<?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-8792014</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:36:09.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the rantings of a sleep deprived mom</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>48</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110696245225173602</id><published>2005-01-28T17:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-28T17:34:12.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Fun Quiz</title><content type='html'>Not very exotic if you ask me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zenhex.com/tests/edeath/index.html"&gt;I will drown while bobbing for apples!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.zenhex.com/tests/edeath/bob.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How will you die? Take the &lt;b&gt;Exotic Cause of Death Test&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110696245225173602?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110696245225173602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110696245225173602' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110696245225173602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110696245225173602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2005/01/friday-fun-quiz.html' title='Friday Fun Quiz'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110670237116604102</id><published>2005-01-25T17:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-25T17:19:31.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Does this mean I'm immature?</title><content type='html'>I got this from my &lt;a href="http://www.moosiemoose.blogspot.com/"&gt;little sister&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" width="400" align="center" border="1" style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle" bg style="color:#66ccff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 14pt; COLOR: blackfont-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are 18 Years Old&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="middle" bg style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+6;color:#0000cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatagequiz/"&gt;What Age Do You Act?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny that the age I &lt;em&gt;act&lt;/em&gt; is 6 years younger than my little sister's. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110670237116604102?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110670237116604102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110670237116604102' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110670237116604102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110670237116604102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2005/01/does-this-mean-im-immature.html' title='Does this mean I&apos;m immature?'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110660524786152007</id><published>2005-01-24T14:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-24T14:20:47.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing?</title><content type='html'>Saturday, I went to the &lt;a href="http://www.worldartswest.org/"&gt;SF Ethnic Festival Audition's&lt;/a&gt; to cheer on my &lt;a href="http://temanaotera.org/"&gt;dance troupe&lt;/a&gt; as they (the intermediate/advanced dancers) tried out for a spot in the 2005 festival. I was looking forward to seeing their routine on stage (I'd seen it numerous times during class), and I was looking forward to seeing the other performers as well. The other tryouts were so-so, but there was one troupe that I was really insulted by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The group, who shall remain nameless, said they were going to be performing traditional Vietnamese dancing. Granted I'm no expert on Vietnamese dancing (traditional or otherwise), what those people did could not be in anyway considered Vietnamese or dancing. At best the routine sucked and at worst it was racist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, the majority of the dancers were non-Asian - which in itself is not an issue. I think its great for people of different cultures and races to be interested in each other's traditions, but only if they actually try to learn something about it. Second, these people went on stage dressed as &lt;a href="http://www.hyperdictionary.com/dictionary/coolie"&gt;COOLIES&lt;/a&gt;! They were actually wearing the &lt;a href="http://www.magicmakers.com/internet%20jpg%20C/chinesecoolie.html"&gt;straw coolie hats and the coolie pajamas&lt;/a&gt;. And third, these people pantomimed planting a field! The women "dancers" sowed seeds or something from their hats, and the male "dancers" followed them around pretending to hoe the field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked up the Vietnamese dance company online, and they actually seem like a legitimate dance troupe. The director of the dance company is Vietnamese refugee who studied with the San Francisco Ballet School and has an MFA in dance, and most of the performers listed on his website have a degree in dance or they studied with ballet companies. The website said their style is "a unique blend of contemporary modern and traditional Vietnamese dance." (I'm guessing what I saw was more in the contemporary modern genre than the traditional Vietnamese style.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After going through the website, I've got to assume the perfomers weren't trying to be offensive, but I can't believe those people are real dancers. They didn't do anything resembling dance moves of any kind besides walking/running on tiptoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110660524786152007?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110660524786152007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110660524786152007' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110660524786152007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110660524786152007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2005/01/dancing.html' title='Dancing?'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110600476906263984</id><published>2005-01-17T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-17T15:32:49.063-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoying or easily annoyed?</title><content type='html'>I found myself getting annoyed with Hubby over a bunch of little things this morning. He has today off, so he decided to play golf with some friends. I started getting annoyed with him pretty much right away because he able to get up and get ready quickly when normally it takes him forever to get out of bed. I'm annoyed with his getting ready quickly because I've always been bugged by his dilly dallying in the morning. I usually end up doing the lion share of things for Babygirl (getting her dressed, packing up the car, etc) in the morning because Hubby moves so slow. But today he gets ready and packs the car quickly w/o my pushing him to move faster because he wants to get to the golf course early to warm up. I'm also annoyed that he left earlier than usual to drop the girl off at daycare. I'm usually stressing about us being late every morning and trying to hustle him out of the door, but he always takes his time and ends up leaving 15 minutes later than I'd like. But today, he rushes Babygirl out of the house because he has plans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And truth be told, I'm annoyed with him for playing golf today instead of spending quality time with Babygirl. I definitely think he deserves to have some time for himself. I even told him to play golf today with his friends, but I know that if the situation were reversed, I'd probably spend the day with Babygirl because I'd feel guilty putting her in daycare on my day off. I don't want to think that his playing golf is the main reason for my annoyance today, because I really do think he needs the break to enjoy himself, but I wonder if it affects how I'm feeling towards him today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know what's really bothering me is that when he wants to do something he can multi-task and get things done in a timely manner, but he won't do it on a normal basis. But I do worry that a part of my annoyance at him comes from him not choosing to spend the time with Babygirl. I don't want him to feel guilty for taking time for himself, and I don't want to ruin his good time with my bad mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110600476906263984?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110600476906263984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110600476906263984' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110600476906263984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110600476906263984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2005/01/annoying-or-easily-annoyed.html' title='Annoying or easily annoyed?'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110556746828182210</id><published>2005-01-12T13:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-12T14:04:28.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Allergy Test Results</title><content type='html'>Hubby and I took Babygirl for more allergy testing last Wednesday and unfortunately she really is allergic to soy, nuts and eggs. Since the &lt;a href="http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/allergy-test-nonresults.html"&gt;blood tests&lt;/a&gt; were inconclusive, the doctor did &lt;a href="http://www.medicinenet.com/skin_test_for_allergy/article.htm"&gt;skins tests&lt;/a&gt; this time. Babygirl did not like the testing - the nurse marked her back w/a felt tip pen then scratched her back with small needles that contained the items (soy, eggs, rice, pea, walnut) she was to be tested for. At least Babygirl didn't seem to be in pain this time - she cried when the nurse used the pen and didn't cry any harder when she was scratched. The hardest part of the testing was trying to hold her still w/o touching her back or letting her scratch her back as her skin reacted to the allergens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bummed that Babygirl is allergic to everything, but the doctor did say that she could grow out of it. We'll reevaluate and do further testing in 6 months. Hopefully, her diet restrictions will ease up then. Until then we'll be spending a lot of money at &lt;a href="http://allergygrocer.com/"&gt;Miss Roben's Allergy Grocer site&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110556746828182210?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110556746828182210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110556746828182210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110556746828182210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110556746828182210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2005/01/allergy-test-results.html' title='Allergy Test Results'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110436005232786379</id><published>2004-12-29T14:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-29T14:40:52.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'>If you don't have anything nice to say....</title><content type='html'>The other day, I was putting a new coat, and my MIL walks up and asks, "Is that a new jacket?" I tell her that the coat is Hubby's xmas present to me. She inspects the inside of the jacket and pronounces it warm enough because it has a full lining, and then she says, "The wool could be softer though." What was the point in being so critical? It really bugs me that she can't just keep her mouth shut. It would be different if I had asked for her opinion, but even then why say something negative?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby and my SIL have confronted their mom about her critical remarks before, and she always says that she's not trying to criticize but she can't lie and pretend she likes something when she doesn't. Of course, her opinion is never asked for, so it's not like she has to lie. I guess she's just one of those people who are so compelled to tell the truth that they can't keep from blurting things out. Of course the things she &lt;em&gt;has&lt;/em&gt; to be truthful about are never positive things.