<?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-8488303957371371664</id><updated>2012-02-11T12:46:45.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>....Because Life is Funny</title><subtitle type='html'>I find myself laughing out loud a lot these days....mostly because of my daughter, Bella. She amazes me with her charm and her 3-year-old wisdom. We are so busy with work, laundry, errands, life....sometimes we forget that life is funny and we need to enjoy the ride.

Feel free to check in once in a while...when you need a laugh or to share your own laugh-out-loud moments.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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>126</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-875113737266521770</id><published>2012-01-12T15:03:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T21:12:05.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We are Family</title><content type='html'>I learned a lot about my 'family' this week. I have always had a very supportive family... my husband, my daughter, my mom, dad, sister, in-laws, etc., and I am forever grateful for all of them. But this week, my family got much bigger.  My family also includes the people that are around at a moments notice when needed, the people that over the years, have helped us move, driven us to the airport, painted walls in our house. They are the people that I run half-marathons with, the people I call for parenting advice, the people I work with and play with and travel with. They are the women that I admire that are amazing mothers and support each other at the hardest job we will ever have. They are the men that take care of us and love us and make us feel safe. They are the children that make us smile and keep us young and give us hope. They are the people that I have spent the last 7 years with for Thanksgiving and Christmas.  They are all the people who gathered yesterday to say good-bye to our dear friend, our brother. They are the people that shared tears and laughter in rememberence.  They are the people that, in the years to come, will try to help fill the empty space. They are the people who will continue to support each other in good times and bad. They are my family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-875113737266521770?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/875113737266521770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=875113737266521770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/875113737266521770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/875113737266521770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2012/01/we-are-family.html' title='We are Family'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-22599613380989437</id><published>2012-01-06T07:38:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T07:51:32.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;On October 12, 2002, our friend Scotty stood up reluctantly to read a verse at my wedding. It was not something he really wanted to do, to speak in front of a large crowd. But he did it, for us. As he started to read, a small, LOUD airplane flew overhead and started to drown out his voice. He paused for a moment as we all looked up at the plane and chuckled. But Scotty didn't let it stop him. He just smiled and read louder. The words he read will remain in my heart forever:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Verdana; color: rgb(51, 50, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Verdana; color: rgb(51, 50, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;it is not arrogant or rude.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Verdana; color: rgb(51, 50, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Verdana; color: rgb(51, 50, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Verdana; color: rgb(51, 50, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Verdana; color: rgb(51, 50, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;endures all things. Love never ends."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Yesterday morning I received the news that Scotty died suddenly in an accident. The first few hours of the day were spent in disbelief. The rest of the day was spent talking to friends and family, trying to comprehend that this had really happened. The tears came and went uncontrollably. It just didn't seem real.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;At the end of the day, a gorgeous sunny Colorado day, I walked slowly to pick up my daughter from school. On the way home, I talked to my beautiful innocent 7 year old about death. About the death of our friend. I told her why we were so sad and what death really means. I told her that her two little friends were going to be very sad for a long time because their Daddy was gone. I assured her that most of the time, Mommies and Daddies live to be old and gray. I assured her that she should not worry about her Daddy or me. I held her hand and made sure she was OK and she understood. Later in the evening, I watched my strong, rock of a husband weep at the loss of his friend. He spent the entire day trying to make a small dent in the incredible list of things that need to be done when someone dies. He spent the entire day fighting back the tears. I am completely heartbroken and utterly at a loss, thinking of my friend and her two sweet little girls that are devastated and in shock over the loss of their husband and father. I am completely heartbroken for their families and for our friends. All I could do all night was send love and thoughts their way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But there is one thing that I know, something Scotty taught me 10 years ago. When life is tough, when that loud little plane flies over your head and tries to drown out your voice … keep going. Smile. Don't give up. Love louder!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; min-height: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;All my love to you Lisa, Ali, Riley, and all of your family and all of our amazing friends. I miss you Scotty and our love for you will last forever. Rest in peace friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zzGK3yr559c/TwcJV0tYcjI/AAAAAAAAAa4/KUz-rqy7lTw/s1600/thanksgiving.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&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/-zzGK3yr559c/TwcJV0tYcjI/AAAAAAAAAa4/KUz-rqy7lTw/s320/thanksgiving.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694530524364173874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6AdK4x3HCO8/TwcJVTIl52I/AAAAAAAAAaw/i1N3EwLksVc/s1600/xmaseve.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6AdK4x3HCO8/TwcJVTIl52I/AAAAAAAAAaw/i1N3EwLksVc/s320/xmaseve.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694530515351496546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k9rphwhchR0/TwcJVV3xUWI/AAAAAAAAAag/OJQlaYR0pbo/s1600/165113_1752555619890_1418896406_1887809_2325463_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k9rphwhchR0/TwcJVV3xUWI/AAAAAAAAAag/OJQlaYR0pbo/s320/165113_1752555619890_1418896406_1887809_2325463_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694530516086247778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IZsfJ7Hyj54/TwcJVN4RFSI/AAAAAAAAAaY/JUPGgWH6BbY/s1600/165036_1752555859896_1418896406_1887810_958135_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IZsfJ7Hyj54/TwcJVN4RFSI/AAAAAAAAAaY/JUPGgWH6BbY/s320/165036_1752555859896_1418896406_1887810_958135_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694530513940845858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-22599613380989437?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/22599613380989437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=22599613380989437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/22599613380989437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/22599613380989437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2012/01/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zzGK3yr559c/TwcJV0tYcjI/AAAAAAAAAa4/KUz-rqy7lTw/s72-c/thanksgiving.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7640748178977925786</id><published>2011-11-09T11:50:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T12:10:46.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When I Grow Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0N0b5JU530s/TrrP-BhhsMI/AAAAAAAAAZY/3h0yS-VYwnc/s1600/DSC_0132.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0N0b5JU530s/TrrP-BhhsMI/AAAAAAAAAZY/3h0yS-VYwnc/s320/DSC_0132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673075345094455490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago, Bella proudly announced "Mom! I changed my mind on what I am going to be when I grow up. I am going to be an Author &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; an Illustrator."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I was proud. Not only for her new creative career choice, but because for the last year or so every time I ask her what she wants to do for a living she has replied, "I'm going to be an Ice Cream Taster".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don't get me wrong,  if Ben and Jerry called to offer &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; the job, I may consider packing up the family and moving to Vermont. The thought of eating 'Late Night Snack" and "Chubby Hubby" every day does sound like a dream job. But then again, opportunities for advancement are limited (because really, what could be better than tasting ice cream...maybe ice cream &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; cake taster?), it gets really cold in Vermont in the winter and I don't  like eating ice cream when I am cold, and then there's the health risks...daily brain freezes could cause permanent damage...you never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So while Ice Cream Taster sounds like a fun job, I think Author and Illustrator sounds like even more fun. And from the impressive stories and pictures the kid is already writing and drawing at age 7, I think she has a pretty good shot at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for now, we'll just be amateur ice cream tasters. I think I hear Ben &amp;amp; Jerry calling now, from the freezer...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7640748178977925786?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7640748178977925786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7640748178977925786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7640748178977925786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7640748178977925786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2011/11/when-i-grow-up.html' title='When I Grow Up'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0N0b5JU530s/TrrP-BhhsMI/AAAAAAAAAZY/3h0yS-VYwnc/s72-c/DSC_0132.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-4034715022802231859</id><published>2011-09-28T09:28:00.012-06:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T12:15:14.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Countdown to Disney</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y3-Zur5mV7k/ToNALbwr0gI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/Dn_U4eXXg5U/s1600/disney1972.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rFXt4FATi84/ToNAE8aEe-I/AAAAAAAAAZI/7Y81Xkjg-vM/s1600/disney.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rFXt4FATi84/ToNAE8aEe-I/AAAAAAAAAZI/7Y81Xkjg-vM/s320/disney.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657436010586602466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Woke this morning to find Daddy &amp;amp;  Bella's countdown to Disney drawn on the family chalkboard. One week  from today we'll head off to sunny Florida for the adventure we have  been planning for what seems like years. Numerous phone calls to my  incredibly helpful cousin (whose husband works at the park) for hotel recommendations,  park tips, travel arrangements; hours and hours of searching online for  the list of attractions we don't want to miss; and day after day, night  after night of daydreaming with  a 7 year old on how much fun we are going to have...and it is now a  mere 7 days away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y3-Zur5mV7k/ToNALbwr0gI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/Dn_U4eXXg5U/s1600/disney1972.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y3-Zur5mV7k/ToNALbwr0gI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/Dn_U4eXXg5U/s320/disney1972.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657436122082169346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My mom, sister and I - Disney World 1972&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disney World has changed a LOT since 1972. The park had been open less than a year on my first visit.  Some of the attractions were not even finished yet. There was no Epcot, no Hollywood studios, construction of the famous Space Mountain had not even begun yet. But the magic of Disney was still there. Right from the start Walt Disney had a dream of creating a magical world and right from the start it did not disappoint.  I was 3 years old. I  don't remember one thing about it. But I am assured now by my parents that my sister and I were as excited about the trip then as kids are today. They also tell me that I was  terrified of the Disney characters in costume and did a  lot of crying (sounds about right, I was a very shy child...believe it or  not). Nonetheless, we had a great time (thankfully, with photos to prove I wasn't crying the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;entire&lt;/span&gt; time! ).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as I plan the trip next week with my &lt;span&gt;own&lt;/span&gt; daughter, I hope to fill our scrapbook with photos of fun and adventure. Splash Mountain, Pirates of the Caribbean,  Toy Story, Hollywood Studios,  Animal Kindom, Mickey's fireworks, Tea Cups, It's a Small World, and  more (and lucky for Mommy, Daddy &amp;amp; Abuela, it's Food &amp;amp; Wine  Festival at Epcot while we are there too!) When I suggested lunch at the castle with Cinderella I was informed that "Princesses are for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; girls Mommy", so we are having breakfast with the Mad Hatter instead. I can't wait to see the look on her face as we enter the park. That alone will make the trip worth it. A little girls dream coming to reality in just 7 days. Let the adventures begin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-4034715022802231859?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/4034715022802231859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=4034715022802231859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4034715022802231859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4034715022802231859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2011/09/countdown-to-disney.html' title='Countdown to Disney'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rFXt4FATi84/ToNAE8aEe-I/AAAAAAAAAZI/7Y81Xkjg-vM/s72-c/disney.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2445655150970766603</id><published>2010-10-07T20:29:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T20:40:19.596-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mind the Gap</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/TK6EjZwDWxI/AAAAAAAAAW8/iOKzohbEM30/s1600/tooth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/TK6EjZwDWxI/AAAAAAAAAW8/iOKzohbEM30/s320/tooth.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525499536572898066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I haven't been writing in the blog lately, but I have to check back in once in a while to document some important moments in history...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Tonight, as we sat down to eat dinner, Bella's very wiggly tooth plopped right out of her mouth and into her spaghetti. We celebrated with a toast and three cheers! The generous tooth fairy will come tonight (HE insisted the first one is worth a ten-spot!), so the excitement will continue tomorrow morning. I just stopped in her disaster-of-a-room to wish her good-night and told her that she should clean it up because the Tooth Fairy might trip on something on her way in. She replied, matter-of-factly, "Fairies fly Mommy, she'll be fine". &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/8488303957371371664-2445655150970766603?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2445655150970766603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2445655150970766603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2445655150970766603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2445655150970766603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2010/10/mind-gap.html' title='Mind the Gap'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/TK6EjZwDWxI/AAAAAAAAAW8/iOKzohbEM30/s72-c/tooth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7805229832015427577</id><published>2010-01-01T21:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T21:53:47.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OK, Maybe Just One More</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(85, 85, 85); "&gt;So my kid is in the tub and she yells for me, then says, "Mommy, smell in this cup" and hands me a plastic cup out of the tub. I say "why?" and she laughs and says "I tooted in it." She could only have gotten that trait from her father.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7805229832015427577?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7805229832015427577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7805229832015427577' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7805229832015427577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7805229832015427577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2010/01/ok-maybe-just-one-more.html' title='OK, Maybe Just One More'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-4937244330911452058</id><published>2009-12-16T18:59:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T19:32:22.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's The End of the Blog As We Know It</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SymYMWV6EII/AAAAAAAAAWk/v_udFP2tGwI/s1600-h/thisone.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SymYMWV6EII/AAAAAAAAAWk/v_udFP2tGwI/s320/thisone.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416027364813049986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Since my last post, Bella started Kindergarten, has learned to read, grew about 5 inches and she has just gotten smarter and smarter every day. Between school &amp;amp; homework, play dates, vacations, skiing, ballet lessons, duck hunting (yup, little girl's a ballerina and a hunter!), trips to the playground, etc. etc. etc., my time for keeping the blog updated has dwindled away. So while I'll say good-bye online, the words I have written for the past 2 years will be soon published in hardcover - forever in print to someday embarrass and torment my beautiful and beloved daughter! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So looking back to my very first entry, I'll end with this simple message:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Take a moment each day to laugh out loud...Because Life is Funny...Enjoy the ride!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-4937244330911452058?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/4937244330911452058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=4937244330911452058' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4937244330911452058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4937244330911452058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/12/its-end-of-blog-as-we-know-it.html' title='It&apos;s The End of the Blog As We Know It'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SymYMWV6EII/AAAAAAAAAWk/v_udFP2tGwI/s72-c/thisone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1718402626418053505</id><published>2009-10-12T19:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T19:45:26.066-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's beginning to look a lot like winter...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/StPbincMUII/AAAAAAAAAVM/hN0NsSiEbhA/s1600-h/warmncudly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/StPbincMUII/AAAAAAAAAVM/hN0NsSiEbhA/s320/warmncudly.