<?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-2550055693554524404</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:50:12.611-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why are we going backwards?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-5446919486436478546</id><published>2010-12-25T13:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-25T13:33:41.582-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas 2010 Newsletter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/TRZe2faaAmI/AAAAAAAAADc/cTLrEJ6Ufpo/s1600/000148.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/TRZe2faaAmI/AAAAAAAAADc/cTLrEJ6Ufpo/s400/000148.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554731480646287970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it is pretty obvious how often I blog. NEVER. Well, once a year at least. This is our letter for 2010. I almost didn't do anything but decided I would try posting it instead for those who might want to read. We do wish everyone a Merry Christmas and hope the New Years brings new adventures and sweet blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-5446919486436478546?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/5446919486436478546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=5446919486436478546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/5446919486436478546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/5446919486436478546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2010/12/christmas-2010-newsletter.html' title='Christmas 2010 Newsletter'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/TRZe2faaAmI/AAAAAAAAADc/cTLrEJ6Ufpo/s72-c/000148.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-8183805736321109991</id><published>2009-12-29T13:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T13:22:32.158-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas 2009 Letter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Szpy5Qij-tI/AAAAAAAAAC8/BQi6WVldabM/s1600-h/2009christmasblog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Szpy5Qij-tI/AAAAAAAAAC8/BQi6WVldabM/s400/2009christmasblog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420771429511854802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-8183805736321109991?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/8183805736321109991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=8183805736321109991' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/8183805736321109991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/8183805736321109991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-2009-letter.html' title='Christmas 2009 Letter'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Szpy5Qij-tI/AAAAAAAAAC8/BQi6WVldabM/s72-c/2009christmasblog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-3790888906298452494</id><published>2009-05-16T10:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T10:15:46.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If you ever wondered . . . now you know!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Sg7y1mqA5sI/AAAAAAAAACg/8c0gtmeSRzg/s1600-h/DSC_0075.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Sg7y1mqA5sI/AAAAAAAAACg/8c0gtmeSRzg/s320/DSC_0075.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336469611204372162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have ever wondered what would happen if you left Hawaiian Punch within the reach of an 18 month old, now you know.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brynlie has turned into such a busy body and I can't control her anymore.  We go through numerous outfits a day and now we just bathe on a "as needed" basis because it is usually 1-2 a day.  She can get out of her chair and the table, she can squirm out of the stroller straps, and she stands up in the carts at the store.  It wouldn't be so bad if she would let you hold her hand or hold her, but she wants nothing like that.  If the outside door is left a tiny bit open she is out the door and in the street.  If you leave her outside in the back for a second she has sand, grass, anything gross she can find on her hands and in her mouth.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we will consider ourselves lucky if we make it to two.  Right now I am just trying to keep her alive one day at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-3790888906298452494?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/3790888906298452494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=3790888906298452494' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/3790888906298452494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/3790888906298452494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-you-ever-wondered-now-you-know.html' title='If you ever wondered . . . now you know!'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Sg7y1mqA5sI/AAAAAAAAACg/8c0gtmeSRzg/s72-c/DSC_0075.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-8922636343625095164</id><published>2009-05-13T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T19:02:10.124-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Costco Cupcakes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Sg9v1AiakYI/AAAAAAAAACw/TwLMNkeFmFo/s1600-h/costco+cupcakes.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Sg9v1AiakYI/AAAAAAAAACw/TwLMNkeFmFo/s320/costco+cupcakes.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336607039925424514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Sg9v05aLTJI/AAAAAAAAACo/58z8s5Fy3Tw/s1600-h/costco+cupcakes2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Sg9v05aLTJI/AAAAAAAAACo/58z8s5Fy3Tw/s320/costco+cupcakes2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336607038011821202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I was just blogging about an infatuation I have with those shoes, it made me think of other things I long for.  Costco cupcakes are one of those things.  I did a search to find an image and found there are others out there that share the same fondness for the cupcakes but there is one exception, I special order mine with CREAM CHEESE FROSTING.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some may think, that this doesn't make a difference but I really do have to disagree.  It doesn't matter if it is chocolate or vanilla cake (I do favor the vanilla slightly more) they are both delicious with CREAM CHEESE FROSTING. And I also beg them to not put the sprinkles on.  