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110436005232786379?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110436005232786379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110436005232786379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110436005232786379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110436005232786379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/if-you-dont-have-anything-nice-to-say.html' title='If you don&apos;t have anything nice to say....'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110427829033817086</id><published>2004-12-28T15:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-29T11:27:48.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Games</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/cast-of-characters-coworkers.html"&gt;Miss Perfect&lt;/a&gt; hates her BIL's girlfriend and constantly complains about her at work. (As far as any of us can tell the main problem with the girlfriend is that she's just like Miss Perfect but younger.) She insists that the girlfriend is very immature and one of the examples she gave is that the girlfriend likes to play &lt;a href="http://www.boardgamesexpress.com/gameDetail.asp?ID=164"&gt;Mad Gabs&lt;/a&gt;. Miss Perfect said she hoped the girlfriend wouldn't bring the game over for New Year's Eve because "What are we? 12? I should buy some drinking games to play instead." I guess I must be immature because I'd much rather play boardgames than drinking games.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110427829033817086?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110427829033817086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110427829033817086' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110427829033817086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110427829033817086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/games.html' title='Games'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110382808439499333</id><published>2004-12-23T10:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-23T10:54:44.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Babygirl can be bribed</title><content type='html'>My parents flew up from S. CA last night (yipee!) for our family Christmas gathering. Babygirl was asleep, so she didn't know her grandparents were here. I took Babygirl to see my mom as soon as she woke up. My mom was so excited to see Babygirl that her voice got all high-pitched and loud and she tried to kiss her and hold her right away, which of course scared Babygirl. Babygirl tried to get away from the crazed, kissing grandmother by leaning into me, holding out her hands, and saying, "No. No." My mom thought Babygirl didn't recognize her so she doubled her kissing efforts and kept saying, "I'm Po Po (Cantonese for grandmother on mother's side)." which panicked Babygirl even more. Finally my mom decided to bribe Babygirl, so she brought out a little Santa doll with bells for feet and shook it in front of Babygirl. Worked like a charm. Babygirl was out of my arms and into her grandmother's so fast, that I almost thought I dropped her. Do you think I need to talk to Babygirl about not taking candy from strangers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110382808439499333?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110382808439499333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110382808439499333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110382808439499333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110382808439499333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/babygirl-can-be-bribed.html' title='Babygirl can be bribed'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110365135033907614</id><published>2004-12-21T09:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T09:49:10.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Only slightly guilty</title><content type='html'>Hubby had an early dentist appointment this morning, so I had to drop Babygirl off at daycare. Hubby said that Babygirl hasn't cried the last few weeks, so I was hoping this would be an easy drop off. I sat with her while she ate her breakfast (Cheerios and bananas), and she seemed happy - waving and babbling to the boy sitting next to her. When I told her, "Mommy has to go bye bye now." she pushed her chair back, started crying, and tried to climb on me. I picked her up and walked her over to her teacher, Ms. Mary. Ms. Mary knew the drill, so she said, "It's time for Mommy to go now." Babygirl cried and said, "No!" but she stopped as soon Ms. Mary took her into her arms. I waved goodbye and walked out the door feeling only slightly guilty.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110365135033907614?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110365135033907614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110365135033907614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110365135033907614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110365135033907614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/only-slightly-guilty.html' title='Only slightly guilty'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110356809709850487</id><published>2004-12-20T10:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T10:41:37.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Outed by Babygirl</title><content type='html'>The other day, I was sitting around watching Babygirl play by herself when I farted. Babygirl stopped playing, turned to me, and said, "Boouuut!" Then she went on her merry way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110356809709850487?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110356809709850487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110356809709850487' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110356809709850487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110356809709850487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/outed-by-babygirl.html' title='Outed by Babygirl'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110124044559934532</id><published>2004-12-15T15:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-15T15:01:00.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>100 Things (41-60)</title><content type='html'>41. It's really sad when someone lets other people's opinions control their lives.&lt;br /&gt;42. People who are materialistic and/or superficial are pretty sad too.&lt;br /&gt;43. I mean I like to shop as much as other person, but what does it say about you when you let material things define your self-worth?&lt;br /&gt;44. People who are think they are better than everyone else really bug me.&lt;br /&gt;45. People who are closed minded really bug me too.&lt;br /&gt;46. And it drives me crazy when people are chronically late.&lt;br /&gt;47. The stupid subscription cards that fall out of magazines also drive me crazy - Especially the ones that fall out from magazines that I already subscribe to.&lt;br /&gt;48. In case you can't tell, I have a lot of opinions.&lt;br /&gt;49. But I'm a firm believer in not forcing my opinions on someone else.&lt;br /&gt;50. I hope I'll remember that as Babygirl grows up and makes decisions that I may not agree with.&lt;br /&gt;51. My MIL pretty much embodies the things I don't like - which is probably why we don't like each other that much.&lt;br /&gt;52. To be fair, I'm not actually sure she doesn't like me - I just get the feeling that she wishes I were a different type of person.&lt;br /&gt;53. Luckily, I get along with most of my other in-laws (FIL, SIL, Cousin-in-laws, etc)&lt;br /&gt;54. My SIL and I don't have a lot in common, so we probably wouldn't be good friends if we weren't in-laws.&lt;br /&gt;55. But we both feel pretty lucky to have each other as a SIL, especially when so many have horror stories of the SILs or BILs they have to deal with.&lt;br /&gt;56. My little sister, &lt;a href="http://www.moosiemoose.blogspot.com/"&gt;Moosie&lt;/a&gt;, is my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;57. She is almost 5 years (4 years 8 months) younger than me, so we didn't get along so well when we were younger.&lt;br /&gt;58. I thought she was a really annoying brat, and she thought I was a really bossy meanie.&lt;br /&gt;59. We didn't start to get along until I went away for college.&lt;br /&gt;60. Now we email or talk on the phone every day, meet up for lunch 2-3x a week, and hang out 4x a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110124044559934532?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110124044559934532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110124044559934532' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110124044559934532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110124044559934532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/100-things-41-60.html' title='100 Things (41-60)'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110306580581004144</id><published>2004-12-14T15:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-14T15:10:05.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Terrible Twos</title><content type='html'>Last night, Hubby was talking on his cell phone and Babygirl desperately wanted the phone. She pointed at the phone and when that didn't work she tried climbing up Hubby's leg. She started to whine, so I handed her an old cell phone that we don't use. She looked at the old cell phone I handed her, got upset, and threw it. She pointed at Hubby's cell phone again, stomped her feet, and whined. We ignored her, so she picked up the old cell phone that she threw and threw it again! She threw it a couple more times and when she realized it wasn't getting her what she wanted she lay down on the floor and had a tantrum - kicking her feet, rolling her head back and forth, and crying/screaming (without any tears of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, being the excellent parent that I am, decided to tape her little tantrum. Babygirl stopped crying/screaming for a second when she heard the camera turn on, but when she realized that I wasn't giving her what she wanted she continued with her fit. After a few minutes, her tantrum wasn't satisfying enough, so she rolled over onto her tummy (still crying/screaming) and looked around. She saw the old cell phone again, reached for it, and threw it. So now she's on the floor having a tantrum and periodically reaching for the old cell phone and throwing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hubby and I decide to completely ignore her so I stopped taping and we went over to the kitchen to start prepping her lunch for the next day. After a few minutes, Babygirl realized we weren't even paying attention to her so she got up, walked over to us, and really started to cry. I knelt down, held her hands, looked her in the eye, and said, "I love you sweetie, but you can't throw things or have tantrums whenever you don't get what you want." Which of course worked so well that Babygirl immediately threw herself on the ground again and had another tantrum. This time she hit her head on the kitchen table leg and started crying in pain. I tried to pick her up to comfort her, but she wouldn't have anything to do with me. She squirmed to get out of my arms, crying, "Da da. Da da." over and over again. Finally Hubby came over and picked her up. It took a few minutes but she eventually calmed down and just whined in his arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, we decided to take her up to bed early. Hubby put her in bed with her blanky and pacifier. She crawled around whining a little and then threw her pacifier! But after her pacifier was gone, she started whining louder because she wanted her pacifier. She grabbed her pacifier and put it back in her mouth but then she realized she was still angry so she threw her pacifier again! She did this a few more times before she finally got too tired to throw her pacifier again and fell asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aren't the Terrible Twos supposed to start at age 2?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110306580581004144?