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391894566641881218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last night it was a cold night. Bella crawled up onto my bed so we could read some books before going to sleep. The dog had been laying right where she wanted to sit so of course, the dog got kicked out and moped off to find another place to curl up. Bella noticed that the bed was nice and warm where Zaidy had been laying. She jumped right under the covers and yelled, "Mmm mmm...warm and cuddly, here I come!"  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know it's been a while since I last wrote, but the laugh out loud moments are still an every day occurrence. I'll try to be better about sharing them again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1718402626418053505?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1718402626418053505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1718402626418053505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1718402626418053505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1718402626418053505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/10/its-beginning-to-look-lot-like-winter.html' title='It&apos;s beginning to look a lot like winter...'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/StPbincMUII/AAAAAAAAAVM/hN0NsSiEbhA/s72-c/warmncudly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1751128636903752166</id><published>2009-08-04T10:46:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T10:46:50.751-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming soon...</title><content type='html'>I know I've been slacking lately, but it's summer time! We've been having too much fun. Stay tuned...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1751128636903752166?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1751128636903752166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1751128636903752166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1751128636903752166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1751128636903752166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/08/coming-soon.html' title='Coming soon...'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1791807941362172533</id><published>2009-06-18T15:11:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T15:13:59.191-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Like Mother, Like Daughter</title><content type='html'>I can hear Bella in the next room playing with her friend. They are searching for treasures and playing dress up. I peek out and her friend has on some sunglasses and a hat and he says "I am going to be the mailman." As Bella puts on some fancy shoes with feathers on them, she replies "I am going to be Shoe Girl!"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's my girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1791807941362172533?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1791807941362172533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1791807941362172533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1791807941362172533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1791807941362172533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/06/like-mother-like-daughter.html' title='Like Mother, Like Daughter'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1310063084407296293</id><published>2009-06-02T21:14:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T21:18:02.999-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Car Talk</title><content type='html'>Today after running some errands, I was unpacking the car and Bella was still sitting in her car seat. I made 2 or 3 trips in to the house and she was still sitting there when everything was unloaded. I asked her, "What are you waiting for?" to which she replied, "Christmas."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank goodness she didn't pick up some of the worse things I say while stuck behind slow drivers!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1310063084407296293?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1310063084407296293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1310063084407296293' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1310063084407296293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1310063084407296293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/06/car-talk.html' title='Car Talk'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1058075109309865976</id><published>2009-05-22T22:44:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T23:06:39.173-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Enjoy the Ride</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SheD4hpytQI/AAAAAAAAAUs/rup1iJDpijs/s1600-h/curly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SheD4hpytQI/AAAAAAAAAUs/rup1iJDpijs/s320/curly.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338880890400584962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I am a night owl. Love to stay up late. Mornings...not so much. 10 years ago I liked to stay up late, to stay OUT late, because that's when the fun happened. Meeting up with friends to party, talk, laugh until the wee hours of the morning. But things are different now. Now I like to stay up late for the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;quiet&lt;/span&gt;. Everyone is sleeping and it is peaceful at the end of the day. When I finally call it a night, I give my little girl a kiss and whisper in her ear, "I love you". She is sound asleep, dead to the world. Her energy completely drained from living each day to the fullest. She has not stopped thinking and learning (&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and taking!&lt;/span&gt;) since the moment she woke and tomorrow she'll do it all over again. I am in awe of her energy. Tonight, I too will go to bed completely exhausted, and in the morning I will wake way too early for my own good. But I don't mind. I don't want to miss a moment of it. Life is too short. There is too much to learn and see and do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Reminds me of one of my favorite James Taylor songs:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time&lt;br /&gt;Any fool can do it&lt;br /&gt;There aint nothing to it&lt;br /&gt;Nobody knows how we got to&lt;br /&gt;The top of the hill&lt;br /&gt;But since were on our way down&lt;br /&gt;We might as well enjoy the ride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Good night...and enjoy the ride.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/8488303957371371664-1058075109309865976?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1058075109309865976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1058075109309865976' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1058075109309865976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1058075109309865976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/05/enjoy-ride.html' title='Enjoy the Ride'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SheD4hpytQI/AAAAAAAAAUs/rup1iJDpijs/s72-c/curly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-4160177704691766721</id><published>2009-05-10T22:18:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T11:15:37.027-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Every Day is Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>Five years ago on Mother's Day, I was riding home from the hospital with my one-day-old daughter. I was excited and exhausted, overjoyed and overwhelmed, completely in love with my tiny beautiful baby and completely terrified, all at the same time. I'll never forget that day.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday, we celebrated Bella's 5th birthday, surrounded by friends. When the party was over, she and I sat outside eating just one more piece of cake and enjoying the last minutes of the warm sun. I watched as she played with all her new toys, her face filled with joy. It was a great day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today it is Mother's Day once again and I am thankful for my own mother - who supports me in everything I do and is always there for me. I know now how hard it was for her to raise my sister and I. And I know now that the love between a mother and her child is never ending.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I am thankful for my mother-in-laws, who treat me like their own daughter and for the rest of my family and my family-in-law, who I also love very much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am in awe of all of my girlfriends who have become amazing mothers. We share a special bond now. All of motherhood's ups and downs make us stronger and wiser and better human beings. We laugh together, cry together, share advice and stories. We survive the tough days with a spur of the moment play date, or plan a girls night out to regain our momentum. We support each other because we know how important our jobs as mothers are. All of you have inspired me more than you know, and for that I thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am blessed with a husband who loves me for who I am, and tells me so every day. He is a wonderful father and it shows. My favorite moment of the day is when he walks in from work and I hear, "Daddy!" and the sounds of little feet running to the door. Thank you Daddy for all that you do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not a day goes by that I don't know just how lucky I am. My daughter has taught me more about life in the past 5 years, than I have learned in my almost 40. By stopping to see the bright green grass growing in a crack in the sidewalk, or wiping away my tears when I lost a loved one. She gets it. Not because she doesn't yet know the evils of the world, but because she chooses to see the good.  She is funny, charming, and she knows that unconditional love is the best thing life has to offer - and when we adults forget that, she is quick to remind us. And it works every time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So thank you my families, my friends, my husband and my beautiful daughter. Thank you for making me the mother and woman that I am today. I couldn't do any of it without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Mother's Day.&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;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-4160177704691766721?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/4160177704691766721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=4160177704691766721' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4160177704691766721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4160177704691766721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/05/every-day-is-mothers-day.html' title='Every Day is Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-5935560211723820164</id><published>2009-05-06T16:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T16:03:14.627-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rules are Rules</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SgII0y8wxxI/AAAAAAAAAUk/5gETEWONYUk/s1600-h/misscolorado.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SgII0y8wxxI/AAAAAAAAAUk/5gETEWONYUk/s320/misscolorado.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332834611882936082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess she'll never be Miss America now...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5935560211723820164?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5935560211723820164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5935560211723820164' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5935560211723820164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5935560211723820164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/05/rules-are-rules.html' title='Rules are Rules'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SgII0y8wxxI/AAAAAAAAAUk/5gETEWONYUk/s72-c/misscolorado.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1100385718095697313</id><published>2009-05-01T09:17:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T09:34:38.368-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rainy Friday Dress Up Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SfsWKr-wRGI/AAAAAAAAAUc/E4Pb6gg3y0c/s1600-h/dressup2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 157px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SfsWKr-wRGI/AAAAAAAAAUc/E4Pb6gg3y0c/s320/dressup2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330878956783551586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Mommy, where's my other go-go boot?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Now there's something you don't hear every day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1100385718095697313?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1100385718095697313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1100385718095697313' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1100385718095697313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1100385718095697313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/05/rainy-friday-dress-up-party.html' title='A Rainy Friday Dress Up Party'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SfsWKr-wRGI/AAAAAAAAAUc/E4Pb6gg3y0c/s72-c/dressup2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-784381786184901422</id><published>2009-04-25T21:31:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T21:42:12.807-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Minds Think Alike</title><content type='html'> We just got home from a 1st birthday celebration. Good friends, good food,  kids running wild,  lots of giggles, presents and birthday cake. As I tucked Bella into bed she said, " Mommy, will you snuggle with  me a while?". So I laid down in bed next to her and we turned on the stars (a little turtle we have that lights up and shines stars onto the ceiling).  Pretty soon her breath slowed and I felt her body start to relax in my arms. She  was gazing at the stars above, her eyelids getting heavy. I asked her what she was  thinking about. In just a whisper she replied, "I'm thinking about love." A few moments later she was sound asleep.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Funny, I was thinking the same thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-784381786184901422?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/784381786184901422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=784381786184901422' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/784381786184901422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/784381786184901422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/04/great-minds-think-alike.html' title='Great Minds Think Alike'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-7771098258249733877</id><published>2009-03-18T08:49:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T11:05:43.962-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Lover of All Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/ScEKCM4ujuI/AAAAAAAAAUM/TWAIP4jIhFE/s1600-h/face.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/ScEKCM4ujuI/AAAAAAAAAUM/TWAIP4jIhFE/s320/face.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314540068209069794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On the walk to school today Bella spotted an 'obstacle' on the sidewalk and called out, "Don't step in the poop Mommy!". Then she said "You should just gently step over it. Because Nature is our friend."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Boy, she can take even the sh*tiest situation and make it sound nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7771098258249733877?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7771098258249733877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7771098258249733877' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7771098258249733877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7771098258249733877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/03/lover-of-all-things.html' title='A Lover of All Things'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/ScEKCM4ujuI/AAAAAAAAAUM/TWAIP4jIhFE/s72-c/face.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2382356572266119829</id><published>2009-03-18T08:47:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T08:49:20.201-06:00</updated><title type='text'>NO WIRE HANGERS!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/ScEJ3k7iMWI/AAAAAAAAAUE/gdjWO0lfxdE/s1600-h/belladearest.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/ScEJ3k7iMWI/AAAAAAAAAUE/gdjWO0lfxdE/s400/belladearest.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314539885684732258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bella got a hold of my 'eyeliner' (red lip liner). Aunt Tracy said she saw a slight resemblance to Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2382356572266119829?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2382356572266119829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2382356572266119829' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2382356572266119829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2382356572266119829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/03/bella-got-hold-of-my-eyeliner-red-lip.html' title='NO WIRE HANGERS!'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/ScEJ3k7iMWI/AAAAAAAAAUE/gdjWO0lfxdE/s72-c/belladearest.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-4530971687854687017</id><published>2009-03-05T18:15:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T18:23:58.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Grass is Always Greener...When You're 4 Years Old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SbB5SMX5SmI/AAAAAAAAAT0/0DZvZ8P3yu8/s1600-h/DSC_0011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SbB5SMX5SmI/AAAAAAAAAT0/0DZvZ8P3yu8/s400/DSC_0011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309877314135870050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; On Wednesday Bella was coming with me to a meeting, and we had to walk through an alley to get to the building we were going to. All of a sudden she had a big smile on her face and said, "Look Mommy! The green grass is growing in the cracks!" I stopped for a moment to look down at the street. Sure enough there were little patches of grass peeking out from between the cracks in the pavement. So I said, "Yes it is, and you know, I wouldn't have noticed that if you hadn't mentioned it."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I learned something from this story...did you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-4530971687854687017?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/4530971687854687017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=4530971687854687017' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4530971687854687017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4530971687854687017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/03/grass-is-always-greenerwhen-youre-4.html' title='The Grass is Always Greener...When You&apos;re 4 Years Old'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SbB5SMX5SmI/AAAAAAAAAT0/0DZvZ8P3yu8/s72-c/DSC_0011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2878223464343862112</id><published>2009-02-17T16:21:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T16:29:28.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Be</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZtIVPHdBNI/AAAAAAAAATs/byeweypWdmw/s1600-h/be.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZtIVPHdBNI/AAAAAAAAATs/byeweypWdmw/s400/be.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303912515831137490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;So if you have read this blog in the past, you know that I occasionally like to ask my daughter what she wants to be when she grows up. Her aspirations change daily (sometimes hourly) so the answer is always alluring. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So today I asked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And today's answer was (with a very disciplinary tone), &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Mommy, I'm just gonna &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt; who I &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't doubt it for a minute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2878223464343862112?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2878223464343862112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2878223464343862112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2878223464343862112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2878223464343862112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/02/just-be.html' title='Just Be'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZtIVPHdBNI/AAAAAAAAATs/byeweypWdmw/s72-c/be.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1125440240416714560</id><published>2009-02-15T20:37:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T20:51:25.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Day Sunshine</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Today was a BEAUTIFUL day in Colorado. Late this afternoon, Bella was playing out in the backyard and I was sitting out with her soaking up the sun. It was as warm as a spring day and someone close by had a fire going, so the sweet smell of smoke lingered in the air. Bella decided we should have a picnic. She went into the house and came outside with lots of goodies...carrots, raisins, graham crackers and chocolate milk. She sat down next to me and said, "It's a good day Mommy, isn't it? It IS a wonderful day." Then she sighed, leaned against me and drank her milk. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OK - this next thing is going to sound like I made it up, by I actually wrote it down word for word...I just have an amazing kid (if I do say so myself).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was nearing bedtime when Bella climbed up onto my lap and said in a very serious tone, "Mommy. I need to ask you something." "What is it?" I replied. She said, "Can I have a little bit of your love?"  "You can have ALL of my love!" I said. Then she gave me a hug and said, "Mommy, I can &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;feel&lt;/span&gt; all of your love." You and me both kid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was indeed, a wonderful day.&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&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/8488303957371371664-1125440240416714560?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1125440240416714560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1125440240416714560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1125440240416714560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1125440240416714560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/02/good-day-sunshine.html' title='Good Day Sunshine'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-7949340076602313005</id><published>2009-02-15T11:37:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T11:54:50.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Twiggy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZhkv4QLaWI/AAAAAAAAATk/IIPVI6ktnQE/s1600-h/twiggy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZhkv4QLaWI/AAAAAAAAATk/IIPVI6ktnQE/s400/twiggy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303099334945630562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was 4 years old, I had very long hair. My parents wanted to cut it short (probably from day after day of tears when trying to comb through it). Unbeknownst to each other, they had each bribed me to get the haircut. My mom bought be a Barbie swimming pool that I desperately wanted and my dad took me to lunch at my favorite restaurant. They didn't find out until after the haircut that they had been scammed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I was going to give Bella's hair a little trim (the last time it was cut at the local kids barber shop, the woman who cut it had no clue what she was doing and we walked out of there a little lopsided!). I started to cut it and Bella said, "Mommy, cut this part that is always in my eyes." So I asked her if she wanted to have really short hair. She heartily replied "YES!" So we cut it short. She now kind of looks like a cross between Twiggy and Bob Dylan. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I will voluntarily take her to lunch and get her a Barbie swimming pool...will keep her busy until her hair grows back! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7949340076602313005?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7949340076602313005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7949340076602313005' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7949340076602313005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7949340076602313005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/02/twiggy.html' title='Twiggy'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZhkv4QLaWI/AAAAAAAAATk/IIPVI6ktnQE/s72-c/twiggy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-5130112225210137598</id><published>2009-02-13T20:21:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T20:26:13.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Gifts Please</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZY5wU_NvXI/AAAAAAAAATM/0bWEh_xK8fY/s1600-h/vday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZY5wU_NvXI/AAAAAAAAATM/0bWEh_xK8fY/s400/vday.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302489113705692530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Tonight as Bella was settling down for the night, I went and sat next to her. She hopped up and threw her arms around my neck, gave me a kiss and said, "Happy Tomorrow Valentine's Day Mommy." &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It really is the thought that counts. Best Valentine I ever got.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5130112225210137598?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5130112225210137598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5130112225210137598' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5130112225210137598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5130112225210137598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/02/no-gifts-please.html' title='No Gifts Please'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SZY5wU_NvXI/AAAAAAAAATM/0bWEh_xK8fY/s72-c/vday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-6443297699546955969</id><published>2009-02-03T23:13:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T23:21:21.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Simple Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SYkyIfFrL1I/AAAAAAAAATE/96TfRE1qmBE/s1600-h/tshirts.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 216px; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SYkyIfFrL1I/AAAAAAAAATE/96TfRE1qmBE/s400/tshirts.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298821557943742290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought Bella this t-shirt today. The photo doesn't do it justice. The pink dress and ballet shoes are sparkly and the tiny dog is doing the same ballet move as the girl. I bought it because when Bella saw it, her face lit up like fireworks on the 4th of July and she gasped. I asked her if she wanted it and she said, "Oh yes Mommy. It's beautiful, just BEAUTIFUL!" &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was such a magical moment. Something so simple.  She was overjoyed. The simple things should make us happy.  I've learned more about life from her in the past 4 years than I have in my 40. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She is beautiful, just beautiful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6443297699546955969?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6443297699546955969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6443297699546955969' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6443297699546955969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6443297699546955969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/02/simple-life.html' title='The Simple Life'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SYkyIfFrL1I/AAAAAAAAATE/96TfRE1qmBE/s72-c/tshirts.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7158357224672665037</id><published>2009-02-02T22:25:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-02T22:32:51.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Skip Skip Skip to My Lou</title><content type='html'>I try to make it to the gym 3-4 times a week. Sometimes work and life get in the way. The other day Bella was anxiously waiting to go (they have a great kids club there), but I ended up knee deep in jobs that I had to finish. She was hounding me "When are we going to the gym Mommy?" I finally answered, "Well, I think we're going to skip the gym today." to which she replied, "Can't we take the car? I don't want to skip there!"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not a bad idea. If we skipped to the gym, workout accomplished. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7158357224672665037?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7158357224672665037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7158357224672665037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7158357224672665037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7158357224672665037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/02/skip-skip-skip-to-my-lou.html' title='Skip Skip Skip to My Lou'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-5623018988753374391</id><published>2009-01-29T10:25:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T10:38:36.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fountain of Youth</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SYHpNei93iI/AAAAAAAAAS0/CSzigVCb58I/s1600-h/smiles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SYHpNei93iI/AAAAAAAAAS0/CSzigVCb58I/s400/smiles.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296771054511709730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Late yesterday afternoon Bella and I were at the supermarket. We were slowly making our way through the aisles ( I forgot my list so was trying to remember everything we needed). There was a bus full of elderly people there from a nearby retirement home. Bella was sitting in the cart, singing, chatting, making funny remarks about everything. About half way through the store, I had a feeling we were being followed. Sure enough, there was a line of little old ladies, tagging along behind us, not looking for groceries, but listening to Bella. They all had big smiles on their faces and seemed to have a new spring in their steps. We stopped and chatted a little. Bella charmed them all. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On our way home I got a little choked up thinking about how much my grandfather would have loved Bella. He died long before she was born. I realized how fast time goes and how precious these years are. I can only hope &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; my grandparents are still here with us, maybe skipping along quietly behind us as we browse through the cookie aisle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5623018988753374391?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5623018988753374391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5623018988753374391' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5623018988753374391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5623018988753374391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/fountain-of-youth.html' title='The Fountain of Youth'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SYHpNei93iI/AAAAAAAAAS0/CSzigVCb58I/s72-c/smiles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-5229790417456645296</id><published>2009-01-26T10:22:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T10:26:09.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My reply as a child was always "No, I'm just dancing."</title><content type='html'>Bella was standing next to my desk playing a game on one of my computers. It is obvious she has to go potty. I asked her, "Bella, do you have to go potty?" to which she replied without taking her eyes away from the screen, "No, I'm just standing real high on my toes."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's a new one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5229790417456645296?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5229790417456645296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5229790417456645296' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5229790417456645296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5229790417456645296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-reply-as-child-was-always-no-im-just.html' title='My reply as a child was always &quot;No, I&apos;m just dancing.&quot;'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2916929900233138666</id><published>2009-01-15T10:10:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T10:19:32.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bella Unabridged</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SW9wFIsOQnI/AAAAAAAAASc/Cued-Qq6d4M/s1600-h/kid.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 223px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SW9wFIsOQnI/AAAAAAAAASc/Cued-Qq6d4M/s400/kid.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291571320718246514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Abuela is coming to visit tomorrow (that's Grandma for all of the non-spanish speakers out there). Bella is very excited. She's been asking all week, "How many more days until Abuela?". This morning she was getting ready for school and I told her that when she got home, she needed to help me clean up the house for Abuela's visit. She casually said, "We should start with your closet. It is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;disastrous&lt;/span&gt; in there!"&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her 4-year old vocabulary never ceases to amaze me! Webster would be proud.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(and she's very observant too - my closet is a disaster!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/8488303957371371664-2916929900233138666?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2916929900233138666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2916929900233138666' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2916929900233138666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2916929900233138666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/bella-unabridged.html' title='Bella Unabridged'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SW9wFIsOQnI/AAAAAAAAASc/Cued-Qq6d4M/s72-c/kid.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1223154011170056787</id><published>2009-01-10T13:45:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:35:30.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmmmm</title><content type='html'>I was just sitting at my desk getting a little work done, when Bella crawled into my office pretending to be a dog. Barking, wagging her tail, sniffing around. Then all of a sudden she hopped up and ran out of the room. I heard the bathroom door shut. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope she's not drinking out of the toilet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1223154011170056787?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1223154011170056787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1223154011170056787' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1223154011170056787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1223154011170056787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/hmmmm.html' title='Hmmmm'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-9165089282163117292</id><published>2009-01-10T10:36:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T10:51:16.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SWjffvuDiKI/AAAAAAAAASU/HXkyzYG7iLk/s1600-h/oldsoul.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SWjffvuDiKI/AAAAAAAAASU/HXkyzYG7iLk/s400/oldsoul.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289723498825222306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When Bella was a baby, an uncanny number of people, strangers, told me that she was an "old soul". I'll never forget one day we were standing in line at the grocery store and a very kind looking old woman was standing in line behind us. She and Bella locked eyes, Bella's face was very  sober. They stared at each other for at least a minute. The woman leaned forward and said softly to me, "She's been here before."&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This week I came down with strep throat and Daddy was out of town, it was a rough few days until the antibiotics kicked in. I felt like I was hit by a truck.  On the worst day, I took Bella to the store and let her pick out a movie and any treat she wanted. We went home and made a "movie theater" in the basement and she watched her movies and ate as many cookies as she wanted (right out of the box), curled up in my arms while I slept. Hey, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. So last night I laid down in bed next to her and said, "Thank you Honey for being such a good girl and taking care of me when I was sick. I really appreciate it." She  gently put her hand on my face and said, "Mommy, sometimes I will help  you, and sometimes I won't. But I always love you."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think her old soul &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;has&lt;/span&gt; been here before. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-9165089282163117292?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/9165089282163117292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=9165089282163117292' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/9165089282163117292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/9165089282163117292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/old-soul.html' title='Old Soul'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SWjffvuDiKI/AAAAAAAAASU/HXkyzYG7iLk/s72-c/oldsoul.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7139260281070639187</id><published>2009-01-03T14:20:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T14:30:28.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inquiring Minds Want to Know</title><content type='html'>In the car this morning, Bella was singing songs and it started to rain a little so she broke into "It's Raining, It's Pouring". After 'the old man is snoring' she said, "How does the rest go again?" so I finished it "He bumped his head and he went to bed and he couldn't get up in the morning." &lt;div&gt;Then she said, "And then what happened?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Huh? I have no idea what happened after that...never really thought about it before. My guess is that the prognosis was not good, considering his age and the fact that he probably went to sleep with a concussion, but I wasn't really prepared to explain all of that to a  4 year old, so instead I asked her what she thought happened next.  Her version went something like this (sung in the same tune as the song). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He went outside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;with his pajamas on&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and he looked pretty silly without his rain hat on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Everyone loves a silly ending.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7139260281070639187?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7139260281070639187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7139260281070639187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7139260281070639187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7139260281070639187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2009/01/inquiring-minds-want-to-know.html' title='Inquiring Minds Want to Know'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-7019263957280138007</id><published>2008-12-31T23:17:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T23:49:20.609-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Blogs for the Price of One</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SVxlN8QB9gI/AAAAAAAAASM/kUWfAwJ88u4/s1600-h/beauty.