Yucko! Capital letters on the order sheet, "NO CONFETTI PLEASE! NO CONFETTI!" They are on coupon for the next couple weeks and I am honestly wondering if I should get 2 boxes.  That is 40 cupcakes people.  And not only is 40 a lot, they are super sized. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can one consume so many cupcakes, you wonder, before they go bad?  Well, I have to admit, I have it down to a science.  I freeze them in containers that hold 3 and pull them out when I need them.  This is usually about 7:30 or 8:00 at night after the dinner has worn off and the kids are screaming and needing baths.  I sit and eat half to a full cupcake with a glass of milk and that takes care of my craving.  Until the next night . . .  and so on.  I honestly think I might be addicted to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I do share with my family, even though I don't think they share the same love.  But I would share a lot more if I had a good stockpile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-8922636343625095164?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/8922636343625095164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=8922636343625095164' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/8922636343625095164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/8922636343625095164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/05/costco-cupcakes.html' title='Costco Cupcakes'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/Sg9v1AiakYI/AAAAAAAAACw/TwLMNkeFmFo/s72-c/costco+cupcakes.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-2996545773836300763</id><published>2009-05-13T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T21:14:23.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My new infatuation . . . another pair of shoes!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SguQ8Mi2jYI/AAAAAAAAACY/50uH89G-TWk/s1600-h/harvest+top.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SguQ8Mi2jYI/AAAAAAAAACY/50uH89G-TWk/s320/harvest+top.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335517547384442242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SguPetwNOpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/r7GKBboYZXk/s1600-h/Harvest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SguPetwNOpI/AAAAAAAAACQ/r7GKBboYZXk/s320/Harvest.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335515941391121042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was at the park this afternoon, pushing kids on the swing, and what did I see but a pair of these cute shoes!!  I stared at them and then noticed they were KEENS, my new favorite brand of shoe.  So I needed to come home and find them.  I had to know all about them.  Well, a couple of google searches and I found them.  And I still really like them.  The feel they are a little GREEN because they are made out of recycled rice paper and so I would be doing my part.  (insert wink smiley face here).  And they are cute, that is also how I like to contribute to the world is with cute shoes.  Because I did get a bunch of shoes for my birthday, I may have to wait for another excuse to get these.  And the best part about waiting is I might decide I really don't need them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to give credit to the girl at the park for wearing these and also &lt;a href="http://www.zappos.com"&gt;Zappos&lt;/a&gt; for the pictures, which I highly recommend for online shoe buying!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-2996545773836300763?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/2996545773836300763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=2996545773836300763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/2996545773836300763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/2996545773836300763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-new-infatuation-another-pair-of.html' title='My new infatuation . . . another pair of shoes!'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SguQ8Mi2jYI/AAAAAAAAACY/50uH89G-TWk/s72-c/harvest+top.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-1338644109929877711</id><published>2009-02-18T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T20:03:06.360-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SZzZgyMS3VI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ba1wFArZUb0/s1600-h/DSC_0006.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SZzZgyMS3VI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ba1wFArZUb0/s320/DSC_0006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304353618387983698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was my son's inchworm for the cake contest at the Blue and Gold Banquet.  He received the award for "the creepiest" cake.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-1338644109929877711?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/1338644109929877711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=1338644109929877711' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/1338644109929877711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/1338644109929877711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-was-my-sons-inchworm-for-cake.html' title=''/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SZzZgyMS3VI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ba1wFArZUb0/s72-c/DSC_0006.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-6919124270278844664</id><published>2009-02-11T08:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T21:18:31.694-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mornings with Lilly</title><content type='html'>This is taken off of an iChat with Lilly's Dad and I, I was typing and she was talking. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I am playing "name that movie" with lilly. "I want to watch enchanted but not the movie with the step mother, and there are just people and a golden dress, with two people and no animals and it has 2 princes and two princesses nooooo not enchanted it doesn't have two boys, I want the other one”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;any guesses? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is just the music video. let's try that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ding.  