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110306580581004144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110306580581004144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110306580581004144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110306580581004144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/terrible-twos.html' title='The Terrible Twos'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110284063429108222</id><published>2004-12-13T09:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T09:58:10.216-08:00</updated><title type='text'>B*tch!</title><content type='html'>I was telling my in-laws about Babygirl's &lt;a href="http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/allergy-test-nonresults.html"&gt;allergy test results&lt;/a&gt;, and my MIL asked if there was anything that we did that caused her high levels of antibodies. I told her I asked the doctor the same thing, and he said that nothing we did or fed Babygirl caused the allergies or the antibodies - some people are just prone to it. My MIL then turned to me and suggested that I ask the doctor if there's anything the mother did or ate while pregnant that would cause that problem so that our next child wouldn't have the same issues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so floored by her comment, all I could was stand there and stare at her with my mouth open. You'd think that after all these years of her "helpful remarks", I'd have some sort of comeback ready, but she always manages to catch me by surprise. I think its because she goes weeks without saying anything bad, lulling me into this false sense of security, and then BAM! she hits me with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least this time Hubby caught the comment and called his mother on it. He asked her point blank why she has to try and blame us for Babygirl's problems. She avoided the question by mumbling something about how she's just trying to help us figure out what to do and busying herself with making lunch. Hubby didn't pursue it right then, but later on he took his mother aside and told her that the way she asked the question basically sounded like an accusation. She told him that she didn't mean it to be an accusation, and she just really wanted to know if there's anything that could be done so we could avoid in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I shouldn't let her get to me, but I can't help it. Maybe I am too sensitive (my MIL seems to think so). As a mother, I think I'll always worry that there was something I should have or could have done. I try my best but I'm always wondering if there was a better choice I could have made. The last thing I need is for my MIL to question me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110284063429108222?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110284063429108222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110284063429108222' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110284063429108222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110284063429108222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/btch.html' title='B*tch!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110270115141978623</id><published>2004-12-10T09:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-10T09:52:31.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Allergy Test (non)Results</title><content type='html'>Babygirl's &lt;a href="http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/hard-morning.html"&gt;allergy test&lt;/a&gt; came back. There's good news and bad news. The good news is that &lt;a href="http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/babygirls-allergies.html"&gt;what the doctor suspected&lt;/a&gt; is true - she has such a high level of antibodies in her system that she's showing allergies to things she may not be allergic too. The bad news is that it makes her blood test useless. The next step is to conduct skin tests. The doctor will be reviewing her test and her charts carefully over the next few days to determine what we should do a skin test on, and he'll contact me next week to schedule a time for the tests. Poor girl will have to be poked again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor did say that Babygirl is doing surprisingly well. He said that kids who have this high level of antibodies usually have really severe eczema, asthma, and other issues while Babygirls eczema is under control, and she doesn't have asthma or other issues. Unfortunately, since her blood test were inconclusive we have to hold her to a strict diet of no dairy, soy, eggs, nuts, shellfish, and citrus until the skin tests are completed. Hopefully the skin test will show that she has less allergies than we thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110270115141978623?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110270115141978623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110270115141978623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110270115141978623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110270115141978623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/allergy-test-nonresults.html' title='Allergy Test (non)Results'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110261774185633406</id><published>2004-12-09T08:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-09T10:42:21.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Wake the Baby!</title><content type='html'>Babygirl is such a grump when she's woken up! Last night I was trying to put some &lt;a href="http://www.protopic.com/index1_1.html"&gt;Protopic&lt;/a&gt; on her hands and ankles while she was asleep (if she's awake she'll might rub the medicine into her eyes), but she woke up, and she was not happy with me! She sat up, furrowed her brows, and pouted her lips. She looked so cute because her cheeks were rosy and her hair was all messy that I wanted to cuddle and kiss her, but she said, "No!" when I tried to put her on my lap. I decided to give her a pacifier thinking she'd put it in her mouth and lie down, but she said, "No!", grabbed it and threw it! Then she looked around a bit, grabbed her blanky and threw that. Apparently that wasn't satisfying enough because she reached for the pacifier and threw it again! After a few more, "Nos!" and throwing of things, she finally hugged her blanky, lay down, and went to sleep. Is it wrong that I want to wake her up again tonight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110261774185633406?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110261774185633406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110261774185633406' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110261774185633406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110261774185633406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/dont-wake-baby.html' title='Don&apos;t Wake the Baby!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110244228571147419</id><published>2004-12-07T09:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-07T09:58:05.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird Dream</title><content type='html'>I had weird dream last night. I was some sort of style consultant (and I did look pretty stylish in my dream) that people could hire to show them the coolest hotspots and the latest trends. I took 2 women to the hottest nightclub for a lesson in the latest dance craze - Flour Dancing! The dance floor had mounds of flour all over it. I took off my (stylish) shoes, walked (possibly even strutted) onto the dance floor, and showed the women how to make their own little mounds of flour with their feet. I signaled the DJ to start the music, and then I kind of hopped onto my pile of flour and started to "dance". The dancing was kind of like step-aerobics with the flour as your step. I stepped up and down as I enthusiastically shouted instruction to my clients. I did knee lifts and kicks as my clients copied my every movement. Eventually we all pushed off with our mounds of flour and started gliding across the dance floor like ice skaters. Just as I started thinking that it was pretty weird that the flour didn't poof all over the place and cover my stylish outfit, I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110244228571147419?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110244228571147419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110244228571147419' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110244228571147419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110244228571147419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/weird-dream.html' title='Weird Dream'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110235777649980354</id><published>2004-12-06T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-06T10:29:36.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chanukah Miracle(s)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.aimless1.blogspot.com/"&gt;Aimless&lt;/a&gt; and I had a play date for our kids this weekend. We were planning on having lunch and lounging around watching the newest &lt;a href="http://harrypotter.warnerbros.com/main/homepage/home.html"&gt;Harry Potter DVD, The Prisoner of Azkaban&lt;/a&gt;. We figured we get to see the movie in 30 minute spurts because the kids wouldn't be able to entertain each other for longer than that without needing our attention. But we accomplished the impossible this weekend. We got 3 kids to nap at the same time, so we watched our movie uninterrupted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids didn't actually fall asleep at the same time, but they tired out from playing together, so they were all zoning when we put the movie on. Baybgirl was enthralled by the movie (actually she was probably just really tired), and she sat quietly in my lap until she fell asleep (which was about 30 minutes in to the movie). The next to nod off was Bee - she crawled into Aimless's lap, and she was out about 15 minutes after Babygirl was. Finally Bug, got to climb into his mom's lap when she put Bee in the bedroom, and then he fell asleep too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another accomplishment was that our husband's didn't ditch us play golf this time. What miraculous play date indeed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110235777649980354?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110235777649980354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110235777649980354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110235777649980354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110235777649980354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/chanukah-miracles.html' title='The Chanukah Miracle(s)'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110201461506657867</id><published>2004-12-02T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-02T11:10:15.066-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard morning</title><content type='html'>Hubby, my FIL, and I took Babygirl to the lab to draw her blood for the &lt;a href="http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/babygirls-allergies.html"&gt;allergy test&lt;/a&gt; this morning. I tried telling her about the blood draw this morning so she'd be prepared, but I'm pretty sure she didn't understand anything I said. For the blood draw, I held Babygirl in my lap, and Hubby held her arm still. Poor girl started crying as soon as the blood/lab tech person prepped her arm. What sucks is he couldn't get blood the first time, so she had to be poked twice! The second time, she started crying as soon as we sat in the chair. She cried really hard and wailed, "Oh no! Oh No! Oh no!" throughout the whole procedure! I didn't want to see the needle poke Babygirl's arm, so I kept my face buried in her hair, but I could tell when they poked her because she kinda screamed. I felt so bad! I held her tight in my lap, kissed her head, and whispered everything would be ok as both of us cried. Luckily, she stopped crying almost as soon as we got up from the chair. She just had that hiccupy breath you get when you cry really hard. She wanted Hubby right away, and she looked so sad with her head on her daddy's shoulder as she hiccuped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were walking out of the lab, she wanted me again (that made me feel much better - I was worried she was angry with me for holding her to be poked). She put her head on my shoulder, and I cuddled her and kissed the tears that were still on her cheeks. Hubby and I stayed around for another 20 minutes to let her calm down and to cuddle and kiss her some before we had to leave for work. It was very hard leaving her with FIL this morning. But I'm glad that she gets to go with grandpa today and not school. He'll spoil her a little, and I think she'll feel better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lab said they should have results for our doctor in 48 hours, so I'm hoping we'll hear something by Tuesday. I hope the test results will say that she has less allergies than we originally thought. Keep your fingers crossed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110201461506657867?