So having a *Quest* can be exciting, exhilarating.  (believe me).  My quest to find more Todds was exhausting.  I contacted Jay's colleague, who couldn't remember where she'd bought him.  I checked every toy store, toy department  and mall kiosk in the lower mainland.  I checked online.  I phoned the Manufacturer.  No Todd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally months later, on a random outing to Coquitlam Centre, I found Todd - in clearance, at the Bay.  I quickly bought up the remaining stock (2) and headed back with my freshly scented Todd booty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lily of course, had no clue there was three, because I always hid the other two.  When it became apparent that she didn't care if she had one or one hundred, Todds started appearing in various locales around the house; the trunk of the car, laundry baskets, underneath the couch, in bags, the crib, the fridge.  It looked like aftermath of a bloody war of Todd's in our house, with lifeless mint coloured frogs strewn everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The omnipotence of Todd has had some lasting effects on her because now, not one but at least TWO Todds have to be with her at all times.  She can only fall asleep with two Todds*.  Todd has to be squished up to my face when I'm carrying her around while out and about.  And we &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt; pull over the car if Todd accidentally falls out of her carseat.&lt;br /&gt;It's imperative that Todd be in the high chair with her, and she loses her shit if Todd isn't hanging on the shower rod while she's having a bath.  Lately, she's been difficult to even get in the bath because she wants Todd in there with her, and screams if we take him away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RbBzr3_unDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/gUW1FZRbeH0/s1600-h/IMG_3004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RbBzr3_unDI/AAAAAAAAAAg/gUW1FZRbeH0/s200/IMG_3004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5021640782120918066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Mourning the 'No Todd in the Bathtub' rule - 12 months&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Daycare lady has expressed her concern over Lily's attachment to Todd - stating how difficult it is to pry him away from her at lunch time.    How she screams when one of the kids has hidden him from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I personally think it's sweet. And handy.  I know when she wakes up by his rattle, I know she's tired when she starts pulling at the tags on his bum.   And I know that calmness will ensue once she has Todd in her arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most importantly, I know that the consideration and love she's showing for Todd is something she learned from us...  And I'm reassured that her attachment is not too 'Fatal Attraction' by the fact that her first words were 'Mama' and 'Papa'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And not Todd....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M+D:1   vs.  Todd:1499&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;* I just had to stop writing because Lily woke up screaming for her second Todd.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-3048438730100002055?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/3048438730100002055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=3048438730100002055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3048438730100002055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/3048438730100002055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/01/harem-of-todd.html' title='The Harem of Todd'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/RbBwn3_unBI/AAAAAAAAAAM/5qB9EvTTF7o/s72-c/IMG_2674.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-116798559485423282</id><published>2007-01-04T23:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T00:34:27.703-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Influenza of 2006</title><content type='html'>This time last year, Jay and I were sitting on the couch, looking at eachother (annoyed), waiting for Lily.  And waiting.  And waiting.  According to my original Christmas due date, she was over 10 days late.  I was also irritated that I didn't win the 'First Baby of the Year' contest, because as everyone who knows me knows, I heart gifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now exactly one year later,  I'm sitting here blogging when what I should be doing is sending out invitations to Lily's 1st Birthday party....   which is in a week....&lt;br /&gt;That's what she gets for being late.  No party for you!!  ha ha.  KIDDING! (I'm having a Hawaiian Lu'au, by the way)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let's me talk about the Christmas season (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;assume Italian accent&lt;/span&gt;).  We had lots of great plans - a wedding, office parties, playdates, trips to the Stanley Park train, presents, family get-togethers.  Sounds perfect right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6765/3165/1600/355478/IMG_2866.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6765/3165/200/367413/IMG_2866.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Lily resting after tying the Christmas tree to the roof.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So this is what we get:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i)  Storm blows down 3000 trees in Stanley Park - no Christmas Train&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ii) Another storm causes power outage on night of big Christmas party - no party&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;iii)  We visit good friends just getting over flu - Me, Jason then Lily subsequently get flu two days before Christmas.  Lily's lasts for 2 weeks - no wedding*, no playdates, family get-together's infect 6 family members + 3 girls at a sleepover I held for BFF Lesley on the 28th.  We are essentially sequestered at home with the bug-mesiter the ENTIRE 2 weeks.  Lesley - who *may* have caught the flu from Lily has to subsequently cancel a baby shower, baptism (of which she was Godmother) and almost a big New Year's party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;iv)  Jason, who doesn't usually start Christmas shopping until the week before Christmas, and who is now stuck at home with the Poltergeist baby can't get Christmas shopping done.  This makes him grumpy.  For two weeks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;v) Relief by all three of us to go back to work/daycare.  RELIEF.  From our holidays.  ha ha ha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How funny is that Christmas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as hard as multiple trips to the doctor, changing at least 6000 crappy diapers with a smell so wretched it melted my nail polish, hiding pedialite popsicle bits in her cheerios and taking on yet another 'Barf Night Shift' were, the smile  on her face when she saw her grandparents, cousins, aunts/uncles and favourite boozy aunts over Christmas** made it well worth  the smell and laundry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What also helped was the Composter and Coach bag that I got for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can make dirt and head out for a night on the town in style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE OUT THERE.  