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 354px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SVxlN8QB9gI/AAAAAAAAASM/kUWfAwJ88u4/s400/beauty.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286211352812189186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;In about 45 minutes it will be 2009. The days of late night celebrating are long gone. My family and I spent a quiet night at home, happy to be with each other and looking forward to the adventures the next year has to offer. The past few weeks have been busy so I have been jotting down notes on scraps of paper here and there of things I have been meaning to write about...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Holiday time. We are not church-goers or religious people, so I have struggled as to what to teach Bella about this time of year. So far, we have celebrated by decorating a tree and exchanging gifts, but we haven't really talked about Christmas, Hanukkah, etc. and what the holidays really mean. So the day after Christmas I asked Bella, "What is Christmas?". She replied "It's a special day to celebrate". "What do we celebrate?" I asked. She replied, "Well, we celebrate snow and presents and dogs and people and EVERYTHING!". " I asked, "What else do we celebrate?". She said, "Hanukkah." Then she sang the Dradle song (and she knew all the words?). Surprised, I asked her what Christmas and Hanukkah had in common and she said, " Celebrating with our families". I guess maybe I should not worry about what we can teach her, and think about what she can teach us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bella got a new piggy bank a few months back. It is divided into 3 sections. Spend, Save and Share. Every week she gets an allowance and we divide the money by percentages into the three banks.  A few days ago we counted up all the money and Bella made her first purchase. I told her she could buy anything she wanted. She walked up and down the toy aisles at Target, carefully looking at all her options. She finally chose a Barbie doll that came with a dog with 3 puppies. She counted out all the money at the checkout line and handed it to the cashier. Mommy was a little teary-eyed as we walked out of the store.  From there we counted out the "Share" money and went to Brent's Place, an organization that provides a home away from  home for kids with cancer and their families. Bella donated $5.07 (mostly in quarters and dimes!) and Mommy and Daddy matched it. They were very grateful and told her her money would be used to buy hot chocolate and cookies for the kids as a special treat after playtime. We told them we'd be back again at the end of next year. Mommy walked out even more teary-eyed from there. No words can describe the joy in seeing your child growing up to be a loving, responsible and comapssionate person. This year has been filled with moments like these and for that I am thankful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And finally, yesterday we were walking into the supermarket and Bella reached for my hand and said, "Mommy, let's skip and sing, "Shiny! Shiny! Shiny smiles!". So we did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy New Year to you. I can't wait to see what 2009 brings.&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;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7019263957280138007?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7019263957280138007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7019263957280138007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7019263957280138007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7019263957280138007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/12/three-blogs-for-price-of-one.html' title='Three Blogs for the Price of One'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SVxlN8QB9gI/AAAAAAAAASM/kUWfAwJ88u4/s72-c/beauty.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7056239183666402734</id><published>2008-12-19T14:06:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T14:09:23.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Friday Thought</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SUwNd1L8ooI/AAAAAAAAASE/sRxXF_HpvEA/s1600-h/floating.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SUwNd1L8ooI/AAAAAAAAASE/sRxXF_HpvEA/s400/floating.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281611269143306882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Draw a crazy picture,&lt;div&gt;Write a nutty poem,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sing a mumble-gumble song,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whistle through your comb.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do a loony-goony dance,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'Cross the kitchen floor,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Put something silly in the world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That ain't been there before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Shel Silverstein&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7056239183666402734?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7056239183666402734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7056239183666402734' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7056239183666402734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7056239183666402734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/12/friday-thought.html' title='A Friday Thought'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SUwNd1L8ooI/AAAAAAAAASE/sRxXF_HpvEA/s72-c/floating.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-200458978883983136</id><published>2008-12-18T16:19:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T16:31:01.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Solve the Housing Crisis</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SUrdHMcPziI/AAAAAAAAAR0/uiQ9u_w1IWs/s1600-h/bface.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 327px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SUrdHMcPziI/AAAAAAAAAR0/uiQ9u_w1IWs/s400/bface.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281276628713852450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It has been COLD in Colorado this week. Too cold for my taste. But what can you do. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today driving in the car, Bella warmed things up with this statement.&lt;div&gt;"Mommy. When you see smoke coming out of people's chimneys, it means there's a chocolate factory inside." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ahh... just the thought of having a chocolate factory in my house makes me feel warm and cozy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now if only we had a chimney....&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/8488303957371371664-200458978883983136?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/200458978883983136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=200458978883983136' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/200458978883983136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/200458978883983136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-to-solve-housing-crisis.html' title='How to Solve the Housing Crisis'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SUrdHMcPziI/AAAAAAAAAR0/uiQ9u_w1IWs/s72-c/bface.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-8284442357792806512</id><published>2008-11-26T17:49:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T17:56:38.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Oscar Goes To....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SS3wA8trEeI/AAAAAAAAARs/1AyrMKElslk/s1600-h/attitude.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SS3wA8trEeI/AAAAAAAAARs/1AyrMKElslk/s400/attitude.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273134637809078754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I asked Bella to help me put away some laundry and toys. She kept doing whatever she was doing so I asked her again. Ignored me like I wasn't even in the room. So I went over to her and asked her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;again&lt;/span&gt;. She looked at me and grabbed her little school backpack and said as she was walking out of the room, "NO! I am leaving town...FOREVER...&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;forever&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;forever&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;forever"&lt;/span&gt; (she was actually fading out her own voice as she walked away). The kids' got quite a flair for the dramatic! All I could do was laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-8284442357792806512?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/8284442357792806512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=8284442357792806512' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8284442357792806512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8284442357792806512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/11/and-oscar-goes-to.html' title='And the Oscar Goes To....'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SS3wA8trEeI/AAAAAAAAARs/1AyrMKElslk/s72-c/attitude.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7972744009174519517</id><published>2008-11-17T08:26:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T08:38:41.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bella Be Good</title><content type='html'>Last week we were shopping at Whole Foods. They have a thing called the "Kids Club" where kids can choose from one of about a dozen snacks for free while you are shopping... fruit leather, a  piece of fruit, string cheese or Bella's favorite, a cookie. Luckily the cookies are at the far side of the store from the entrance, so our usual routine is (standard mom bribery) "If you are good while we shop, you can have a cookie". Well, let's just say she didn't really hold up to her end of the bargain. So when we neared the checkout line she said, "What about my cookie?" to which I replied, "Well, you weren't being very good. I don't think you deserve a cookie today." She thought about it for a minute and said, "I was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; good, can I have a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; cookie?" Another laugh out loud moment... for me and the woman behind us in line (whom I let go ahead of us as we went off to get a cookie).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can't be good today, at least try to be a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;little&lt;/span&gt; good. Might get you a cookie after all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7972744009174519517?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7972744009174519517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7972744009174519517' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7972744009174519517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7972744009174519517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/11/bella-be-good.html' title='Bella Be Good'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-5505232661346362444</id><published>2008-11-01T21:03:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T21:11:34.198-06:00</updated><title type='text'>La la la la la la</title><content type='html'>Don't you love it how kids will just break into song at any given moment. Today at Target (imagine that, we were at Target) Bella saw something about the new Madagascar movie and at the top of her lungs started singing "I like to move it move it. I like to move it move it. Ya like to...move it!" and did a little dance in the shopping cart. I really wanted to join her but thought I'd better not. What a shame that I didn't. A few minutes of laughter and a lifelong memory would have been worth a moment of embarrassment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reminds me of the old song from Sesame Street...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sing&lt;br /&gt;Sing a song&lt;br /&gt;Sing out loud&lt;br /&gt;Sing out strong&lt;br /&gt;Sing of good things, not bad&lt;br /&gt;Sing of happy, not sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sing&lt;br /&gt;Sing a song&lt;br /&gt;Make it simple&lt;br /&gt;To last your whole life long&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry that it's not good enough&lt;br /&gt;For anyone else to hear&lt;br /&gt;Sing&lt;br /&gt;Sing a song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La la la la la la la la la la la&lt;br /&gt;La la la la la la la&lt;br /&gt;La la la la la la la la la la la&lt;br /&gt;La la la la la la la&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5505232661346362444?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5505232661346362444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5505232661346362444' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5505232661346362444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5505232661346362444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/11/la-la-la-la-la-la.html' title='La la la la la la'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-3831537357917456831</id><published>2008-10-28T09:00:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T09:05:49.736-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"If you can dream it, you can do it." - Walt Disney</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I asked Bella what kind of job she would like to do when she is an adult (if you have read this blog before you know her answers change daily, so it is good to ask often in order to keep up).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bella: "I want to build things."&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: "What kind of things?"&lt;br /&gt;Bella: "Like buildings and towers and stuff."&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: "Oh, so do you want to be an architect?"&lt;br /&gt;Bella: "No, I think a Buildatect."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3831537357917456831?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3831537357917456831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3831537357917456831' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3831537357917456831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3831537357917456831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/10/if-you-can-dream-it-you-can-do-it-walt.html' title='&quot;If you can dream it, you can do it.&quot; - Walt Disney'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-3199833322961200123</id><published>2008-10-27T19:53:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T19:55:17.769-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good Shepherd</title><content type='html'>I was making dinner tonight when Bella asked, "What are you making Mommy?"&lt;br /&gt;"Shepherd's Pie", I replied. "OH! ... I LOVE shepherds, but I don't like pie" she declared.&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm....I really would have guessed it the other way around. Then again, I can't say that I have met a shepherd that I didn't like. Have you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3199833322961200123?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3199833322961200123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3199833322961200123' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3199833322961200123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3199833322961200123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/10/good-shepherd.html' title='The Good Shepherd'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-806977292011735436</id><published>2008-10-20T09:25:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T15:53:11.524-06:00</updated><title type='text'>October Sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SPysG8b_vTI/AAAAAAAAANc/4BzzhXALulo/s1600-h/nana.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SPysG8b_vTI/AAAAAAAAANc/4BzzhXALulo/s400/nana.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259267700164640050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that time of year... my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;favorite&lt;/span&gt; time of year. Autumn! There's nothing better than a sunny fall day. The air is cool, the leaves are bursting with color and the sky is so blue you just want to lay  in the grass and spend the whole afternoon daydreaming. So what the heck, I gave it a try. The ground felt cool on my back, the crisp fall air filled my lungs. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it...for about 30 seconds. Then the dog licked my face and the 4-year old jumped onto my stomach. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So instead we played tag, we raked leaves and made big piles to jump in, played fetch with the dog. And all of a sudden my daydreams paled in comparison to my reality. Ahh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-806977292011735436?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/806977292011735436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=806977292011735436' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/806977292011735436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/806977292011735436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/10/october-sky.html' title='October Sky'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SPysG8b_vTI/AAAAAAAAANc/4BzzhXALulo/s72-c/nana.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-8003377008701342345</id><published>2008-09-28T09:11:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T14:28:06.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Push Your Luck</title><content type='html'>Yesterday we went to Target to pick up a handful of items. I was speeding through the store to avoid having to stop in the toy or candy department. We were at the very back of the store and had almost everything we needed when Bella said, "I have to go potty". Never fails. I asked her if she could hold it for just a few minutes to which she happily said yes. So I ran to pick up the last item and went straight to the checkout line. As I was paying for everything, 3 people behind me in line and people in both lanes next to us, Bella says, very loudly, "I sucked it in Mommy." Looking back on the situation, I should &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; have asked her the next question...a confused, "What?" to which she yells out, "My poop! I sucked it back in!" with big smile on her face as if she is waiting for congratulations. I glanced around at all the people around me who were now stifling their chuckles ...what else was there to do but laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not even sure how to end this story...I think I'll just leave it at that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-8003377008701342345?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/8003377008701342345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=8003377008701342345' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8003377008701342345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8003377008701342345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/09/dont-push-your-luck.html' title='Don&apos;t Push Your Luck'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-2845672488166371159</id><published>2008-09-24T21:38:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T21:49:28.482-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Secret Schmecret</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SNsJt1FZloI/AAAAAAAAAM8/IHPxXdujkw8/s1600-h/DSC_0156.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SNsJt1FZloI/AAAAAAAAAM8/IHPxXdujkw8/s400/DSC_0156.