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110201461506657867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110201461506657867' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110201461506657867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110201461506657867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/hard-morning.html' title='Hard morning'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110192178288199266</id><published>2004-12-01T09:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-01T09:23:02.883-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Daycare Update</title><content type='html'>Babygirl's been going to daycare for about a month now, and she seems to finally be getting used to it. Hubby said Babygirl was was happy but clingy when they first got to daycare this morning(which has been the norm) but when he told her he had to leave she kind of leaned towards the teacher, Ms. Mary, to carry her! She still cried but at least it seems like she knows the routine and is comfortable enough with Ms. Mary to go to her! And Ms. Mary said Babygirl did really well yesterday because she didn't need to carry her blanky and stuffed animal (comfort items) around for very long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, Babygirl seems to be doing well and having fun at daycare - she pretty much stops crying as soon as Hubby is out of sight (Hubby has peeked in through the two-way mirror thingy after he walks out the door), and she's usually having fun with the other kids when he arrives to pick her up. I'm just hoping today is the first step towards not crying when Hubby has to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110192178288199266?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110192178288199266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110192178288199266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110192178288199266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110192178288199266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/12/daycare-update.html' title='Daycare Update'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110176376760909446</id><published>2004-11-30T11:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-30T11:19:40.930-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Babygirl's Allergies</title><content type='html'>Babygirl has &lt;a href="http://www.treat-eczema-now.com/index.jsp?source=01026&amp;campaign=ELI-0189&amp;amp;site=100005&amp;placement=102536&amp;amp;creative=100002"&gt;eczema&lt;/a&gt; (which is often linked to food allergies), so when it was time to wean her off formula and on to milk her pediatrician recommended having a blood test done to see what foods she might be allergic to. (He figured having one needle poke was better than suffering through trial and error.) The blood test showed that she was highly allergic to everything he tested her for (milk, soy, nuts, shellfish, eggs, and citrus fruits), so he recommended we see an Allergist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took Babygirl to see an Allergist last Wednesday. He looked at her test results and said that it was pretty unusual for someone to be that highly allergic to everything. He feels that she may be highly allergic to one or two things and then the other items are just a cross-reaction. He wrote up a more in-depth allergy test , so that we can determine the specifics things she's allergic to. Hubby and I will be taking Babygirl in to have her blood drawn Thursday morning. (She is not going to be happy with us.) Hopefully, this in-depth test will show that Babygirl is not allergic to as many things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really hoping that Babygirl's not allergic to soy and eggs. Those two items have severely limited her diet. Soy seems to be in everything - crackers, canned soup, spaghetti sauce, vegetable oil, etc. And eggs are in most baked good (bread, muffins, cookies), and a lot of typical kid foods (pancakes, waffles, some pastas). I was able to find things at &lt;a href="http://www.wholefoods.com/"&gt;Whole Foods&lt;/a&gt; that don't have soy in it, so Babygirl isn't completely deprived, but I'd rather she be able to eat what everyone else was eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110176376760909446?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110176376760909446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110176376760909446' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110176376760909446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110176376760909446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/babygirls-allergies.html' title='Babygirl&apos;s Allergies'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110176570605880306</id><published>2004-11-29T13:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-29T14:01:46.060-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>My parents drove up from S. CA (yipeee!) on Wednesday night, and they stayed until Sunday afternoon. (Babygirl wasn't comfortable enough on Wednesday to let my parents hold her but by mid-morning on Thanksgiving day she was running up to my parents with arms outstretched!) Thanksgiving day we had dinner with my extended family and dessert with Hubby's extended family. We pretty much have to spend time with both sides of the family for every holiday gathering, so we're used to it. This year was just a little harder because Thanksgiving dinner for my extended family was at my house, so we ended up ditching everyone after dinner to run to Hubby's family gathering. At least my in-laws were hosting Thanksgiving for their extended family, so we didn't have far to go. And luckily my mom and my sister helped me clean up after everyone left. (Thanks Moosie!) Overall I didn't do too much this past few days, but I'm tired! I think I need a few days off to get over the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110176570605880306?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110176570605880306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110176570605880306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110176570605880306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110176570605880306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110063545864298047</id><published>2004-11-23T11:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-23T11:46:17.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>100 Things (21-40)</title><content type='html'>21. I wish my in-laws moved to S. CA instead of parents.&lt;br /&gt;22. I miss my parents a lot, especially now that I have Babygirl.&lt;br /&gt;23. Having Babygirl made me appreciate my mom even more.&lt;br /&gt;24. My mom says that Babygirl reminds her of me when I was little.&lt;br /&gt;25. Part of me hopes that Babygirl is like me because it means she won't get pushed around.&lt;br /&gt;26. But I worry that if she is like me, we'll butt heads A LOT.&lt;br /&gt;27. I'm stubborn and inpatient, and I get annoyed really easily.&lt;br /&gt;28. I also have a bad temper.&lt;br /&gt;29. I'm not easily angered but most people are afraid to make me angry.&lt;br /&gt;30. I'm also a pretty nice.&lt;br /&gt;31. At least I try to be inclusive and friendly to everyone, and I try not to hurt people's feelings.&lt;br /&gt;32. But I've learned that it's not worth it to waste my time on people who don't add anything to my life.&lt;br /&gt;33. I've also learned that people who don't have friends, don't have friends for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;34. It sounds mean but after you pick up a few stalkers, you learn to stop being nice.&lt;br /&gt;35. I'm a considerate person.&lt;br /&gt;36. At least I try to think about how things will affect other people.&lt;br /&gt;37. I'm silly and goofy, and I try not to take things too seriously.&lt;br /&gt;38. I'm pretty sarcastic, and I can be witty at times.&lt;br /&gt;39. Though neither really shows in my blog.&lt;br /&gt;39. And I don't really care what other people think of me&lt;br /&gt;40. Well I obviously care to a certain degree, but I wouldn't let what someone thought of me affect my choices in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110063545864298047?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110063545864298047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110063545864298047' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110063545864298047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110063545864298047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/100-things-21-40.html' title='100 Things (21-40)'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110123041652857712</id><published>2004-11-23T08:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-23T09:20:16.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tar!</title><content type='html'>Babygirl is so smart! This morning she pulled one of those little shapes books out, opened it, and said "Tar". It was a picture of a star! I never taught her what a star looked like! She learns so quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110123041652857712?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110123041652857712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110123041652857712' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110123041652857712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110123041652857712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/tar.html' title='Tar!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110088854863412682</id><published>2004-11-19T10:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-19T10:22:28.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You are what you wear?</title><content type='html'>If &lt;a href="http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&amp;cid=583&amp;amp;ncid=583&amp;e=12&amp;amp;u=/nm/20041118/od_nm/twirp_dc"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;wearing the opposite sex's clothes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; can turn you into a homosexual, will dressing up as Cat In The Hat for Halloween turn me into a pet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110088854863412682?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110088854863412682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110088854863412682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110088854863412682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110088854863412682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/you-are-what-you-wear.html' title='You are what you wear?'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110080451070727433</id><published>2004-11-18T10:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-18T11:01:50.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>#@$%!!!!!