Here's hoping it's an awesome-fest of success, love and new adventures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lxo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS.  Will post more pictures with this blog shortly.  Too lazy to download tonite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*Lily threw-up for the first time in the car on the way out to the ferry to my cousin's wedding in Victoria.  We had to turn around and come home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** all of whom she infected with The Flu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-116798559485423282?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/116798559485423282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=116798559485423282&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116798559485423282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116798559485423282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2007/01/christmas-influenza-of-2006.html' title='Christmas Influenza of 2006'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-116649836501442086</id><published>2006-12-18T16:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T00:47:03.376-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anti Pooh</title><content type='html'>I have taken extreme measures to keep Winnie the Pooh out of my house.  Not because I don't like him or because I find him and his colourful buddies offensive...  Really it's because Pooh was around when I was a kid.  Before marketing and branding and before Winnie the Pooh adorned every. single. infant thing imaginable.  There's Pooh stuffed animals, Pooh clothing, movies, books, dishes, bottles.  Even diapers have Mr. Pooh emblazoned on them.  Oh the irony...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winnie the Pooh was a special little cartoon for me when I was a kid that wasn't yet ruined by Disney.  Ariel and Belle came out in the prime of Disney marketing.  I expected Ariel and Belle houseware.  They were doomed from day 1.  But Pooh?  Come on.     Just leave him alone in the unmarketed 1970s where he belongs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I invested a lot of time sifting through Pooh newborn clothes, pitching Pooh handmedowns and giving away all Pooh related presents*   And I was proud to say that I didn't own a single Pooh embellished item.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a few months ago, my parents, brother and fam head up to Gran's for Thanksgiving and we stop at Costco in Kamloops.  My mom has Lily in her arms and takes her into the toy section (her first mistake).  They're gone for a long time and when we finally reconnect, Lily has a massive smile on her face and is holding onto a GIANT stuffed Pooh Bear.  My WORST nightmare realized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to my mom, there was some major shrieking involved when she saw the abomination.  And yes.  The bear was coming home with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one condition...  The bear was to stay at Granma and Granpas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this dumb overstuffed beanbag is now one of Lily's favourite stuffed animals.  She spends oodles of time dragging its sorry yellow ass around my parent's living room and burying her face into its permanent black grin.  Oy vey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to December.  I'm out at some heritage meeting, and Jay is doing some shopping at Canadian Tire.  I get home after she's in bed and head into the kitchen to get a popsicle**.  And crumpled up on the floor is another GIANT stuffed Pooh bear!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This time it's Tigger. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And this time it's ours...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason rolled his eyes when I brought it out to him in the living room.   Apparently he was shopping for tools or some other Canadian Tire-esque item when suddenly, Lily started to scream.  He thought maybe she hit her head on something, maybe caught her hand in a display...  No.  She was screaming for a whole bin of GIANT Pooh stuffed animals.  She wouldn't stop until he picked one out of the bin and gave it to her.  And then he bought it - fully aware of the No-Pooh rule in our house...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I see it, it's like giant orange wart in our house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sense some bad patterns emerging from the above events:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a.  Lily seems to intuitively know and seek out everything that I don't like and try to avoid.   She's going to want a pet slug - I just know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b.  Lily knows that her paps and grandparents will get her what she wants if shrieking is involved.  That shit don't work with me.  Unless it's something I want as well.  Which is why she's never shrieked for Pooh around me. And why she has a lot of shoes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;c.  Stores that place massive bins of overstuffed animals are mean and should be boycotted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank god the Giant Tigger was only $9.97....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6765/3165/1600/802628/IMG_2454.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6765/3165/200/332851/IMG_2454.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Lily with a GIANT turnip.  Much more fun than a GIANT Pooh, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*except Pooh storybooks - those are gold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;**I have a popsicle every single night.  And I wonder why my pants don't fit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-116649836501442086?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/116649836501442086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=116649836501442086&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116649836501442086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116649836501442086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/12/anti-pooh.html' title='Anti Pooh'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-116608166065374288</id><published>2006-12-13T22:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T23:38:42.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Train of Thought</title><content type='html'>So.... I'm feeling much better about this whole back to work thing.  Today when I was on the skytrain coming home and three separate whackos got on and off the train whilst yelling at other passengers, pacing skittishly and sleeping with an unlit smoke in their mouth,*  I had an epiphany about going back to work and who I surround myself with on a daily basis.  Becasue really, when it comes down to it- I love the spinning, the rat race, the night life (I like to boogy).  I love my job, my family, friends etc.  But when I was at home I had choices.  