One point for mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(a few minutes later)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now here is a new movie:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“it has 2 boys and 2 girls and the boy dog and a girl cat and a boy cat only one boy cat and only 2 boys cats there’s a tall boy that is a people and its has another boy that's a tall person boy and 2 persons girl and a nice girl mother that's a queen that is not mean she is nice”&lt;br /&gt;no idea...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me either, luckily she lost interest and the last thing she said was, mom, but I want some bubble gum. Now she just said, mom but I want a princess movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-6919124270278844664?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/6919124270278844664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=6919124270278844664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/6919124270278844664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/6919124270278844664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/02/mornings-with-lilly.html' title='Mornings with Lilly'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-4276204453894088717</id><published>2009-02-08T18:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T18:41:24.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nobody did it!</title><content type='html'>I remember growing up and having my dad pace around the house asking us kids how something got broken.  And a lot of times . . . nobody did it.  I mean it nobody.  He always thought it was sooo strange like we were maybe trying to hide something.  But yesterday, I realized, sometimes nobody does do it.  My husband pulled up the blinds in the nursery and the window was cracked from top to bottom on the inside.  The crib in nowhere near the window, the baby doesn't throw things, the other kids go in there to get a toy or a diaper once and a while.  There is no explanation.  NOBODY lives and my house now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-4276204453894088717?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/4276204453894088717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=4276204453894088717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/4276204453894088717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/4276204453894088717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/02/nobody-did-it.html' title='Nobody did it!'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-8324817253792934446</id><published>2009-02-08T18:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T18:35:40.484-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My air duct is cleaner than yours!</title><content type='html'>Is that bad to say?  Well, the only reason it is clean, is because I HAD to clean it.  Isn't that the only reason anyone cleans the air ducts?  I had just sat down to enjoy my dinner and my daughter wanted to share and accidentally spilled my full cup of milk on to her sister who sits above a vent.  Well we grabbed towels and I thought we were doing OK until my son says, "mom, it is going into the vent."  I didn't have the time right then, I had a soaking baby and other kids trying to eat.  Dad was gone for the night and so, on to the next thing.  While the baby was in the tub and I was trying to get dishes done and encouraging homework and reading, my 4 year old informs me the baby has pooped in the tub.  Stop the dishes, out with the baby, cleaned out the tub.  Bleached the tub.  Rinsed the tub.  Started a new bath, by this time the baby was not interested in the tub anymore, screaming, fits, baths, dishes, teeth brushed, homework and bed.  No vent cleaning.  The next morning my project began.  Mirrors and flashlights in tow, shop vac, scrubbing sponge, cleansers and 20 minutes later. . .  my vent sparkles.  So I think that is worth bragging about.  It is cleaner than yours, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-8324817253792934446?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/8324817253792934446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=8324817253792934446' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/8324817253792934446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/8324817253792934446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-air-duct-is-cleaner-than-yours.html' title='My air duct is cleaner than yours!'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-4645462345607991403</id><published>2009-01-13T15:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T17:10:24.240-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"It doesn't care!!!"</title><content type='html'>"It doesn't care!"  This is what my almost 7 year old daughter has been saying lately when "She doesn't care" or likewise "It doesn't matter" to her.  She doesn't even catch herself saying it really.  I will ask her, "who is IT?" and she looks at me like&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; I'M&lt;/span&gt; crazy.  So it is starting to catch on a little.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the subject of funny things kids say.  My 4 year old daughter said, "Did I see what I saw?"  She is in that stage where her sounds and words frequently get mixed up, so there are a lot of funny things that come out of her mouth.  My recent favorite was when her dad kept teasing her about something and she was obviously not finding it funny anymore and I said, "Hun, you are . . ." and before I could get out what I was going to say, she filled in the blank with ". . . a jerk!"  I don't think she has heard that a lot and doesn't really know what it means, but it fit and it was funny!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple more I can think of: I will keep adding when I can remember more.&lt;br /&gt;Cute little cutie! (K) about her baby sister&lt;br /&gt;Handydowns (K) hand-me-downs&lt;br /&gt;bo-ing = boring&lt;br /&gt;anoise-ing = annoying&lt;br /&gt;Mom, say where Lilly is (when hiding)&lt;br /&gt;People Beauty and the Beast (not the cartoon movie)&lt;br /&gt;catty=kitty&lt;br /&gt;click clock=tick tock&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-4645462345607991403?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/4645462345607991403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=4645462345607991403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/4645462345607991403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/4645462345607991403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/01/it-doesnt-care.html' title='&quot;It doesn&apos;t care!!!