</title><content type='html'>I'm totally pissed at Hubby. My Tahitian dance troupe was selling frozen cookie-dough for a fund-raiser, and I bought a box and coerced &lt;a href="http://www.aimless1.blogspot.com/"&gt;Aimless&lt;/a&gt; to buy one too. I picked up the cookie-dough last night at the beginning of dance class. Hubby stopped by the class last night so I asked him to take the dough home and put it in the fridge for me. I even put the dough on his front passenger seat, so he'd see it and not forget. Guess where I found the cookie dough this morning? In the front passenger seat of his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one incident isn't that big of deal by itself, but he's been forgetting to do a lot of things these past few weeks. And his "forgetting" has been a very very very sore subject for us. We've "discussed" his "forgetting" on numerous occasions. In each of our discussions, he tells me that he feels bad for not doing whatever it was that he forgot to do and says that he'll try harder . And during one of our "discussions", he's said that at least he always does what's important - like things related to Babygirl. While he does do his share of diapers, feedings, baths - I get stuck with the bulk of everything that needs to be done for her that isn't related to actually spending time with her (shopping, packing her diaper bag, cooking, cleaning). When I ask him to take over shopping or packing her diaper bag, he does it without complaint, but he usually forgets something essential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example One: Every morning since Babygirl started daycare, I get her dressed and then go downstairs to pack her food (breakfast, lunch, bottles, fruit) for daycare. (Babygirl has a lot of allergies, so she can't have most of the items on the daycare's menu.) On Tuesday, I asked Hubby to pack her food (which I already prepped and labeled the night before), so that I could spend more time with Babygirl. He packs everything but her breakfast. What really bugs me is that we discussed what to pack for her breakfast the night before. Granted I didn't repeat everything he needed to pack that morning, but do I really need to get that specific? And to top it off, he spends the first 20 minutes at daycare feeding Babygirl her breakfast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example Two: I usually pack Babygirl's diaper bag before we leave the house. One time I was changing Babygirl's diaper so I asked Hubby to make sure we had Babygirl's &lt;a href="http://www.imaginefoods.com/pages/products/ricedream.php"&gt;rice milk&lt;/a&gt; (she's allergic to dairy and soy) and snacks in the bag. He packs the boxes of milk (she has to drink rice milk and it comes in these juice box things that are handy for going out because it doesn't need to be refrigerated) but forgets to pack a bottle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have no problem just letting some things slide (which is why our house isn't cleaned very regularly), but I can't sit back on the things related to Babygirl. I feel I either have to do everything myself or double check when Hubby does something which still adds more to my workload.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what makes me really angry? When people tell me that I'm lucky because Hubby is better than other men they know. WTF?! What kind of men do they know? Why does he get credit for "helping" to take care of his own child? I don't get credit for working full-time and coming home to do the majority of &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0380711575/104-9609206-5955127?v=glance"&gt;The Second Shift&lt;/a&gt;, so why does he get credit for changing a #@$%ing diaper?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110080451070727433?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110080451070727433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110080451070727433' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110080451070727433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110080451070727433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/blog-post.html' title='#@$%!!!!!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110071039553269989</id><published>2004-11-17T08:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-17T08:53:15.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Breastfeeding a puppy?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&amp;cid=583&amp;amp;ncid=583&amp;e=1&amp;amp;u=/nm/20041117/od_nm/odd_newzealand_puppy_dc"&gt;This&lt;/a&gt; disturbs me on many different levels.  I'm trying to be open-minded but if she really didn't want to waste her breastmilk couldn't she at least pump?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110071039553269989?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110071039553269989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110071039553269989' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110071039553269989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110071039553269989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/breastfeeding-puppy.html' title='Breastfeeding a puppy?'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110013037850796632</id><published>2004-11-16T13:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-17T08:55:48.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>100 Things (1-20)</title><content type='html'>1. I'm an ABC (American-born Chinese)&lt;br /&gt;2. I was born in San Francisco and raised in the 'burbs of the Bay Area.&lt;br /&gt;3. I speak a little Cantonese - ok I actually speak Chinglish (some Cantonese with a lot of English words thrown in).&lt;br /&gt;4. I hate it when people try to figure out my ethnicity by asking me where I'm from.&lt;br /&gt;5. I hate it even more when they ask me where I'm really from when I tell them California.&lt;br /&gt;6. I met my husband (aka Hubby) in 1993.&lt;br /&gt;7. We got engaged in September 2000.&lt;br /&gt;8. We bought a condo and moved in together in September 2001.&lt;br /&gt;9. We got married in February 2002.&lt;br /&gt;10. We got pregnant in December 2002.&lt;br /&gt;11. We moved to a bigger house in July 2003.&lt;br /&gt;12. I gave birth to the love of my life, Babygirl, in August 2003.&lt;br /&gt;13. Labor was much easier than I thought it would be - thanks to the epidural I got early on.&lt;br /&gt;14. Babygirl is the best thing that has ever happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;15. She is also the hardest thing that has ever happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;16. My in-laws are the bane of my existence.&lt;br /&gt;17. They live way too close (5 minutes walking distance) .&lt;br /&gt;18. Looking back, I shouldn't have willingly moved so close to them.&lt;br /&gt;19. Though without them, I wouldn't have much fodder for my blog.&lt;br /&gt;20. My parents and my SIL moved to S. CA March 2002.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110013037850796632?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110013037850796632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110013037850796632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110013037850796632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110013037850796632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/100-things-1-20.html' title='100 Things (1-20)'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110062378843544384</id><published>2004-11-16T08:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-16T08:49:48.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Boy is Home!</title><content type='html'>Just got this email from my cousin:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Baby Boy was released from the hospital today, Monday, November 15th. He is finally home where he belongs. Baby Boy had such a remarkable recovery that the doctors felt he didn’t need to be in the hospital anymore. A met his brother for the first time this afternoon and we think he is happier than Mom and Dad. A has been giving his baby brother more kisses than Mom and Dad too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Thank you to everyone for all of your support. Baby Boy will soon be able to meet all of you to say thanks also.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I can't believe he's home already! I mean he just had open heart surgery last Tuesday. But it's great news, and I can't wait to see him. Thanks again for all your postive thoughts!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110062378843544384?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110062378843544384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110062378843544384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110062378843544384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110062378843544384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/baby-boy-is-home.html' title='Baby Boy is Home!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110055625657601462</id><published>2004-11-15T14:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-15T14:04:16.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No! No! No!</title><content type='html'>Babygirl is getting a bit bratty. She's always been pretty stubborn and strong willed, but lately she's taken to hitting, wagging her finger, and yelling, "No! No! No!" when she doesn't get her way. This past week, Babygirl hit and yelled at me when I didn't pick her up fast enough because I was making dinner. She hit and yelled at Moosie, when Moosie wouldn't let her down at the park because they were too close to the pond. And she hit and yelled at her cousin, A, when he wouldn't get out of his chair that she wanted to sit in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need to work on stopping her behavior and not laughing at it. When Babygirl hit and yelled at me the first time, I laughed and completely forgot about stopping her. It was cute and caught me by surprise. Luckily I remembered not to laugh when she did it to A. I grabbed her hands, looked her in the eye, and told her to stop. I also told her, "No hitting. It hurts." but I'm not sure she really understood me. I guess the point is that she hears my voice being firm and my face looking stern. At least I hope that's what the point is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Babygirl is learning this behavior from my MIL. When Babygirl tries to grab or touch something she's not supposed to my MIL will hit the object, wag her finger at it, and yell, "No! No! No!". I guess it's time for another "talk" with my MIL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110055625657601462?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110055625657601462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110055625657601462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110055625657601462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110055625657601462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/no-no-no.html' title='No! No! No!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110054917452495100</id><published>2004-11-15T13:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-15T12:06:14.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good news!</title><content type='html'>Baby Boy is out of NICU! He's off the pain medications, and he's eating well on his own! My cousin will be talking to his doctor today about the estimate for when Baby Boy can leave the hospital. I can't wait to see him! Thanks for all the well wishes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110054917452495100?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110054917452495100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110054917452495100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110054917452495100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110054917452495100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/good-news.html' title='Good news!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110013010730899525</id><published>2004-11-10T15:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-10T15:41:47.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So sweet!</title><content type='html'>Babygirl is so sweet! Last night she kept trying to kiss A (&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/app/post.pyra?blogID=8792014&amp;amp;postID=109959087011983146"&gt;Baby Boy's&lt;/a&gt; older brother), but she was too short so she kept getting him on his chest near his chin. Babygirl would run up to A, lean her head towards his chin, and say, "mmmmwwwwaaaah!" Of course A, being a typical boy, was clueless to her attempts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110013010730899525?