Choices of who I wanted to see each day (minus Lily - but she doesn't count) or if I wanted to see anyone at all.  So naturally, I surrounded myself with people I really like and admire and respect.  And for the most part, I was completely stress free and happy (but a little bored).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now - back at work, I don't have that option.  A few of the people I see 20+ hours a week at work are not people I would choose to call up to go for a walk to get a slurpee or browse an antique mall.  (some of them I would, however).  Just like how I did NOT want to spend a minute with those folks on the train - yet I was stuck with them for 40 minutes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's all so complicated and strategic after a babe is born.  But worth it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6765/3165/1600/252553/IMG_2385.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6765/3165/200/713681/IMG_2385.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*At one point they all starting interacting - all  tripping out on different poisons (heroin, meth and booze).  Felt like I was in an episode of Intervention.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-116608166065374288?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/116608166065374288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=116608166065374288&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116608166065374288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116608166065374288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/12/train-of-thought.html' title='Train of Thought'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-116435573380473890</id><published>2006-11-23T23:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-24T00:08:53.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dis...Con..Nected</title><content type='html'>I'm in this odd place in life right now where I feel disconnected with everything and everyone - not quite in the groove with anything.  Like I'm that person at the back of an aerobics class who's doing every move offbeat and opposite to everyone else*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not necessarily negative - I just don't  feel in the groove with anyone.  I rarely spend any time alone with Jason, I'm not with Lily every second of the day anymore because of work, and yet not really at work enough to be in tune with the nuances of everyday at the office.  And things/ events are happening with friends and family and I'm the last to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just feels like everything is spinning around me and I'm just waiting to try to jump on.  It just never feels like the right time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandpa passed away on Tuesday, while I was on a business trip in Kelowna.  I have yet to tell my close friends, my boss.  I haven't even cried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;adored&lt;/span&gt; my Grandpa and will miss him so much.  I'll miss his bee-parts honey, and his velcro shoes.  I'll miss him calling me Pete and his jokes he read about in the Reader's Digest.  I'll even miss how he used to drive 40 in an 80 zone, swearing at everyone who whipped by him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So really, maybe its me who's spinning.   Spinning so fast that no one or no emotion is able to get on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gawd - get me off of this ride called life.... ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*An actual even at my last Kickboxing class&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-116435573380473890?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/116435573380473890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=116435573380473890&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116435573380473890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116435573380473890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/11/disconnected.html' title='Dis...Con..Nected'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-116114706098341543</id><published>2006-10-17T21:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T21:51:01.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dinosaurs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If Lily at 9 months was a dinosaur....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She'd be living in the Cheeriozoic Era.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For realzies... They're everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2555.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2555.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-116114706098341543?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/116114706098341543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=116114706098341543&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116114706098341543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116114706098341543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/10/dinosaurs.html' title='Dinosaurs'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-116012174220884971</id><published>2006-10-06T00:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T01:02:22.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Howling a Milestone</title><content type='html'>Just as I was heading off to my first Art Night* with gals, Lily went and pulled off a major milestone. Standing up on her own in her crib. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time I stood up in my crib, I was apparently so excited that it took my parents hours to calm me down.  Lily?  Not so much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Lily could talk, I'm sure she would be saying "Oooooouuuuuuttttt - Get me out of this frickin' JAIL!"&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2448.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2448.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*Premiere night of sitting around painting bad pictures with good friends.  Will scan first 'fridge art' shortly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-116012174220884971?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/116012174220884971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=116012174220884971&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116012174220884971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116012174220884971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/10/howling-milestone.html' title='Howling a Milestone'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-116012122302426737</id><published>2006-10-06T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T01:08:44.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AD Crawling</title><content type='html'>Had my first taste of life after crawling the other day. In one afternoon before friend Sandi came to stay for the weekend Lily*:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2416.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2416.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Barbie Boot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Pulled apart one of my favourite plants&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fell on her head on the hardwood floor.  Twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stood up (for the first time on her own) at the base of the stairs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2443.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2443.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Actual shot of First Unassisted Stance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Fell back from standing position and hit head on corner of highchair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fell off bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ate soap from soap dispenser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got fever of 103- which according to Poison Control hotline, was not related to soap eating episode&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Developed rash all over legs  - again, not related to soap or fever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the day I also removed the following items from her mouth: a washer, a pebble, dirt from said destroyed plant, gum wrapper, plastic from drycleaning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I will enjoy being back at work more than I anticipate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*Please note that this is under close supervision and that I am not a just a bad and negligent mam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-116012122302426737?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/116012122302426737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=116012122302426737&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116012122302426737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116012122302426737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/10/ad-crawling.html' title='AD Crawling'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-116012020302533621</id><published>2006-10-05T23:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T00:36:43.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daycare and Ornithology</title><content type='html'>So what happened with 'back to work'? As expected the first day back to work was a tad emotional. Jay and I both dropped Lily off with Daycare Lady. We staggered into her house with a duffel bag full of Lily's life and enough food to feed everyone at daycare for a week, plunked Lily on the floor next to a giant puzzle of Calliou and left before Daycare Lady could see us BOTH crying. Lily looked down the hall at us like "See ya, mo fo's".&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2446.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2446.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;First Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came back to pick her up six hours later. I studied her once we got home - did a mental checklist in my head. Clothes all on and clean? Check. Food wiped off of face? Check. No signs of mental anguish? Check. She looked fine. Was acting like herself - spazzy yet jovial. Yet something was arwry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours later I realized what it was. Lily smelled different. Like someone else's house. Someone else's smell that I was unfamiliar with. Not an unpleasant smell -kind of like a springy fresh detergent. I felt like putting her in the bath, maybe rubbing some of my body lotion in her hair. And suddenly I felt rather like a mother bird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when you were a kid and your mom told you never to pick up baby birds because the mother bird would smell you on their bird and wouldn't want it anymore? Ok - simmah down now- not that extreme - I just felt a little pang of her first break from me. And for the first time I wanted to shout out for the world to stop, for time to stop. And for her to just stay 8.5 months forever. I'll deal with an eternity of crappy diapers, mall meltdowns and fights to get into the carseat if I can just keep her 100% mine. So she will always smell like Johnson's baby wash, cocoabutter lotion and these cheapo Zeller's baby wipes that smell like baby powder heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2423.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2423.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;OK, you can stop growing up, right now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;L&lt;/span&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/29660163-116012020302533621?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/116012020302533621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=116012020302533621&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116012020302533621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/116012020302533621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/10/daycare-and-ornithology.html' title='Daycare and Ornithology'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-115882278760579462</id><published>2006-09-20T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T00:13:11.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's off to Work I Go!</title><content type='html'>I sing this title with enthusiasm and positivism but frankly I'm scared crapless to head back to work. After 9 months at home it's back to early morning risings, hair and makeup, ironing, clients, meetings, writing, researching, skytrain, blah blah blah. And THINKING??!!! Gah!&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I'm excited to go back to work. *Love* my job, *love* my boss and co-workers. But then there's Lily...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lily will be going to Daycare in a house very close to ours. She will be cared for in a strange house with strange kids and a strange caretaker. A stranger is going to take care of MY baby. Don't we raise our kids to fear strangers? And yet we are perfectly fine to pay them to watch our children? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We visited Daycare Lady for the first time this Tuesday.  She was nice, the room was nice, nice backyard, nice house. nice. nice. nice.  But when we left the house and got in the car, we both felt like barfing.  We're big on vibes, Jay and I -  and we have no qualms leaving a town, restaurant, house, party - you name it we've left it - if we be feelin the bad voodoo vibes.   But we didn't know if it was bad vibes or the fact that Daycare Lady is a Bloody STRANGER.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2331.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2331.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;How will Daycare Lady know that she likes to stand up when she eats, that she lights up when she sits on the grass, that her favourite song is Eensy weensy spider*? How will Daycare lady not get frustrated when Lily spends an hour in downward dog position, taking in the world from upsidedown - instead of napping? How will Daycare Lady know that she's crying in the afternoon because she's bored and wants to see the world from her stroller. And will Daycare Lady care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish for her sake and our family that I was one of those women who was perfectly satiated by grocery shopping and trips to Walmart and playdates - but I'm not. I also wish that I could bring home the bacon and Jay, who is secretly domestic and Mr. Mom, could stay at home with her - but I can't. Archaeology, while one of the 3 loves of my life** does NOT pay the bills and never will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2368.