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249800473578935938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was cleaning the house today when I stubbed my toe. I held back the curse words because Bella was in the room, but let out a holler and a grunt. Bella asked, "What's wrong Mommy?" to which I replied, "I stubbed my stupid toe." She looked at my toes and said, "I like your toes Mommy, they're not stupid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How AMAZING is the mind of a child! All afternoon I thought about how optimistic children are. It is inspiring. So as of today there is a new rule at our house. No more complaining. If you're unhappy with something don't complain about it, DO SOMETHING about it. If you don't know the answer right away, write down the problem and come back to it later. NO more focusing on the negative. Focusing on the positive makes everything brighter. It's as easy as that. Instead of "I hate cleaning the house", how about "I love it when the house is clean!" Then enjoy the clean house. Life is too short to dwell on the negatives. And while we're stewing in the past, we may be missing the here and now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to live the good life, then just live it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2845672488166371159?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2845672488166371159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2845672488166371159' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2845672488166371159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2845672488166371159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/09/secret-schmecret.html' title='Secret Schmecret'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SNsJt1FZloI/AAAAAAAAAM8/IHPxXdujkw8/s72-c/DSC_0156.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-5961013150753141649</id><published>2008-09-16T22:05:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T22:34:00.168-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday, Monday...</title><content type='html'>Last night I was helping Bella brush her teeth. She tried to turn on her electric toothbrush and it wouldn't start. I took it and tapped it hard on the sink and it started. She looked at me with a big smile so I said,"Mommy's just like Fonzerelli!" Blank stare. "What's Fonzerelli?"&lt;br /&gt;It was that moment that I realized I  have become the "Nerd Mom". From now on, I will start to embarrass my kid, just by being myself. Just like my parents embarrassed me and your parents embarrassed you. Next year she will be off to Kindergarten and it will only get worse from there. The way I dress, the &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;way I talk, the car I drive, the music I listen to (although my daughter is a Beatles fan - so let's hope that holds over forever). I will be dorky 'Laverne' to her and her friends when in my mind I think I am Pinky Tuscadero&lt;/span&gt;. Oh well, that's just the way it goes I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I think there will still be plenty of Happy Days ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5961013150753141649?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5961013150753141649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5961013150753141649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5961013150753141649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5961013150753141649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/09/happy-days.html' title='Sunday, Monday...'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-7284588100270280738</id><published>2008-09-12T09:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T09:39:18.043-06:00</updated><title type='text'>September 12, 2008</title><content type='html'>...and shoes! I am also thankful for shoes! How could I forget shoes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7284588100270280738?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7284588100270280738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7284588100270280738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7284588100270280738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7284588100270280738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/09/september-12-2008.html' title='September 12, 2008'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-5468493412257597048</id><published>2008-09-11T22:00:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T22:24:31.254-06:00</updated><title type='text'>September 11, 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SMnueGr19ZI/AAAAAAAAAM0/N890clzFYc8/s1600-h/we.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SMnueGr19ZI/AAAAAAAAAM0/N890clzFYc8/s400/we.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244985442007643538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am grateful for...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My beautiful daughter who is so full of life and quick with a smile to brighten my every day.&lt;br /&gt;My husband who is able to enjoy his passion for hunting, even on this rainy Colorado day.&lt;br /&gt;My sweet, gentle, caring dog who protects me and loves me unconditionally.&lt;br /&gt;My mother and my step father, my father, my sister and my soon-to-be-brother-in-law who love me and whom I love dearly.&lt;br /&gt;My in-laws who make me feel like I have always been a part of their family.&lt;br /&gt;My friends who constantly remind me that life is meant to be fun and enjoyed.&lt;br /&gt;My memories of all the people I love that are no longer here on earth.&lt;br /&gt;My comfortable house, in the gorgeous state of Colorado, in our free and beautiful country, in an awe inspiring world.&lt;br /&gt;My voice, my mind, my heart and my soul and the freedom to express them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this day, September 11, 2008, I am thankful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5468493412257597048?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5468493412257597048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5468493412257597048' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5468493412257597048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5468493412257597048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/09/september-11-2008.html' title='September 11, 2008'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SMnueGr19ZI/AAAAAAAAAM0/N890clzFYc8/s72-c/we.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-184452508960882605</id><published>2008-09-02T11:58:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T12:17:45.896-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Delicious!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SL1-5tcXwoI/AAAAAAAAAMs/XIxIUgrQ1go/s1600-h/recipe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SL1-5tcXwoI/AAAAAAAAAMs/XIxIUgrQ1go/s400/recipe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241485071245361794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think baking is in her future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-184452508960882605?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/184452508960882605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=184452508960882605' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/184452508960882605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/184452508960882605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/09/nestle-tollhouse-bakeoff.html' title='Delicious!'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SL1-5tcXwoI/AAAAAAAAAMs/XIxIUgrQ1go/s72-c/recipe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2967684428584719801</id><published>2008-08-31T19:27:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T19:56:20.387-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ICE CREAM MAN!!!</title><content type='html'>Well, we were out for a walk tonight and the &lt;span class="ital-inline"&gt;inevitable&lt;/span&gt; happened....&lt;br /&gt;For 4 years we had never let Bella onto the fact that there was such a thing as an ice cream truck. Now, before you judge and think "Why would we deprive our child of such a thing as the ice cream truck?!"  On a hot summer day you could hear those tinny sounding chimes of the ice cream truck song (usually 'The Entertainer') a mile away. Just enough time to track down your mom or dad for money, running through the house screaming "ICE CREAM!", then running out of the house along with every other kid in the neighborhood and waiting for the truck to turn the corner onto your block. Then it was decision time. The hardest part. Bomb pop? Push up? Drumstick? Or my favorite, the Creamsicle. So why has our daughter not known about this classic summertime phenomenon until now? Well, a few reasons really. First of all, it is not like the kid is lacking in the treat department. We're seriously considering changing her middle name to 'Chocolate' at this point, just because I don't think she can live without it. Secondly, in this day and age of the credit and debit card, you run the risk as a parent of not having any cash on hand when the truck  comes by, and then you have to deal with temper tantrums and end up driving to the supermarket to pick up Popsicles if you want the crying and screaming to stop. And lastly, we knew she would eventually figure it out and there would be plenty of years of "ICE CREAM!" to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that brings us back to our walk tonight....we're walking down a long block when all of a sudden, the ice cream truck turns onto the street and is headed right towards us. I look around frantically, there is no where to go. Bella asks, "What's that sound?". Now, she has heard the music before from inside the house, but never asked what it was. I guess she just assumed it was someone driving by with bad taste in music. The truck gets closer and closer, the music is getting louder and louder. When it finally pulls up next to us, she realizes what it is. I have to say the look on her face was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;priceless&lt;/span&gt;! It was worth depriving her of the ice cream truck until now. Her eyes were wide open and a huge smile came across her face. And then she looked at me and said "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That's &lt;/span&gt;where the noise was coming from! Ice cream!" No turning back now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I didn't have any money on me because we only headed out to walk the dog around the block, so I had to run to the store when we got home to get Popsicles. C'est la vie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2967684428584719801?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2967684428584719801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2967684428584719801' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2967684428584719801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2967684428584719801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/08/ice-cream-man.html' title='ICE CREAM MAN!!!'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1931543757716627193</id><published>2008-08-28T10:37:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T16:43:24.041-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mrs Cab Driver</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SLbZRtlXAXI/AAAAAAAAAMk/vBYdFe3S4M8/s1600-h/girls.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SLbZRtlXAXI/AAAAAAAAAMk/vBYdFe3S4M8/s400/girls.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239614114809446770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day Bella went running by me, chasing her cousins that were here visiting for the week. I grabbed her on the way by for a hug. She sat down on my lap and let out a big sigh and said, "Mommy, when I get big I want to be a Taxi driver." Then she walked away. I called out to her "Why?" and she turned around and said, "Because I like Taxis."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simple as that. Funny, how day to day, week to week, she declares what she wants to do with her life. How something inspires her so  much that she thinks "THAT'S what I want to be." What it tells me is that she is learning, thinking and appreciating the things around her. She doesn't let anything slip by unnoticed. She literally does stop and smell the roses (on the walk to school).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are living in a time of Political History! Lots of stuff happening in our country and around the world. This week the DNC is here in Denver, and next weekend the RNC will be in my other hometown of Minneapolis. I think we could all learn a lesson from the four-year-olds in our life. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Listen, look&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;around you&lt;/span&gt;, take the time to appreciate this wonderful country we live in and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pay attention&lt;/span&gt; to what's happening. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Be open&lt;/span&gt; to new ideas and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be willing&lt;/span&gt; to change your mind about things. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Think&lt;/span&gt; about what you can do to make the world a better place. For ourselves, our children, and even our taxi drivers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Follow up 8/28/08: Just now I asked Bella if she still wanted to be a Taxi Driver and she said no. So I asked what she wanted to be now and she said "An Ice Cream Girl". No need to ask why this time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1931543757716627193?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1931543757716627193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1931543757716627193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1931543757716627193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1931543757716627193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/08/mrs-cab-driver.html' title='Mrs Cab Driver'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SLbZRtlXAXI/AAAAAAAAAMk/vBYdFe3S4M8/s72-c/girls.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1398793573932199511</id><published>2008-08-19T20:26:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T22:26:15.819-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Grosser than Gross?</title><content type='html'>In the bathtub tonight Bella was pretending to make soup, scooping water into a plastic cup, stirring it up. I asked her what kind of soup she was making and she replied, "Pedicure soup."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ewww.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1398793573932199511?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1398793573932199511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1398793573932199511' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1398793573932199511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1398793573932199511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/08/whats-grosser-than-gross.html' title='What&apos;s Grosser than Gross?'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-3185147435993532633</id><published>2008-08-14T10:52:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T12:22:53.341-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Nice Place to Visit But I Wouldn't Want to Live There</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SKR3rMlJhdI/AAAAAAAAAMc/srME_9yn9u8/s1600-h/fairy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SKR3rMlJhdI/AAAAAAAAAMc/srME_9yn9u8/s400/fairy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234440250906478034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, Bella and I were driving to the airport to pick up Aunt Tracy, when we drove by some new apartment/condo buildings. I mentioned how fancy they looked and then the conversation went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bella: "I want to live in an apartment."&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: "Why?"&lt;br /&gt;B: "I like apartments."&lt;br /&gt;M: "But we have a nice big house with a yard. Where would the dog play?"&lt;br /&gt;B: "We would make space for her to play."&lt;br /&gt;M: "Well, when you are old enough to live by yourself, you can live in an apartment."&lt;br /&gt;B: "YAY! And then you can be in my tummy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not quite sure how we got from apartment dwelling to pregnancy. Maybe she thought since we would give her a nice place to live and keep her safe and warm until she was an adult, then it would be her turn. By the time she is old enough to move out, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will&lt;/span&gt; be close to retirement age. And although the thought of floating around in the water with nothing to do, being fed and taken care of sounds wonderful, I was thinking more like the beaches of Mexico or Fiji, than back into the womb.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3185147435993532633?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3185147435993532633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3185147435993532633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3185147435993532633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3185147435993532633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/08/nice-place-to-visit-but-i-wouldnt-want.html' title='A Nice Place to Visit But I Wouldn&apos;t Want to Live There'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SKR3rMlJhdI/AAAAAAAAAMc/srME_9yn9u8/s72-c/fairy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-357758850169989088</id><published>2008-08-03T17:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T17:43:59.838-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder</title><content type='html'>This weekend Bella went camping with her Daddy, his friend Matt and his son, and Matt's 2 nephews. A weekend with the boys! They returned this afternoon, dirty and tired and full of stories about all their adventures. They shot bows &amp;amp; arrows and BB guns, went for a canoe ride and swam in the lake. Bella and Brodie got stung by bees :( Of course they roasted marshmallows and ate s'mores. A fun time was had by all (especially Mommy who was home alone for 2 days!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave Bella  big hug when she got home and said "I missed you!" to which she replied. "I missed you too Mommy. I tried to think of you all the time." Her answer struck me as funny for a moment. For a little person who does not really understand the meaning of time yet, it must be a whole different feeling when she is away from home, not knowing exactly when she will see Mommy again. Sometimes she asks when she will see Grandmommy next, or Abuela, Grandpa, etc., and we tell her, but whether we say two weeks or a year, she just smiles and goes back to what she was doing. She  lives life in the moment. She is happy with the here and now. No worries about tomorrow, no regrets about the past. I am inspired. I will take more time to think of those that I love when they are not with me. I will enjoy the day for what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carpe diem!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-357758850169989088?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/357758850169989088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=357758850169989088' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/357758850169989088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/357758850169989088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/08/absence-makes-heart-grow-fonder.html' title='Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-6274335861691830889</id><published>2008-07-30T10:11:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T10:43:19.891-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Card Bella</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SJCaIanigYI/AAAAAAAAAMU/ex1c4YnIX4c/s1600-h/con.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SJCaIanigYI/AAAAAAAAAMU/ex1c4YnIX4c/s400/con.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228848636751937922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My four year old can pretty much con her way into anything these days. It is hard to resist the batting eyelashes, sweet-as-pie smile and the hilarious way she words her devious requests. For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been 90+ degrees for about a week now in Denver. It's HOT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, I am SO hot! If I have a drink, like milk or juice, I will still be hot. BUT, if I have a nice frozen Popsicle, then I will be very cool." (she is sheepishly grinning and twirling her dress from side to side).    