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110013010730899525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110013010730899525' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110013010730899525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110013010730899525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/so-sweet.html' title='So sweet!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110004646433327665</id><published>2004-11-09T16:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-09T16:27:44.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Successful surgery!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just heard from my cousin - Baby Boy just finished his surgery and it was a success! He's doing well but the doctors said the next 72 hours are important (complications and infections usually happen during this time frame). So while the worst part is over, we still need some positive thoughts! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110004646433327665?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110004646433327665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110004646433327665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110004646433327665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110004646433327665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/successful-surgery.html' title='Successful surgery!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110003915926682111</id><published>2004-11-09T14:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-09T14:25:59.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Positive Thoughts</title><content type='html'>My cousin's &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/app/post.pyra?blogID=8792014&amp;amp;postID=109959087011983146"&gt;baby boy&lt;/a&gt; is having open heart surgery today. Please send your positive thoughts in the direction of &lt;a href="http://www.childrenshospitaloakland.org/"&gt;Children's Hospital&lt;/a&gt; in Oakland, CA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110003915926682111?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110003915926682111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110003915926682111' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110003915926682111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110003915926682111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/positive-thoughts.html' title='Positive Thoughts'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-110002111230925907</id><published>2004-11-09T09:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-09T09:25:12.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Babygirl is flirting!  </title><content type='html'>During breakfast at daycare, Hubby said Babygirl was trying to give her pop tart (nutritious isn't it?) to a little boy named Stephan. I didn't think it would start so young!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-110002111230925907?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/110002111230925907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=110002111230925907' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110002111230925907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/110002111230925907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/babygirl-is-flirting.html' title='Babygirl is flirting!  '/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109996059072267748</id><published>2004-11-08T16:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-08T16:44:39.663-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Word for Babygirl</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I've been trying to teach Babygirl a few new words every week - I'll say something slowly and ask her to repeat it. This past week I've been trying to teach her to say Auntie (so she can wrap &lt;a href="http://www.moosiemoose.blogspot.com/"&gt;Moosie&lt;/a&gt; around her finger even more). She doesn't say it very often but when she does it comes out Ern-nee. (It sounds just enough like Auntie for Moosie to go crazy.) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109996059072267748?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109996059072267748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109996059072267748' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109996059072267748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109996059072267748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/new-word-for-babygirl.html' title='New Word for Babygirl'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109961507765218930</id><published>2004-11-04T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-05T11:31:42.086-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tacky!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I received this email (unsolicited) from Hubby’s Aunt:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I've been asked to provide a wish list for the kids so I decided to send it to you all in case you wanted to know. If not, then delete it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Son’s Wish list:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Game cube games: Sonic Hero’s, Pokemon Colosseum, Mario Cart Double Dash, Zelda Wind waker, Sponge Bob Square Pants Battle for Bikini bottom, Sonic Adventure Battle 2. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Game Boy Advance games: Sponge Bob Square Pants Return of the Flying Dutchman, Yu-Gi-Oh game, Warrioland 4. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Game Boy Advance videos: Fairy Odd Parents. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Pokemon or Dragon or Karate T-shirts (size 8) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;DVD Movies: Bionicle 2 Legend of Metru Nui, Pokemon Jurachi wish maker &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;CD’s: Osmosis Jones sound track &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Portable CD player &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Stink Blaster Toy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; Tetherball court &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; Prism rock &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; Pokemon Howin (not sure of spelling) pokadex &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Yu-Gi-Oh booster packs - Soul of the Duelist &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; Pokemon Fire Red trading cards &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt; Pokemon Leaf Green trading cards&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Other things that he might like but didn’t wish for: Twister game, board games, card games, science stuff – where you make things. He likes neat rocks and crystals, water blaster toy guns.&lt;br /&gt;Buy clothing size 8 boys. Favorite color: Aqua, then blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Daughter’s Wish List:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Princess talking: telephone, mirror, wand, camera &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Princess dress up shoes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Princess crowns &amp; accessories &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Princess umbrella &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Princess music CD’s &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Jewelry box, princess jewelry. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Books on Princess (especially Ariel), &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Polly Pockets &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Large Portable doll house &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Magic Hair Fairytale Dora &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Flavored Chap Stick lipsticks &amp; pretend makeup. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Baby that opens her mouth for pacifier, bottle, and takes a bath. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Deluxe baby stroller (comes with stroller &amp; baby carrier) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Tops with princesses on them &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Bath tub paints &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Mulan DVD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;She is currently into princesses. Ariel is her favorite Princess. Her Favorite color is green, then yellow, then blue. She likes to put on makeup, dress up, pretend cooking. She likes to wear dresses but she is picky as to what they look like. Buy clothing size 4or 4T.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Is it just me or is this extremely tacky and grabby?  I love buying presents for little kids, and I really do want to get them something they would enjoy but shouldn't she wait until I ask for a wish list before sending it to me?  And even if I did ask for a wish list, I'm put off by the sheer number of items on it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109961507765218930?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109961507765218930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109961507765218930' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109961507765218930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109961507765218930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/tacky.html' title='Tacky!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109959087011983146</id><published>2004-11-04T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-04T09:54:30.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A new baby in the family</title><content type='html'>My cousin just had a baby boy on Monday! It's a very happy time for our family, but its also a very challenging time. Shortly after he was born, he was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect called &lt;a href="http://www.americanheart.org/presenter.jhtml?identifier=1682"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Transposition of the Great Arteries (TGA)&lt;/a&gt;. He is currently in stable condition at the NICU at &lt;a href="http://www.childrenshospitaloakland.org/"&gt;Children's Hospital&lt;/a&gt; in Oakland, but he needs to have open heart surgery next Tuesday. On the bright side, the success rate of the surgery to correct the defect is 99% and there should be no long term affects from the defect or surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have complete confidence that he will be ok - he's in being cared for by experts and as scary as the situation is, his heart defect is fairly common and easily correctable. Right now, I'm more worried about my cousin and her husband. It's a very stressful time for them, and I can't even begin to imagine what they must be going through. To top it off, they have a 2 year old at home, so they are trying to keep things as normal as possible for him. Moosie and I have been trying to check in on them and offering help/support/love without being bothersome. Hopefully our calls are helpful and not annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109959087011983146?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109959087011983146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109959087011983146' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109959087011983146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109959087011983146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/new-baby-in-family.html' title='A new baby in the family'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109951823888545356</id><published>2004-11-03T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-03T13:43:58.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pho</title><content type='html'>Mmmmmmmm &lt;a href="http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/chronicle/archive/2004/11/03/FDGRN9HG5P1.DTL&amp;type=food"&gt; Pho&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109951823888545356?