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2368.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess, for now, I will put ALL of my trust into Daycare Lady, my strange Care Taker. And hope with everything that she'll learn to relish in Lily's quirkiness, curiosity and love of life, food and smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if Daycare Lady witnesses her first steps, first words, or first anythings, I don't want to know about it. As far as I'm concerned, all 'firsts' will happen in the family...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*sometimes 'My Little Buttercup' from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Three Amigos&lt;/span&gt;- depending on her mood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;** not including Old Dutch Salt n' Vinegar Chips&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-115882278760579462?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/115882278760579462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=115882278760579462&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115882278760579462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115882278760579462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/09/hi-ho-hi-ho-its-off-to-work-i-go.html' title='Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It&apos;s off to Work I Go!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-115761059638495031</id><published>2006-09-06T23:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T00:18:32.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ATTACK OF THE KILLER TOMATOES!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;AHHHHH!!! They're everywhere!!!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2317.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2317.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;They're creeping in my mouth!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2316.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/320/IMG_2316.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll devise a plan on my highchair table&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2318.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/320/IMG_2318.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throw them into the brown river.  No.  Wait!  They're attacking my hand!! AHHHHHH!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2320.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2320.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE END&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&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/29660163-115761059638495031?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/115761059638495031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=115761059638495031&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115761059638495031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115761059638495031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/09/attack-of-killer-tomatoes.html' title='ATTACK OF THE KILLER TOMATOES!!!'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-115678854193830274</id><published>2006-08-28T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T10:29:50.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lily Heart Camping</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2142.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2142.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She BETTER frickin' heart camping. She had more than enough practice this summer. Like the ADHD mams that I am, I dragged (literally) a reluctant husband, kid and 2 sometimes three carloads of camping equipment/baby stuff deep in the heart of public campsites &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;three&lt;/span&gt; times this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2045.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our first adventure was in Lighting Lakes, Manning Park with Jason's family. It was our 5 year anniversary that July weekend. Not romantic. At. All. But we had a good experience and Jay's family is wonderful and so much fun. Hiking, sitting around the campfire, warming up bottles on the campstove. First experience at 'Family Bed' - but only because it was 4 DEGREES at night and Lily was FREEZING! (It was still nice...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cocky from our first successful run at camping- we repacked our car(s) and headed up to&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2187.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2187.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Castlegar with my family for the 3rd annual Crampout at Terry and Karens - set on the banks of the Columbia River. There was 14 people to watch over Lily besides Jay and I so definitely a highlight of my summah. Fabulous organization by the Hughes (could say it was a Hughes success - groan) - there was a fishing derby*, booze, crafts, booze, a 2nd hand 2nd year anniversary shower, booze, a visit with Granpa P. and Florence and some booze to top it off. Lily had a ball and so did mams and paps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;riling&lt;/span&gt; in our second success. Camping with babe - &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2224.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2224.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;phshhhh - I am SO totally awesome at it. So Lily and I trundle off *without* dad, with friend Isobel to meet best pal Lesley, and Erik, Lisa and Sheldon in Osoyoos at Inkabeep - the smallest desert in the world. Also, the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;closest&lt;/span&gt; camping in the world. Osoyoos is usually a blast. Everything is hot, sweaty, boozy and floaty. Fun for friends. But not so fun for babies. Babies, as it turns out, don't like hot tents. Makes for what I like to call ne nap pas (translation: no naps=nasty baby). Once asleep at night we had a ball. But the days were spent on the shore waiting for Lily to nap while everyone else floated in the lake. We left after 2 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as we are closing out our first summah together, cleaning out the crusty baby food from the tent and packing away the 799 tons of camping equipment, I have compiled a list of Do's a Don't's for those adventurous enough to take a baby camping (it's worth it - really).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. DO take a Pak-and-Play. Babies need their own space and it will piss them off if they are awoken to pump up the stupid queen sized air mattress that always has a leak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  DON'T bring a baby bath.  Likely the baby will be eating dirt again&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2265.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2265.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; immediately after s/he gets out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  DON'T force a baby to go in the water for staged cutesy water shot.  