&quot;'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-7743767941818453026</id><published>2009-01-11T14:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T14:11:03.629-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Once there was a snowman . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SWptapWaoYI/AAAAAAAAABQ/OrAbZ5f7NNY/s1600-h/DSC_0020.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SWptapWaoYI/AAAAAAAAABQ/OrAbZ5f7NNY/s320/DSC_0020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290161016843968898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SWptMFU4KaI/AAAAAAAAABI/vvbRwoRc99o/s1600-h/DSC_0018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SWptMFU4KaI/AAAAAAAAABI/vvbRwoRc99o/s320/DSC_0018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290160766655670690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been trying to get a bunch of unfinished projects done, so I can get to the real important, most needed project, huge, yucky project ever - MY OFFICE.  It has fallen completely into an abyss of shambles.  Not only is my office crazy but the "storage room" that shares a room with my office is also falling apart.  I just need some undisturbed "time" to get in there and do something and I keep putting it off.  So, because I am a procrastinator in every definition of the word I am doing other much needed projects first to make sure I don't have any more excuses.  For example, when I have to pack for a trip, my bathrooms NEED to be cleaned, the floor MUST be mopped and the garage NEEDS to be rearranged.  Maybe I should just plan a trip . . . actually this is probably why I am taking time to blog, I have stuff to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is one of the projects. A snowman kit that I bought about 3 years ago.  It is unfinished wood.  You paint it and glue in the dowels and you are done.  3 years?  Well, I had 3 sets of the snowman and 2 sets of a jack-o-lantern kit and kids that every time you get anything remotely different or fun out want to "help."  And that is nice, when you have the time.  Anyway, I got these done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have to go to the post office.  Oh, it looks like the office might get done after all.  (I HATE GOING TO THE POST OFFICE!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-7743767941818453026?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/7743767941818453026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=7743767941818453026' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/7743767941818453026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/7743767941818453026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-i-have-been-trying-to-get-bunch-of_11.html' title='Once there was a snowman . . .'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SWptapWaoYI/AAAAAAAAABQ/OrAbZ5f7NNY/s72-c/DSC_0020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2550055693554524404.post-9025871027220437845</id><published>2008-11-22T11:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T10:46:07.038-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't take it anymore!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;It is official.  I am starting a blog.  I can't take the pressure I am giving myself anymore.  I read my friends' and family's blogs and think, "they are so fun."  They have shared events big and small, written letters to children, voiced opinions, shared insights, etc.  But most of all they are &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;DOCUMENTING&lt;/span&gt; their lives and their families.  I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;need&lt;/span&gt; to do this.  I forget details so quickly and with my children changing all the time, I need to take some time and write the cute stories.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, the story to start will be the story behind the title of the blog.  Why are we going backwards?  Don't we feel like that ALL THE TIME?  We try so hard to keep up and prepare and get stuff done and go and go and really, are we going backward or forward?  For me in my life right now it seems backwards is more often the case.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think this hit me the hardest on our family vacation this last summer (2008).  We left Sunday afternoon to drive to San Diego.  We had it all planned out, let the kids sleep and do the long trip in one day.  When we hit the Nevada/California border - no joke - we passed the sign that said California and ten feet after we were stopped in traffic.  We learned that everyone in California goes to Las Vegas for the weekend and goes home on Sunday evening.  It was a two lane road, we were going up an incline and you could see the cars for miles.  We moved inches.  Minutes just kept passing and the cars just kept crawling.  The kids kept asking, why are we going so slow?  When will we get to go again? We did see signs of an accident which only caused more stress in the little van that was also becoming smaller.  Now an hour had passed and we had moved maybe 7 miles.  Again, we were stopped, but the other lane was slowly slowly moving and our 3 year old daughter looks up as a semi is barely moving forward next to us.  She then yells from the back of the van, "why are we going backwards?"  That was the stress breaker we needed.  Dan and I laughed for a good five minutes, tears, side aches and stiff cheeks.  The other kids didn't understand why we were laughing so much and we had to try and explain through the laughter how it really did seem as if we were going backwards!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2550055693554524404-9025871027220437845?l=whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/feeds/9025871027220437845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2550055693554524404&amp;postID=9025871027220437845' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/9025871027220437845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2550055693554524404/posts/default/9025871027220437845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://whyarewegoingbackwards.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-cant-take-it-anymore.html' title='I can&apos;t take it anymore!!!!'/><author><name>Aimee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15147110056387744255</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EM7bZt4dIdw/SShcaKAhDyI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6EyuGLTWC3s/S220/_MG_0058.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