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109951823888545356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109951823888545356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109951823888545356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109951823888545356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/pho.html' title='Pho'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109942248690817547</id><published>2004-11-02T11:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-02T11:10:46.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I really am reliable!</title><content type='html'>My FIL can't even keep his schedule straight for a few days! He just told Hubby and I &lt;a href="http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/this-time-its-fil.html"&gt;last week&lt;/a&gt; that his project would be over by this week.  He tried to convince us that daycare was unnecessary and if we really wanted to place Babygirl in daycare Thu/Fri would be more than enough. Well, Hubby and I decided it would be best to do full-time care, but we would start with M/T/W for November (between some planned time off and Thanksgiving we wouldn't have her in daycare very much on Thu/Fri this month).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babygirl started daycare yesterday. At the center's suggestion, we decided to do a gradual enrollment where Babygirl doesn't stay the whole day right away. Do half day first, gradually leaving her at daycare longer, so she can adjust. We discussed this with my FIL, and he said he could pick her up early this week and next week because his project was done. We planned for Babygirl to do half days this week (8-12noon). Well, yesterday FIL had to go into the office, so he didn't pick up Babygirl until 2:30pm. Then last night FIL tells Hubby that he has to go into the office all day today, so babygirl will have to stay in day care all day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize it's not the end of the world for Babygirl to be in daycare all day, but I'm really annoyed that FIL flaked again. Especially since he spent so much time trying to convince Hubby and I that daycare was unnecessary because he really could be reliable starting this week! Luckily Moosie has some flexibility and plans on picking Babygirl up at 2:30pm and working from home (my house) after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/this-time-its-fil.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109942248690817547?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109942248690817547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109942248690817547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109942248690817547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109942248690817547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/i-really-am-reliable.html' title='I really am reliable!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109935766243226054</id><published>2004-11-01T17:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-01T17:08:50.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How low can she go?</title><content type='html'>My MIL has sunk even lower than I thought she could go. I need to give a little back story for this rant - SIL is currently living in LA with her boyfriend (BF) of 3 years. MIL doesn't like BF because he's not Asian - and that is the only reason she doesn't like him. MIL actually told SIL that she didn't like BF because he was not Asian. What really sucks is that if she actually took her time to get to know this guy, she would realize that we was a nice guy that really cared about her daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to my vent - Over the weekend while SIL was visiting, MIL arranges with her friend's kids to introduce SIL to a guy. After the "introduction" my SIL had it out with her mom - basically telling her it was sneaky and underhanded to make arrangements like this. SIL also tells her mom that she feels like a prostitute being pimped out by her own mother. MIL tries to defend herself by saying that she didn't make the arrangements that her friend's kid set everything up. SIL asked her if her friends and their kid know she has a boyfriend, and MIL glossed over it. Then MIL further tries to justify herself by saying that it was just a meeting and there were no expectations - SIL was free to tell the guy that she had a boyfriend and that she wasn't interested in him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What makes this whole scenario worse (at least for me) is that just 2 months ago, MIL said she wanted to make an effort to get to know my SIL's boyfriend. We were all a little wary when MIL extended the "olive branch", but we figured we should give her the benefit of the doubt. We all thought my MIL had finally come to terms with the fact that she can't control who SIL falls in love with and that she was going to be happy that her daughter was happy - even if it didn't match her "dreams" for her child. This "introduction" makes her effort seem like a complete lie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm shocked but at the same time I'm not. I definitely feel she's capable of being manipulative, sneaky, underhanded, etc.. I was just hoping she had turned a corner on this issue. Amazing how this woman can be an even shittier person than I thought she was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109935766243226054?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109935766243226054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109935766243226054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109935766243226054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109935766243226054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/how-low-can-she-go.html' title='How low can she go?'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109933985371563466</id><published>2004-11-01T13:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-01T12:10:53.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trick-or-Treat!</title><content type='html'>Babygirl had a great Halloween! She was the cutest little panda! And she loved her costume! After we put her costume on, we had her look at herself in the mirror, and she totally smiled! Then she ran around the house giggling and just being excited. She also got into candy we were passing out and practiced putting candy into her pumpkin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took her trick-or-treating for the first time, and she had an entourage of 11 adults following her (me, Hubby, Moosie, my SIL, my FIL, my MIL, some friends of ours and some of our cousins). To the other people on the street, I'm sure Babygirl looked like some celebrity. People with cameras running after her and jumping in front of her to take pictures. Babygirl didn't seem to like the trick-or-treating part as much as we did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babygirl loved passing out candy though! Every time the doorbell rang, she'd run for the door and squeeze past the legs of whoever had opened the door and tried to put candy into the other kids pumpkins. And she waved and said, "Bye Bye" as they left. After awhile, Babygirl just started playing with the candy. She grabbed handfuls and dumped them in her lap and when she had a good pile going, she started tossing candy over shoulder one by one. We kept tossing the candy back in her pile, so eventually she just lay down on the pile, "swam", and giggled! Let me know if you want some smooshed chocolate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109933985371563466?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109933985371563466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109933985371563466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109933985371563466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109933985371563466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/11/trick-or-treat.html' title='Trick-or-Treat!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109907259283411384</id><published>2004-10-29T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-29T10:56:32.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's both of them!</title><content type='html'>Babygirl's going to be in daycare Thurs/Fri as well.  Hubby talked to my in-laws last night about daycare situation, and the talk didn't go very well. They pretty much tried to convince Hubby that we were doing the wrong thing. They felt that putting Babygirl into daycare (full-time or part-time) was unnecessary, and they actually told him that we were not handling this situation well. (Ummm.. yeah, we're the ones that are not handling this well.) They said if we could only find a backup babysitter then everything would be fine. (Gee.. we've only been trying to make this work for the past year. Funny how there aren't any backup babysitters available when you call them the day before.) Of course, they didn't know of any backups, but they suggested that we ask our neighbors. (All but one of the kids in our court are school-age kids that either go to daycare afterwards or they are old enough to stay at home alone. And the one kid who is Babygirl's age goes to daycare full-time.) Plus they said that it's not like they needed us to find a backup that often. (4 times this month alone - including today.) I'm so happy to be done with this issue. They'll probably bring it up for a few more months, but at least I'll have reliable care lined up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109907259283411384?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109907259283411384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109907259283411384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109907259283411384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109907259283411384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/its-both-of-them.html' title='It&apos;s both of them!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109898449423372649</id><published>2004-10-28T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-28T10:28:14.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This time it's the FIL</title><content type='html'>My in-laws will be the death of me. This time it's my FIL. We spoke with him about 3 weeks ago to determine which days we need to put Babygirl into daycare (he's currently her full-time babysitter) that would allow him to meet his work commitments (he works part-time on a project by project basis) without me having to take time off or scramble to find alternate babysitters when he has meetings. We decided to sign Babygirl up for Mon/Tues/Wed all day since those are the days that he's had the most meetings scheduled. Well, 2 nights ago, my FIL calls Hubby at 10:30pm to say, that Thurs/Fri works better for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My FIL insists that we can't use these last 6 months as a way to determine what days he'll be busy because the particular client is very unique, and he would not have to do as many last minute meetings ever again. He insists that from next week on, he'll be done with the client and be able to truly set his own schedule. And since he will be able to set his own schedule, he'll just make sure that all his meetings are set for Thursdays or Fridays. Oh and besides on Fridays, him and MIL have their ballroom dance lessons in Oakland and it would be good if he could get out there earlier. While I want to make things as easy as possible for my FIL since he is babysitting Babygirl for free, I'm totally pissed that he is trying to make last minute changes (again). He had 3 weeks to mull over the best days, and he decides the night of Babygirl's first day in daycare that the days we decided on don't actually work for him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been dealing with my FIL's schedule for a year now and no matter how many talks we have, how many things we put in place, he still calls us at the last minute to find alternate care at least once a week. And it's not always for work issues either! There have been too many times where he needed us to find alternate care for Babygirl because he wanted to go to dinner early or he was going to a timeshare/financial planning seminar or he wanted to go on a mini-vacation at the last minute. I don't have a problem with him wanting to do those things - I can take time off or work from home and Moosie is more than willing to do the same to help out but its very hard for us to ask our bosses for time off the day before. If it was an emergency situation or even just an occasional situation, our bosses have no problem being flexible, but once a week? Even the most understanding boss would start to feel taken advantage of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At any rate, we're still putting Babygirl in on Mon/Tues/Wed starting next week, and Hubby will be talking to FIL to see if he needs us to put her in on Thurs and Fri as well. I can't stress over this childcare issues anymore.  