Irresistible! I think we have eaten a dozen Popsicles each in the last 4 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, I LOVE you SO much!" (climbs up on my lap and gives me a kiss) "We should have chocolate chip cookies."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like&lt;/span&gt; your new shoes. They are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; beautiful!" (you know you can get anything out of Mommy if you talk about shoes!) "You should wear them to Target and we can get a new Princess doll."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's a con-woman. And with her charm and wit, I am sure there'll be many more chocolate treats, new toys and Popsicles in her future. But as long as she makes me smile and laugh, I am sure I will give in just that easily. Better than a temper tantrum any day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6274335861691830889?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6274335861691830889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6274335861691830889' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6274335861691830889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6274335861691830889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/three-card-bella.html' title='Three Card Bella'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SJCaIanigYI/AAAAAAAAAMU/ex1c4YnIX4c/s72-c/con.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7862037858713608652</id><published>2008-07-23T11:03:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T11:18:50.444-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Next Phil Rizzuto?</title><content type='html'>The other day Bella &amp;amp; I were at the post office when she noticed a new baseball stamp display set out on a table. She took one of the cards and when we got in the car, she was looking it over. I asked her what it said to which she replied in her best baseball announcer voice, "It says...Derek Jeter's baseball game. Boooo Red Sox! The Yankees beat the Twins in Minnesota. Go Yankees!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Daddy's really got her trained well!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7862037858713608652?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7862037858713608652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7862037858713608652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7862037858713608652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7862037858713608652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/next-bob-sheppard.html' title='The Next Phil Rizzuto?'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1610996699174151331</id><published>2008-07-13T09:49:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T10:12:38.288-06:00</updated><title type='text'>???</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SHokWu_TMAI/AAAAAAAAALw/VidolEXlrfU/s1600-h/legs.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SHokWu_TMAI/AAAAAAAAALw/VidolEXlrfU/s400/legs.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222526690878763010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure what to title this one....the road rash, the bruise and the band-aid mark, mixed with the feathery high heels...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ma'OhNo!' Blahnik", "Cicatrix in the City", "The Scarred and the Beautiful"... any suggestions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1610996699174151331?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1610996699174151331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1610996699174151331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1610996699174151331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1610996699174151331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/blog-post.html' title='???'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SHokWu_TMAI/AAAAAAAAALw/VidolEXlrfU/s72-c/legs.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-5487808355744417170</id><published>2008-07-12T09:40:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T10:12:02.661-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Symphonie Fantastique</title><content type='html'>Those of you with small children have probably all witnessed this, but I think it's funny every time so thought I would share it with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the movie "Sleeping With the Enemy"? Julia Roberts fakes her own death to escape a controlling psycho husband, who meticulously lines up everything from the bathroom towels to the soup cans in the cupboards...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll leave Bella in my room playing, only to come back a few minutes later to find that all my shoes have been lined up and sorted by heel height, my t-shirts organized by color. Sometimes it freaks me out a little and other times I am tempted to take her down to the Home Depot to see if she can get a job in the closet organization department, maybe make a little money for her college fund.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just strikes me as so funny when kids do this. I know that it is all part of learning,  recognition of patterns, counting, colors, etc. But it always catches me off guard and I have to laugh. Then  I get that music stuck in my head all day from the movie....you know the one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gIGXXJgwl_c"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gIGXXJgwl_c&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5487808355744417170?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5487808355744417170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5487808355744417170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5487808355744417170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5487808355744417170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/symphonie-fantastique.html' title='Symphonie Fantastique'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-2358218708786303512</id><published>2008-07-08T17:12:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T17:35:08.376-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Miss Manners</title><content type='html'>Recently I had a little scare with my four year old daughter. Here's the story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of a mother's worst predicaments is what to do with your child while you take a shower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, when she is a baby, you head to Target (after 3 days of not showering for fear of leaving the baby for one second) to buy a clear shower curtain. Then you can set her in her car seat on the floor of the bathroom and still see that she is breathing while you bathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years down the line, she is content in her room playing where you know everything is safe and or bolted to the wall. She has not yet figured out how to climb over the baby gate that blocks her door, so off to the bathroom you go to shower without worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four years old...by this time, most of the house is safe so she is usually fine watching TV or playing with her toys in her room and you rarely worry anymore. Until the day you have your head covered with shampoo and you hear your daughter SCREAM something from outside the bathroom. You jump out of the shower, suds everywhere, run into her room dripping wet, only to find her playing happily with her dolls. "Why did you scream?" you ask. "You sneezed, Mommy. I was saying bless you loud enough for you to hear me in the shower."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, tell me Miss Manners, do I punish her for screaming and scaring the @*#&amp;amp; out of me? Or do I thank her for being polite, and then rinse off?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....signed Bubbly, but Blessed&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2358218708786303512?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2358218708786303512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2358218708786303512' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2358218708786303512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2358218708786303512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/dear-miss-manners.html' title='Dear Miss Manners'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-7239924907090603276</id><published>2008-07-05T21:56:00.011-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T10:14:24.172-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Dizzy and Tired</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SHFmvRY7_vI/AAAAAAAAALo/fBM0q_E2pho/s1600-h/face.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SHFmvRY7_vI/AAAAAAAAALo/fBM0q_E2pho/s400/face.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220066405406998258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am proud to say that my child has made it to 4 years old without ever drinking a soda (that I know of anyway). I myself have just given it up...no more caffeine,  saccharine, or aspartame for me. I have however found some alternatives...because every once in a while you need a little fizz in your life. So today I was drinking a Blue Sky Organic Lite Root Beer (no artificial color or flavors, no preservatives and, of course, no caffeine - tastes MUCH better than it sounds!) and I asked Bella if she wanted a sip. "Of course!" she said with a smile. She took a tiny little sip and exclaimed, "Oooh, it makes my tongue dizzy!"....had it been a Coke, she may have fainted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, this afternoon we took our dog for a little walk around the neighborhood. About 20 minutes into it, as we were just rounding the corner for home Bella said with a big sigh, "Mommy, I am running out of walking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know just what you mean kid. By the end of most days, not only is my tongue dizzy, but so are my ears, my eyes and my head. I have run out of walking, talking, listening, tugging, lugging, holding, wiping, cleaning and patience. But I will &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; be too dizzy to kiss you good night and I will never &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; run out of hugging, kissing, caring or loving....I promise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7239924907090603276?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7239924907090603276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7239924907090603276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7239924907090603276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7239924907090603276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/random-thoughts.html' title='Dizzy and Tired'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SHFmvRY7_vI/AAAAAAAAALo/fBM0q_E2pho/s72-c/face.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2133673626655143171</id><published>2008-07-03T21:56:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T08:26:44.371-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My  Girls</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SG2iPzHXfKI/AAAAAAAAALQ/7A80KD6PDuo/s1600-h/fancyn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SG2iPzHXfKI/AAAAAAAAALQ/7A80KD6PDuo/s400/fancyn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219005935495117986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SG2flKrTVzI/AAAAAAAAALI/4WE0tcZGGWg/s1600-h/mygirls.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SG2flKrTVzI/AAAAAAAAALI/4WE0tcZGGWg/s400/mygirls.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219003004062226226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These just make me happy....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2133673626655143171?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2133673626655143171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2133673626655143171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2133673626655143171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2133673626655143171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-two-girls.html' title='My  Girls'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SG2iPzHXfKI/AAAAAAAAALQ/7A80KD6PDuo/s72-c/fancyn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-4634199527876279558</id><published>2008-07-03T19:52:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T09:27:08.351-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Free to Be You and Me</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SG2Cg0FDZyI/AAAAAAAAALA/kCgILpQJeMY/s1600-h/smile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SG2Cg0FDZyI/AAAAAAAAALA/kCgILpQJeMY/s400/smile.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218971043439535906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few funny stories for you this holiday weekend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend we took the camper out to a beautiful lake about two hours outside of town for the weekend. The majestic purple mountains surrounded us, the water glistened in the Colorado sun, the air all around us was cool and sweet smelling. When Daddy asked Bella what her favorite part about camping was she replied, "Um...the marshmallows." She obviously appreciates the finer things in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, we were at Target and walked past the sunglasses stands. Bella stopped and put on a very large pair of glasses (think Paris Hilton) and smiled charmingly at me. I said, "Let me try them on." She gave them to me and I put them on, gave her my most glamorous look and asked, "How do I look?" To which she replied, "Modest." "Modest? Did you say modest?" I said.  A woman on the other side of the glasses rack peeks around the corner to look at Bella. She looked at me and said, "She &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; say modest. Quite a vocabulary your little girl has." Then we both just looked at each other and laughed. I don't think she has any idea what the word means, and I am not sure why she knew it, but it sure was funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the day we had lunch with our friend Keely and her baby, Donovan and her mom, Dorann. Bella was completely enthralled with Donovan. She would softly stroke his cheeks, which would bring a smile across his entire cute little face. After a while he started drooling a little and Bella said with a gasp, "Keely, he's leaking water out of his mouth!" Again, we all just laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on this holiday weekend, remember to eat plenty of marshmallows, celebrate modestly and try not to let too much water leak out of your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;In the words of another Purple Majesty...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be glad that U r free&lt;br /&gt;Free 2 change your mind&lt;br /&gt;Free 2 go most anywhere, anytime&lt;br /&gt;Be glad that U r free&lt;br /&gt;There's many a man who's not&lt;br /&gt;Be glad 4 what U had baby, what you've got&lt;br /&gt;Be glad 4 what you've got&lt;br /&gt;~ Prince&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 4th of July everyone!&lt;br /&gt;Peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-4634199527876279558?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/4634199527876279558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=4634199527876279558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4634199527876279558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4634199527876279558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-fourth-of-july.html' title='Free to Be You and Me'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SG2Cg0FDZyI/AAAAAAAAALA/kCgILpQJeMY/s72-c/smile.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7737336780028905539</id><published>2008-06-24T19:45:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T19:47:53.589-06:00</updated><title type='text'>When it Absolutely Positively Has To Be There Overnight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SGGjvQtfLoI/AAAAAAAAAK4/Gevmsb7do9Y/s1600-h/upsher.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SGGjvQtfLoI/AAAAAAAAAK4/Gevmsb7do9Y/s400/upsher.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215629875806678658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Gas prices so high and airline tickets even higher...maybe FedEx is the way to get to Grandma's this summer....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7737336780028905539?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7737336780028905539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7737336780028905539' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7737336780028905539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7737336780028905539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/06/when-it-absolutely-positively-has-to-be.html' title='When it Absolutely Positively Has To Be There Overnight'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SGGjvQtfLoI/AAAAAAAAAK4/Gevmsb7do9Y/s72-c/upsher.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-7485781827103679802</id><published>2008-06-19T22:27:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T22:55:44.642-06:00</updated><title type='text'>BE the 4 Year Old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SFs2u8uX2mI/AAAAAAAAAKw/lgz1wohpdlk/s1600-h/mom%26b.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SFs2u8uX2mI/AAAAAAAAAKw/lgz1wohpdlk/s400/mom%26b.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213821173813992034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am starting to think that in order to stay sane while living with a 4 year old, you have to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;become&lt;/span&gt; a 4 year old. Lately I have found myself doing the strangest things....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago I admittedly took my tired and hungry child on one too many errands, saving the most important grocery store until last (bad move on my part, but I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;said&lt;/span&gt; "admittedly"). So when the tantrums started, instead of the infamous counting to 3 or else.... "one, TWO, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THREE&lt;/span&gt;..." I decided to just go with the flow. I threw a silly tantrum right there in aisle 13 next to the toilet paper. I fake cried while hopping on one foot, sticking my tongue out and threw in some jazz hands just to seal the deal. Bella's tantrum stopped right then and there as she looked at me wide eyed as if to say "What the hell are you doing?" Just being 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it is a school day and Miss Sleepyhead does not want to get out of bed, I find myself putting Cinderella panties on my head and a pair of 5T pants on one of my legs. Always makes her laugh and then she shows me the right way to put them on. Voila! Kid is dressed and ready for school without a fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week we raced to the dinner table, raced out of the toy section at Target and to the checkout line, raced to see who could get in the car and get their seat belts on the fastest. Of course Mommy is very slow and NEVER wins. But I was not late for my dentist appointment today when we raced to the car when it was time to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past month I have skipped, made silly faces, not known how to brush my teeth, comb my hair or eat my vegetables ("Does thee broccoli go in my nose?" "NO MOMMY! In your mouth, like this!"). I have pretended to be the Queen, a Princess, a Cowgirl and a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what? It's FUN! It's fun to be 4! Try it this weekend....just be a little silly when life gets you down....and be sure to throw in some jazz hands...it really helps!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7485781827103679802?