They will be mad and will not nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  DO bring lots of family.  In fact, any family member is welcome to come on every vacation we take from now on.  Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2026.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2026.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;5. DO bring warm clothes for the baby. You're in the wilderness for gods sakes! Sometimes it gets down to 4 DEGREES at night and all you have is 3 Gap long sleeved shirts and some Robeez. Then - you will pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. DO take family members/friends up on bbsitting offers. Relative/friend: "Can I take Lily down to the water to show her the ducks?" You: "Yep!" (Trail of smoke - you on floaty with cold beer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. DON'T put your tent within 50 feet of anyone else. Your baby will then feel claustrophobic and will wake up 79 times during the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. DON'T EVER camp with only one parent. Don't *even* try to think you're a good enough camper. How does holding onto a dirty, sticky, ne nap pas baby so s/he doesn't eat sand/grass bottlecaps, etc, while you sip on your warm beer, with a shitty/sandy diaper in your back pocket for TWO days sound? Yeah - thought so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2198.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2198.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;9. DO bring items to occupy baby's time. Jolly jumpers are the perfect camping accessory. Light, packable and eats up 20mins-1 hour of baby's day! A bucket of rocks also does the trick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. DO have fun and stop worrying about the baby. Even be so bold to step out of the tent, blow out the citronella candle and watch the stars...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If done right, camping with babies (CWB) can be a relaxing and enjoyable getaway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2287.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2287.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*3rd prize for me and first lady to place in 3 years.  Jason and my dad came in 2nd, 1st - same as last year - *snooooozzzee*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-115678854193830274?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/115678854193830274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=115678854193830274&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115678854193830274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115678854193830274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/08/lily-heart-camping.html' title='Lily Heart Camping'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-115675127631508394</id><published>2006-08-28T00:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T00:19:01.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Profilin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2139.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2139.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Every parent tells you about this magic age. When overnight, your stunned newbie becomes a full fledged person. 3 months is apparently the magic number. 3 months came and went with Lily without a Disney infused transformation (you know, the ones with the rags to riches instant makeover, complete with twittling birds, sparkles and that xylophone soundeffect).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't really notice anything remotely remarkable until at least 7 months. Lily has had quite the personality since the moment she was born, looked right at me, lowered her lip into a pout and started to scream. I think, more than anything, that it's taken ME 7 months to really understand her. Here she is in a nutshell:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Likes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1914.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1914.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Paps and Mama, Todd Frog, Screaching like a Taradactyl (pls. ignore spelling), Long strolls on the beach, Cameras, Eating paper, TV converters and cell phones, Jolly jumper and Baby Einstein&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1933.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1933.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; videos, Eensy weensy spider, Exploring, Flower tours, Grandparents, Swimming, Standing ovations, Dawson, Showhomes (and barfing in Showhomes), Gardening in our backyard, Antiquing, Crowds, Sun tan lotion massages, Crampout, Secrets, Girly sleepovers, Big dogs, Native art galleries, Camping, Eating books, Hiking, Mama singing, Lime gelato, Girls, Datenight at Craig and Jani's, Chewing on corncobs, Tylenol, Sou sou's, Bathtime, Escaping Bumbo's (see above)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2174.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2174.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dislikes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Restraining (carseat, stroller), Putting on a bib, Mama checking for teeth, Camping, Sitting in one place, Going to bed, Taking away corncobs, 10 pound diapers (bad M/P), Teething&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Disinterest:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys, Cuddling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-115675127631508394?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/115675127631508394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=115675127631508394&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115675127631508394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115675127631508394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/08/profilin.html' title='Profilin&apos;'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-115515394528883026</id><published>2006-08-09T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T00:19:55.333-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Greenpeace, I'm sorry...</title><content type='html'>Started the summah off in a car accident. Some dude turned left in front of me in an intersection downtown Vancouver and I smashed right into him with Lily in tow. Only one person (a pedestrian) stopped to ask if I was ok. One. No witnesses until a kind woman trudged down from the 9th floor of a building behind me to tell me she saw everything. The guy who hit me repeated over and over that I ran a red light and was speeding. Yeah - because ripping through red lights with my 5 month baby in the back is wicked fun! He quietened down as soon as I pulled Lily crying from the back seat of the car...