Hopefully Hubby doesn't back down other wise my next rant will be about him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109898449423372649?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109898449423372649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109898449423372649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109898449423372649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109898449423372649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/this-time-its-fil.html' title='This time it&apos;s the FIL'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109891916570406373</id><published>2004-10-27T16:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-27T16:25:23.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tough Day</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I went to pick Babygirl up at daycare around 4:30pm. She was being held by one of the teachers, and she looked so sad! Her eyes were a little puffy from crying, and she had this look on her face like she had figured she'd better learn to cope with her parents abandoning her. I ran up to her, grabbed her, and cuddled and kissed her, but she just looked at me with her sad, puffy little eyes! The teacher told me that Babygirl was fine most of the day, just every once in awhile she felt sad and needed to be cuddled. I felt so bad that Babygirl had a tough day that I started to cry. The teacher smiled and told me that first days were harder on the parents than they were on the children. After 10 minutes of cuddling, kissing, and crying, Babygirl scrambled down from my arms and happily played on the little plastic slide set with another little girl. I felt much better seeing that she wasn't permanently scarred. Another teacher then told me that for a child who's never been in daycare before, Babygirl adapted really well - she played with the other kids and seemed to enjoy herself and only needed a little bit of comfort. It was definitely a tough day for both of us. I hope this gets easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109891916570406373?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109891916570406373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109891916570406373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109891916570406373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109891916570406373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/tough-day.html' title='Tough Day'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109881273662912036</id><published>2004-10-26T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-26T10:45:36.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waaahhh!</title><content type='html'>Babygirl is going to daycare today! Hubby and FIL are meeting with the Director of the &lt;a href="http://kindercare.com/home.php3"&gt;daycare&lt;/a&gt; right now, and then Babygirl will be on her own from 11am on. I'm not sure I can handle this. This will be the first time she's in a day care situation (my FIL has been her babysitter since I went back to work), and I'm nervous. I hope she doesn't cry too much when Hubby and FIL leave. I hope she likes her teachers. I hope she'll have fun playing with the other kids. I know she enjoys being with other kids, so I'm pretty she'll have a good day once she gets over the fact that we left her there. Waaaahhhh! I think I'm going to cry.  At least my boss was nice enough to let me leave early today, so I can pick her up earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109881273662912036?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109881273662912036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109881273662912036' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109881273662912036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109881273662912036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/waaahhh.html' title='Waaahhh!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109873907826871681</id><published>2004-10-25T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-25T14:17:58.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dealing with my MIL</title><content type='html'>My MIL finds new ways to be annoying every day. Yesterday morning she left a message at 9:30am saying she bought a jacket for babygirl and wanted to drop it off. We called her back around 11am, and she said that she would be coming by after lunch. At 2:00pm, she hadn't shown up yet, so Hubby calls to see where she is. She tells him that her and my FIL just started making lunch, and they'll come by right after. At 4:00pm we get a call saying that my FIL needs to finish up a project, so that's why they're running late. But she plans on doing some shopping and will be by later. At 6:30pm, they still haven't show up yet, so we call again and they say they are just picking up dinner and will come by to eat with us. At 7:30, we call to see where they are, and my FIL says he needs to finish his project, so my MIL is coming over by herself. She finally arrives around 8:00pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After showing up 9 hours late, my MIL decides that she needs to convince me to join the ____ Association. The association is essentially a club that consists of everyone that is of the same last name. She tells me that I should join b/c some distant relative of my Hubby thinks I should. Plus babygirl needs to join because she's a ____ too. Hubby and I ask why babygirl and I need to join, and my MIL keeps saying because distant relative thinks we should plus if join we get a lifetime membership without having to pay any fees. I ask what the point or benefit of joining is since we've never done anything with the ____Association, and my MIL tells me that I can get $9 off the alcoholic beverages at the banquets they throw - the banquets that we've never gone to and will never go to. I point out that we've never gone and will never go to the banquets, so she changes her tact and tells me that so many people want to join that the association is thinking of limiting the memberships. So I tell her that I definitely shouldn't join then because I shouldn't take the spot of someone who really wanted it. She seemed pretty huffy that I wouldn't do what she wanted but she finally couldn't think of anything else to say. Anyone want to join the ____ Association in my place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109873907826871681?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109873907826871681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109873907826871681' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109873907826871681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109873907826871681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/dealing-with-my-mil.html' title='Dealing with my MIL'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109873713297225121</id><published>2004-10-25T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-23T16:00:37.320-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cast of characters - the family</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Babygirl:&lt;/strong&gt; My little girl! She's 15 months old right now and pretty much has everyone wrapped around her little finger. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me, but she is also the hardest thing that's ever happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hubby:&lt;/strong&gt; My college sweetheart. We've been together for 11 years and married for almost 3. He's a great dad who is completely in love with Babygirl. He's a pretty good husband but best of all he's willing to learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MIL:&lt;/strong&gt; My mother-in-law. Also known as the monster-in-law. She is the most annoying woman on earth. To be fair, I think the main problem between us is that we're completely different people and have a hard time understanding where the other person comes from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FIL:&lt;/strong&gt; My father-in-law. He's a pretty good guy. Overall I get along with him and find that we can have conversations My main issue with him is that for anything to do with family issues,I can't tell what he really thinks or wants because he's overshadowed by my MIL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.moosiemoose.blogspot.com/"&gt;Moosie&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt; My sister. We used to fight like crazy but now she's my best friend. I pretty much talk/email her everyday, and see her 4x a week. (Well technically, she comes over to see babygirl but I do see her while she's busy spoiling my daughter).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mommy:&lt;/strong&gt; My mother. We had a rocky relationship through my teenage years, but we're really close now. We talk 2-3x a week on the phone, and I have a much greater appreciation for my mom now that I'm a mother myself. She's very hip for her age, and I count on her to guide my clothing choices. Unfortunately, she moved to S. CA about 3 years ago because Daddy was transferred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Daddy:&lt;/strong&gt; My Father. Being the typical Asian father, he was a bit hands off while I was growing up. We're closer now, but we don't have a lot to say to each other. When I call him, he usually talks to me for a few minutes and passes the phone to my mom. Or if I call him when he's not with my mom, he talks for a few minutes and tells me to call my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SIL:&lt;/strong&gt; My sister-in-law. Under different circumstances, we'd probably only be acquaintances, but we get along well and truly care about each other. She moved to S. CA around the same time my parents did (mostly to get away from her own parents) and currently lives with her boyfriend (BF) of 3 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109873713297225121?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109873713297225121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109873713297225121' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109873713297225121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109873713297225121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/cast-of-characters-family.html' title='Cast of characters - the family'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792014.post-109846737376039244</id><published>2004-10-22T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-22T10:51:27.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm here!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I'm finally here! I and half of my public (ok that's really only 1 person but everyone is important) was having trouble accessing &lt;a href="my-soapbox.diaryland.com"&gt;my old blog&lt;/a&gt;, so my readers (anything more than one is plural) "begged" me to move to blogger, so here I am. Of course, now I need to think of something to write. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8792014-109846737376039244?l=justjook.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/feeds/109846737376039244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8792014&amp;postID=109846737376039244' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109846737376039244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8792014/posts/default/109846737376039244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://justjook.blogspot.com/2004/10/im-here.html' title='I&apos;m here!'/><author><name>justjook</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17329125513314901779</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