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7485781827103679802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7485781827103679802' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7485781827103679802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7485781827103679802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/06/be-4-year-old.html' title='BE the 4 Year Old'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SFs2u8uX2mI/AAAAAAAAAKw/lgz1wohpdlk/s72-c/mom%26b.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-6589379455786315347</id><published>2008-06-12T21:14:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T21:29:02.655-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiny Dancer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SFHpbwbCAAI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/tlx8ozG9MGc/s1600-h/dancer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SFHpbwbCAAI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/tlx8ozG9MGc/s400/dancer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211202906908393474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't seem to get this song out of my mind today....I wonder why...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man&lt;br /&gt;Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6589379455786315347?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6589379455786315347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6589379455786315347' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6589379455786315347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6589379455786315347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/06/tiny-dancer.html' title='Tiny Dancer'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SFHpbwbCAAI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/tlx8ozG9MGc/s72-c/dancer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-3880294884764241518</id><published>2008-06-09T20:26:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T22:27:38.864-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All You Do To Me is Talk Talk</title><content type='html'>It seems like only yesterday my baby said her first word. "Daydee" (no not Daddy, but Zaidy, our dog). It was such a joy to hear her say a new word almost every day. We were amazed at how smart she was and how fast she was learning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cut to 3 years later.....Is it possibly that she can &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;literally talk ALL day&lt;/span&gt;!...12 hours straight (that's 720 minutes or  43,200 seconds)! I am not even sure if she took a breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At about hour 4, I turned the TV on, figured I could get at least half an hour of silence, but she just talked to Dora the Explorer instead of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hour 5 we went to Target where she talked to the sales people, customers passing by and continued to ask me 100 more questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note: I was very shy when I was a kid, ask my mom. Instead of talking to people, I would just stick my tongue out at them. At this point, a bratty, but silent kid would be a nice break. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hour 6 we played in the backyard. She talked about the garden, the grass, the trees, golf, soccer, the dog. Asked about 100 more questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hour 7 just more talking (I can't tell you exactly what about because by this time I had started to tune out) and 100 more questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours 8 and 9...Barbies, Polly Pocket, mommy can I have a...mommy can we go to... mommy what is a....blah blah blah....about 100 more questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hour 10 we were headed off to swimming lessons! Half an hour of peace for Mommy. I dropped her by the side of the pool and headed off to a near-by chair with a good book. I looked over at her every time it was her turn (she was talking to the boy next to her the whole time). When it was  time for the kids to float on their bellies and put their faces in the water and blow bubbles, I looked over and Bella's face was in the water and yes, there were bubbles, but I wondered if she was blowing bubbles or talking about blowing bubbles. My guess is the latter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hour 11 she told me all about swim class in the car, and then I heard the repeat as she told it to Daddy we got home. About 100 more questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's now hour 12 and she is in her room laying in bed. I can hear her talking to her stuffed animals through the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a few minutes I will go into her room and she will be sound asleep, exhausted from an entire day of questions and talking. I will give her a kiss and whisper I love you. And we'll do it all over again tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 102);"&gt;How Many, How Much&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;How many slams in an old screen door?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;    Depends how loud you shut it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;How many slices in a bread?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;    Depends how thin you cut it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;How much good inside a day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;    Depends how good you live 'em.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;How much love inside a friend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;    Depends how much you give 'em.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                 ~ Shel Silverstein&lt;/span&gt;               &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;`&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3880294884764241518?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3880294884764241518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3880294884764241518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3880294884764241518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3880294884764241518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/06/all-you-do-to-me-is-talk-talk.html' title='All You Do To Me is Talk Talk'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-5678285372366673286</id><published>2008-06-05T19:17:00.011-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T18:33:37.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Renaissance Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SEmuXxkVGfI/AAAAAAAAAJo/neqQIZcsOHA/s1600-h/princesscowgirl.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SEmuXxkVGfI/AAAAAAAAAJo/neqQIZcsOHA/s400/princesscowgirl.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208886167496628722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today Bella said, "Mommy, when I get grown up I want to be a Mountain Climber and a Space Girl and a Hockey Girl." The kids' got big dreams. And I hope they all come true. What was your dream job when you were a kid? Are you doing it now? If not, why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 5 years ago, I got laid off from my job (that was definitely &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; my dream job). A week later I found out I was pregnant. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. The thought of dropping my child off at daycare on my way to a meaningless job that I would probably hate, was enough to inspire me to take my business (that was then a hobby) to the next level. Sure, for a while we had to give up HBO, dinners out, shopping trips to Target where you come home with $100 of stuff in one bag....but it eventually paid off. Today I have a business that is thriving and it is something I love doing (yes, when I was a child, I wanted to be an artist. I colored and cut paper, created art projects all the time). I now am able to spend a beautiful Colorado afternoon at a park overlooking the Rocky Mountains, watching my daughter laugh and play. I'll have to work until the wee hours of the morning to get my jobs finished, but knowing tomorrow I can do whatever I want makes it all worth it. I couldn't be luckier or more blessed. We've added back the HBO, go out to dinner occasionally and I think Target is our second home now. But when it comes down to it, if you are happy every day doing something you love and spending time with the people you care about most, you don't really need any of those other things. And anyway, who needs HBO when there are mountains to climb, stars to explore and hockey games to play?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5678285372366673286?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5678285372366673286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5678285372366673286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5678285372366673286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5678285372366673286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/06/renaissance-girl.html' title='Renaissance Girl'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SEmuXxkVGfI/AAAAAAAAAJo/neqQIZcsOHA/s72-c/princesscowgirl.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1343081118047618717</id><published>2008-05-24T16:37:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T16:39:05.706-06:00</updated><title type='text'>America's Next Top Model, Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SDiY_dtlo1I/AAAAAAAAAJg/Z15jZSMK6Rw/s1600-h/model.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SDiY_dtlo1I/AAAAAAAAAJg/Z15jZSMK6Rw/s400/model.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204077585501627218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls' got attitude....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1343081118047618717?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1343081118047618717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1343081118047618717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1343081118047618717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1343081118047618717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/05/americas-next-top-model-part-ii.html' title='America&apos;s Next Top Model, Part II'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SDiY_dtlo1I/AAAAAAAAAJg/Z15jZSMK6Rw/s72-c/model.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1781265808382327285</id><published>2008-05-22T12:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T12:37:38.820-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Le Ballon Rouge</title><content type='html'>As Bella's red balloon floated up into the sky last night, she looked at me, lip quivering, and said, "Maybe we could get a really big ladder and climb up into the sky."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1781265808382327285?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1781265808382327285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1781265808382327285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1781265808382327285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1781265808382327285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/05/le-ballon-rouge.html' title='Le Ballon Rouge'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-6677736251268089015</id><published>2008-05-19T09:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T09:28:08.332-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's the Mommy?</title><content type='html'>Last night when I was putting Bella to  bed, I tucked her in and was about to lean over to give her a kiss, when instead she sat up and kissed me on the forehead and said, "Goodnight Dear." Then laid down and went to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6677736251268089015?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6677736251268089015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6677736251268089015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6677736251268089015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6677736251268089015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/05/sleep-tight.html' title='Who&apos;s the Mommy?'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-8803291292099253940</id><published>2008-05-04T10:58:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T11:10:47.532-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The $64,000 Questions</title><content type='html'>I have two questions that I ask Bella almost every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first is "Do you know that I love you?" To which she always replies, "Yes." (and hopefully she will always answer the same way)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second question is "What are you thinking about." Now this one is a great question to ask a preschooler. Because you never know what the answer is going to be..."Turtles",  "Cinderella", "Candy" (this is a common answer - wouldn't you love to have the time to just daydream about candy). But it is always a great way to start a conversation and usually good for a laugh or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So next time your kid looks quiet and contemplative, ask him/her what he/she is thinking about. Whether your kid is 2 or 16, you might just learn something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-8803291292099253940?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/8803291292099253940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=8803291292099253940' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8803291292099253940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8803291292099253940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/05/64000-questions.html' title='The $64,000 Questions'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-6935660503778669977</id><published>2008-05-01T23:30:00.010-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T16:09:17.819-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Enchanted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SBqpPiFa5gI/AAAAAAAAAJY/Js4SJmG_1hg/s1600-h/Photo+Library+-+613.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SBqpPiFa5gI/AAAAAAAAAJY/Js4SJmG_1hg/s320/Photo+Library+-+613.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195651204437960194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandmother is dying. We don't know when she will go, but it will be soon. All day today I thought of her and some of the funny things she used to do and they made me smile. And then I would cry. It is never easy to say good-bye to someone, no matter how old they are or what the circumstances are. Last night, my husband had tried to explain the situation to Bella. He told her that mommy's grandma was very old and sick, and she wasn't going to always be here, and that made me sad because I would miss her. So tonight, Bella and I snuggled up on the couch before bed to watch a movie and she leaned in close to me and asked, "Why is your grandma old?" I tried to explain to her, with a lump in my throat and a few tears. I didn't know if she would understand, but when you hear her response, you will know that she did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She gently leaned into my face and gave me the softest kiss and said, "True Love's Kiss Mommy." (sob).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all the Princess movies, True Love's Kiss is always the solution to breaking the spell or solving the problem....and you know what? It really works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12|22|1919 - 5|2|2008 Good-bye Grandma. I'll miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6935660503778669977?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6935660503778669977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6935660503778669977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6935660503778669977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6935660503778669977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/05/enchanted.html' title='Enchanted'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SBqpPiFa5gI/AAAAAAAAAJY/Js4SJmG_1hg/s72-c/Photo+Library+-+613.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1886656911005575730</id><published>2008-04-29T09:57:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T10:04:36.004-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Birds and the Bees...Not Quite Yet</title><content type='html'>Over the weekend, good friends of ours had a baby boy. We have been talking to Bella about it for a long time so we were very excited to head off to the hospital to see the new baby yesterday. As we were driving, Bella asked me why we were going to the hospital. I told her that that is where Keely and Steve had their baby. She thought for a moment (to which I was thinking in my head..'what am I going to tell her if she asks how it all works?') and then said, "I had a dream about the hospital the other night" (not what I was expecting). I said,  "Really? What did you dream about the hospital?" "I don't know" she said. "Do you know what a hospital is?" I asked. "No" she replied.&lt;br /&gt;So I explained what a hospital was instead...whew!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1886656911005575730?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1886656911005575730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1886656911005575730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1886656911005575730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1886656911005575730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/04/birds-and-beesnot-quite-yet.html' title='The Birds and the Bees...Not Quite Yet'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-991886823870031642</id><published>2008-04-27T19:06:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T19:13:23.161-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend at Bella's</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SBUkeyFa5fI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Dg_LLXKeCx8/s1600-h/kid.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SBUkeyFa5fI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Dg_LLXKeCx8/s320/kid.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194097856500917746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday, Bella came up to me in my office and said very seriously, "Mommy. I need to talk to you about something." "What?" I said.  "I need to tell you about love.", she replied. So I said, "What would you like to tell me about love, my dear?" "That I love you Mommy" she said, and went back to what she was doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday we were sitting in a line of cars at McDonald's, behind a big stinky truck. Bella said, "Yuk Mommy, that truck has bad breath. I can smell it in my mouth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart Kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-991886823870031642?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/991886823870031642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=991886823870031642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/991886823870031642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/991886823870031642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/04/weekend-at-bellas.html' title='Weekend at Bella&apos;s'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SBUkeyFa5fI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Dg_LLXKeCx8/s72-c/kid.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1003618262710754076</id><published>2008-04-24T14:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T14:38:39.205-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mem'ries, Light the corners of my mind</title><content type='html'>How come on any given day, I can remember...&lt;br /&gt;The lyrics to "Do You Know the Muffin Man" and "Fifty Nifty United States"&lt;br /&gt;How to do Jacob's Ladder and Cat's Cradle on a Chinese jump rope&lt;br /&gt;How to make homemade Play Dough&lt;br /&gt;The theme song from The Flintstones&lt;br /&gt;Silly Knock knock jokes&lt;br /&gt;and a recipe for homemade brownies...&lt;br /&gt;but I can't remember where I put my keys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kinda nice that our minds are set up to remember the fun stuff, the good times, the  dabba doo times. Isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1003618262710754076?