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all ok, a little sore though. Lucky Lily has endured countless boring hours in doctors, chiros and physio appointments and I'm sure has gained a few friendly summah pounds from those extra bottles given to her to keep her occupied during appointments. Murl Mazda was written off and after a few glasses of wine that evening we decided to bite the bullet and buy a sweet ass ride - a Mazda 6 Sport Wagon. (Note weakness for Mazda's) We had exactly 4 days to find a new car when our ICBC rental coverage ran out. And when we found Him, freshly immigrated into Canada from a Washington Lease return, my heart literally skipped a beat. Love at first sight. And now me, who has a three shelf recycling system in the pantry, who saves friend's takeout bags so I can recycle them at home, who wears biodegradable underwear, is driving a gas guzzling, V6, soccer mom FIREROCKET!! And I'm so sorry to say this, Greenpeace - I don't mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have yet to name this metal god. Toying with Nicky (of Nicky 6), Kiki (in song United States of Whatever - a song which was apparently popular a few summers ago but I was somewhere deep in some site in Wyoming/Colorado/Tahiti and which I 'discovered' on the radio coming back from Castlegar the August long weekend and thought was the funniest song EVER even though to everyone else it's SO 2003). Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I WILL find one. I have the official job of 'Car Namer' in my extended family. Case in point: Patty Pathfinder, Kate Camry, Stinky Pete or Chili Car (after a tragic chili episode), and Petey Pup. What can I say - it's a gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Cascade Mountains with No Name Car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_2216.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_2216.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&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/29660163-115515394528883026?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/115515394528883026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=115515394528883026&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115515394528883026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115515394528883026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/08/dear-greenpeace-im-sorry.html' title='Dear Greenpeace, I&apos;m sorry...'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-115104188884141795</id><published>2006-06-22T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T00:20:40.980-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Taz</title><content type='html'>Now, let me stress the importance of movement. Lily does not stop moving. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Up down, up down, roll, roll, roll, kick, kick, flail, flail&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;She is forever squiggling, spinning around and babbling incoherently like that cyclonic Tasmanian Devil on the old Bugs Bunny cartoons. Hence the nickname, Taz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lily doesn't cuddle (unless she's sleeping), nor does she ever just sit contentedly in our lap or "lie like a lump" on a blanket (See June 20 posting). She functions as though stuck in a perpetual Jolly Jumper. I actually thought this was normal until I went to my first baby gym class when she was 7 weeks old and all the other babies were laying or sitting contentedly while we sang songs. I was shocked - and suddenly very tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom mentioned this to her mom in passing and Gran - a wise and inspirational woman (yet incorrigible and somewhat of a pest) with 4 kids of her own - 2 of which are twins - told my mom point blank - "You were exactly the same way as a baby".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1736.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"&gt;  &lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;  &lt;v:formulas&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;  &lt;/v:formulas&gt;  &lt;v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shapetype&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1736.jpg" style="'width:150pt;" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file:///C:/DOCUME~1/ADMINI~1/LOCALS~1/Temp/msoclip1/02/clip_image001.jpg" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1736.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !vml]--&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1736.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1736.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My mom, bless her heart, has enough energy to light a small city. It's the kind of energy that is infectious and makes everyone around her have the best time ever. And come to think of it, my mom never sits down. (Except in this picture. I think their energies actually cancel eachother out. ;) )&lt;br /&gt;Mom always seems like she's gearing up to go off somewhere else, instead of enjoying the moment. Which is probably why her and my dad (and my brother and I as kids) have traveled to some of the most amazing places on this planet. WOAH. Am I ever off topic!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Anyways, since Jay and I don't know any different, it has never been much of an issue for us. Plus, Lily is  just so much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1919.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1919.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My days consist soley of wearing Lily out. She's in swimming, baby gym class, stroller aerobics; we go for daily walks, visit friends and family, shop for plants, home decor, new baby clothes; visit museums, aquariums, zoos, Buddhist Temples, art galleries, antique shops, night markets - you name it - I've probably taken her there. Which, now that I'm reading back - makes me think that I actually have just as much energy as she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm. Poor Jason...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1861.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1861.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-115104188884141795?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/115104188884141795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=115104188884141795&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115104188884141795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115104188884141795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/06/taz.html' title='The Taz'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-115104115146850369</id><published>2006-06-22T22:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T00:21:02.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Milestones and Accounting</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1922.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/320/IMG_1922.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;Despite what my husband thinks, I don't get out that much. Not too bad for a new mom of 5 months, but nothing compared to the tightly packed pre-baby social schedule I once had. So to keep my 'sievey' post-baby synapse firing, I decided to attend the Archaeology Society of BC AGM in Vancouver on June 14. Now - to give you some context - I usually spend at least 15 hours a day with Lily, most of which is just her and I. So I require a little break once in a while. And up until this point, I've been around for all of her major 'milestones' (ie. first smile, rolling over, grabbing for toys, etc).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason and I always joke that she's advanced (even though she really is ;) ); however, she had yet to laugh. And we consider ourselves pretty funny people. Both our humour (ok, mostly mine) is pretty immature - consisting entirely of fart jokes and bad 80s dance moves. So needless to say, I was shocked that she didn't seem to find us worthy of a laugh... She, on the other hand, thinks she's hilarious. Case in point - here she is above wearing Jason's shorts around her neck which she slipped on while I stepped out of the room to check email.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I should quickly mention that Jason is phenomenal with Lily while I'm out. He takes her on trips to show her off to friends and family, feeds her promptly every two hours and puts her to sleep in her favourite spot - the Bjorn - which has incidentally, long been retired by me who refuses to bounce her to sleep at every nap - but I digress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on this particular evening, I headed out to Vancouver leaving a grouchy Lily with her Paps. Jason - wise beyond his years, decided the best way to deal with a grouchy kid is to take her to Granma and Grandpa's. (a foolproof plan) So Lily's hanging out with Granma in the living room at the Johnston's. Jason is in the kitchen (likely raiding the cookie jar), while Grandpa's reading the paper. Suddenly Jason hears this mini cackle coming from the living room and realizes that it came from Lily! And you know what made her laugh for the first time in her life? What was apparently so funny that she broke through months of jovial silence???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa crinkling the newspaper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE NEWSPAPER!!  That's not funny AT. ALL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what else is not funny? The fact that I was stuck in a 2 hour AGM with a society I just joined and was voted to be 'Treasurer', when I barely passed Grade 11 math while my baby was somewhere I wasn't, laughing at a newspaper!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky for me, my brilliant husband left a message at home showcasing her newest milestone. I've listened to the message 17 times now....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-115104115146850369?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/115104115146850369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=115104115146850369&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115104115146850369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115104115146850369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/06/milestones-and-accounting_22.html' title='Milestones and Accounting'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29660163.post-115084782568757005</id><published>2006-06-20T16:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T00:21:36.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A.D. Lily</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1070.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1070.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/STILL%20PHOTOS_17.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/STILL%20PHOTOS_17.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Before Lily was born (Lily B.C.), and about the time in her development that she was able to move her legs, she spent most of her days kicking me in the ribs. Hard. I was out for tea with some of my university friends (at the Secret Garden in Kerrisdale - highly recommended) a month before she was born and she kicked me so hard I swear she broke one of my ribs. This should have been our first clue....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, Jason and I embraced impending parenthood with that fluffy, romantic idea of the sleepy little newborn with the helpless cry, lying like a lump while we watched in adoration and basked in her cuteness. Ahem.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lily Assunta (named after my Grandpa Pisacreta's mother) Johnston was born 11 days late and one day shy of inducement. In pregnancy time that's equivalent to about 57 years.&lt;br /&gt;The labour, while relatively uneventful was a scathing 25 hours, plus 1 shot of morphine, 2 trips to the hospital, 5 puking episodes, 17 "don't touch me's", and 20 minutes of pushing. We love, love loved the doctor's (Dr. Meakes, Dr. Hall) and Nurse (Susan) at the BC Women's Hospital and had an overall wonderful and awe inspiring birth experience. (Is it glaringly obvious that I have since forgotten the pain of labour - and may indeed do it again in the future???)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1112.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1112.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Anyways, Lily was born at 3:04am on January 11th, 2006 with all of her toes, fingers and various other body parts intact. She popped out screaming and when the Dr put her on my chest, she stopped for a moment and just stared up at me as if to say "So... You're my mama". Later on I realized what she was really thinking was "I'm going to get you back for bringing me into this dry, cold, bright world" We brought her home the next day....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next 8 weeks were entirely on par with heeds from generations of mothers before me. &lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Suck. ASS.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1189.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1189.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Endless crying by both me and baby; bottle after bottle of Ovol (gas relief); sleepless nights and hazy days; anxiety over stupid things like the Bird Flu, Global warming and whether she would cry if I took her to Walmart; shits that actually covered distance that could be measured with a ruler; and stains - oh the stains... &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1216.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1216.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And did I mention that for some reason she smelled like boiled eggs for the first week of her life? But we all made it through... No serious emotional trauma. And by about 2 months, Lily was consistently sleeping through the night, smiling, and pretty much squiggling and moving every waking minute of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/1600/IMG_1221.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6765/3165/200/IMG_1221.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will save the last part of this for another post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/29660163-115084782568757005?l=jaylaura.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/feeds/115084782568757005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=29660163&amp;postID=115084782568757005&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115084782568757005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/29660163/posts/default/115084782568757005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jaylaura.blogspot.com/2006/06/ad-lily.html' title='A.D. Lily'/><author><name>Laura</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09781767205105309741</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_qs8mE9YTs8I/SCKWHnBs6lI/AAAAAAAAAHw/jKMsujG83kc/S220/DSC00536.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