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1003618262710754076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1003618262710754076' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1003618262710754076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1003618262710754076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/04/memries-light-corners-of-my-mind.html' title='Mem&apos;ries, Light the corners of my mind'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-8165194643397335299</id><published>2008-04-17T10:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T10:54:49.506-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Name is Tasha....</title><content type='html'>...and I am a chocoholic!&lt;br /&gt;And it must be hereditary because this morning I was driving my daughter to school and she was naming off the colors in the rainbow. She said, "Purple, red, blue, chocolate..."&lt;br /&gt;I think we will have to go through the 12 Step program together:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Admit that we are powerless over chocolate.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Come to believe that a Power greater than chocolate could restore us to sanity.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of something other than chocolate.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make a searching and fearless inventory of all things chocolate.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Admit to ourselves, and to another human beings the exact nature of our love of chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be entirely ready to remove all the chocolate from our house.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Humbly ask the chocolate to forgive us.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make a list of all persons we had harmed, (by not sharing our chocolate) and became willing to make amends to them all.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make direct amends to such people wherever possible.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Continue to take personal inventory and when we see chocolate in the store, don't buy it.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Seek through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with vegetables and healthy snacks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we try to carry this message to chocoholics everywhere, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Either that or we could go out for ice cream....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-8165194643397335299?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/8165194643397335299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=8165194643397335299' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8165194643397335299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8165194643397335299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-name-is-tasha.html' title='My Name is Tasha....'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-6885149946115973057</id><published>2008-04-11T20:37:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T20:52:32.091-06:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIF</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SAAjhyRmIoI/AAAAAAAAAIw/s7g5Qzd6HoY/s1600-h/princessb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SAAjhyRmIoI/AAAAAAAAAIw/s7g5Qzd6HoY/s320/princessb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188185834069041794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we made it through another week. Today Bella and I went to the gym and then ran around town doing errands. I had a gift certificate to a posh place that I had never used and it was just about to expire, so we had an extravagant "Ladies Lunch" before we came home. We ordered whatever we wanted to eat. Bella had macaroni and cheese and lemonade. Mommy had corn &amp;amp; crab chowder and Filet Mignon tacos. We colored with crayons and talked about Princesses, The Flintstones and our upcoming trip to Yankee Stadium. I couldn't have asked for a better lunch date. Then we headed home to do laundry, work a little and mess up the house (should have been &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;clean&lt;/span&gt; up the house, but we messed it up instead).&lt;br /&gt;Tonight as we were winding down and Bella was getting ready to go to bed, she curled up next to me on the couch and let out a big sigh and said, "It's good to be home."&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't agree more.&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy the weekend. We will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6885149946115973057?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6885149946115973057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6885149946115973057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6885149946115973057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6885149946115973057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/04/tgif.html' title='TGIF'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/SAAjhyRmIoI/AAAAAAAAAIw/s7g5Qzd6HoY/s72-c/princessb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-3141351491225989297</id><published>2008-04-06T20:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-06T20:36:10.443-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wishes Do Come True</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, Bella was sitting on my lap so we were looking at each other face to face. I had a little piece of glitter on my cheek (when you have a 3 year old daughter, there always seems to be glitter around).The conversation went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;Bella: Mommy, you look sparkly!&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: I do?&lt;br /&gt;Bella: Yes. You have a sparkle right there on your cheek.&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: I wonder where that came from.&lt;br /&gt;Bella: Maybe from a shooting star or something.&lt;br /&gt;Mommy: Maybe. (smile)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3141351491225989297?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3141351491225989297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3141351491225989297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3141351491225989297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3141351491225989297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/04/wishes-do-come-true.html' title='Wishes Do Come True'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-3975740762261416025</id><published>2008-04-01T21:10:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T21:27:26.769-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The New Life Diet</title><content type='html'>The other day we were at the grocery store and I bribed, er, I mean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;told&lt;/span&gt; my child that if she was good  while I shopped, we could pick out a treat at the end (hey, it had been a long day!). She sat patiently in the shopping cart, singing and talking the whole time. So when I was finished we picked out a treat. A big raised donut with chocolate frosting and pink and white sprinkles! I told her she could have it as soon as we got in the car. Again she waited patiently. When I finally gave it to her, I watched her eat it in the rear view mirror on the way home. She was carefully eating only the top off the donut, which made me laugh, so I asked her, "Why are you only eating the top?". She replied matter of factly, "Because that's where the sprinkles are." I laughed again and then got to thinking....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chocolate and the sprinkles &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; really the best part. The rest just makes you feel sick and regretful and full. When you relate that to life, it seems like we, as adults, have kind of forgotten that 'go for the good-stuff first' behavior. We spend so much time dealing with stress and worry...the part that makes you feel sick and full and regretful, and the good parts seem to  go unnoticed a lot of the time. I think we all need to dive in to the chocolate and sprinkles first every once in a while...learn to appreciate and acknowledge the good things in life. Stop to taste the sweetness and roll the sprinkles around on your tongue a little. You'd might be surprised just how delicious life really is!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3975740762261416025?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3975740762261416025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3975740762261416025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3975740762261416025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3975740762261416025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/04/new-life-diet.html' title='The New Life Diet'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-6389646528021280777</id><published>2008-03-31T22:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T22:41:20.693-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Frightening Frigidaire</title><content type='html'>Today we were eating lunch and Bella ate just a few bites of hers and then said she wasn't hungry anymore. I wrapped a little tin foil over the plate and put it in the fridge, knowing that in half an hour, she'd want it again. Sure enough she asked for it and I took the plate out and set it on the table in front of her. She looked at the tin foil and said, "Why did you cover it?" I replied, "just to protect the food" to which she said, "Mommeee, there's nothing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dangerous&lt;/span&gt; in the refrigerator!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She obviously does not yet know the evils of cream cheese, butter and cookie dough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6389646528021280777?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6389646528021280777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6389646528021280777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6389646528021280777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6389646528021280777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/03/frightening-frigidaire.html' title='Frightening Frigidaire'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1344402329584613801</id><published>2008-03-23T22:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T10:46:55.352-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Denver in the Springtime</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R-cut4ULKlI/AAAAAAAAAIg/XvVIQC-5vRU/s1600-h/spring.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R-cut4ULKlI/AAAAAAAAAIg/XvVIQC-5vRU/s400/spring.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181161262059039314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Spring Everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1344402329584613801?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1344402329584613801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1344402329584613801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1344402329584613801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1344402329584613801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-love-denver-in-springtime_23.html' title='I Love Denver in the Springtime'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R-cut4ULKlI/AAAAAAAAAIg/XvVIQC-5vRU/s72-c/spring.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-3955494846926477093</id><published>2008-03-20T08:37:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T11:05:33.284-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Charmed Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R-J4noULKgI/AAAAAAAAAH0/eH2tbp5aJGg/s1600-h/charming.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R-J4noULKgI/AAAAAAAAAH0/eH2tbp5aJGg/s320/charming.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179835143661758978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it about little girls and princesses? Before Bella had even seen a book, TV show or movie about a Princess, she wanted to be one. Every thing we do these days revolves around Princesses. Most of the time, I am Cinderella and she is Anastasia (Cinderella's evil step sister). I tried reversing the rolls the other day. After Daddy's success with the Sleeping Beauty game, I thought maybe if I convinced her that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;she&lt;/span&gt; was Cinderella, I might get her to mop the floors and clean the bathroom...but she wasn't falling for it. So, I continue to get stuck with all the chores while &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anastasia&lt;/span&gt; barks out orders and rules the house.....what's wrong with this picture?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and she doesn't call Daddy "Daddy" anymore. She calls him "Charmings"...which makes me giggle every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, back to my chores. But I think I'll head to DSW today...see if I can't find a new pair of glass slippers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3955494846926477093?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3955494846926477093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3955494846926477093' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3955494846926477093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3955494846926477093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/03/charmed-life.html' title='A Charmed Life'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R-J4noULKgI/AAAAAAAAAH0/eH2tbp5aJGg/s72-c/charming.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-6605565329172902024</id><published>2008-03-15T22:45:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T23:03:27.676-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday Night Dead</title><content type='html'>This week I....&lt;br /&gt;Lost one hour of sleep for daylight savings time.&lt;br /&gt;Prepared 17 meals.&lt;br /&gt;Took Bella to school on Tuesday and Thursday, dance class on Wednesday, school pictures on Friday.&lt;br /&gt;Made 3 trips to the paper store, 5 trips to the grocery store, 2 trips to the post office and 1 trip to the bank.&lt;br /&gt;Worked out for 7 hours (lost 3  pounds!).&lt;br /&gt;Did 7 loads of laundry.&lt;br /&gt;Cleaned the house twice.&lt;br /&gt;Printed 1,106 sets of wedding invitations.&lt;br /&gt;Read 18 books before bedtime.&lt;br /&gt;Washed the car.&lt;br /&gt;Walked the dog.&lt;br /&gt;Laid in bed next to the dog, and promised her I would walk her more next week.&lt;br /&gt;Paid the car loan, the Visa bill and the water bill.&lt;br /&gt;Had one new client meeting.&lt;br /&gt;Answered over 300 emails.&lt;br /&gt;Bought a pair of new shoes.&lt;br /&gt;Went to one afternoon play-date.&lt;br /&gt;Played 3 games of tag in the backyard and attending 3 tea parties.&lt;br /&gt;Went to a hockey game and a surprise party.&lt;br /&gt;Bought a new camper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is 11:00 Saturday night and I'm still going. And if my daughter wakes up in the middle of the night and needs something, I will be the first one out of bed to be by her side. Whoever said being a mother is the hardest job in the world, was right. But it is also the best job I have ever had. Knowing that my beautiful girl is upstairs sleeping in her own room, in our cozy house, surrounded by her princess books and fancy dresses and toys. Knowing that she knows she is loved by her mommy and daddy and family and friends, knowing that I am happy with my business and lucky enough to be home with my child everyday and she learns and grows....makes it all worth while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although a massage and pedicure would be a nice thing to add to the list tomorrow....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6605565329172902024?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6605565329172902024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6605565329172902024' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6605565329172902024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6605565329172902024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/03/saturday-night-dead.html' title='Saturday Night Dead'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-4992158797009823992</id><published>2008-03-11T23:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T23:17:58.166-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Rollercoaster of Love</title><content type='html'>There are ups....like when my child out of the blue says, "I really love you Mommy" or when I sing "Here comes the sun" and she follows with "do-un-do-do" or when we have tea parties in the back yard on a 70 degree sunny March day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there are downs....like when I am at the gym and a woman from the kids club comes to find me midway through my workout to tell me my daughter has had an accident (not the injured kind...the poop kind) or when I have just changed the sheets on my bed and put the brand new white ones on, only to find my daughter in my room minutes later shaking a glass of cranberry juice ALL OVER the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are on a roller coaster, you assume the down part is the fun part. But the down part wouldn't be nearly as fun without the anticipation and excitement of climbing the hill. I think it's the most fun when you just enjoy the ride. Poop, cranberry juice and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do-un-do-do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-4992158797009823992?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/4992158797009823992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=4992158797009823992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4992158797009823992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/4992158797009823992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/03/rollercoaster-of-love.html' title='Rollercoaster of Love'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-8873233016084694129</id><published>2008-03-10T19:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T19:46:22.316-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Laugh and the World Laughs With You</title><content type='html'>I was sitting in my office working and was getting frustrated and tired and grumpy. In the next room, Bella was watching Blues Clues on TV and every few minutes she let out a giggle, then a laugh, a real belly laugh...the kind of laugh that when you hear it, makes you stop working, stop being frustrated and tired and grumpy, so you stop working and walk into the other room to give your kid a big hug and kiss...you know...&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; kind of laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-8873233016084694129?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/8873233016084694129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=8873233016084694129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8873233016084694129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8873233016084694129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/03/laugh-and-world-laughs-with-you.html' title='Laugh and the World Laughs With You'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-7591641040966689248</id><published>2008-03-07T19:52:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T19:55:44.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cuckoo for Cocoa</title><content type='html'>In the car tonight my daughter asked me, "When we get home, can I be WILD and have ice cream?" I think the only answer to a question like that is, "Sure, why not." And I think I'll join her. Sounds like a fun Friday night to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7591641040966689248?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7591641040966689248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7591641040966689248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7591641040966689248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7591641040966689248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/03/cuckoo-for-cocoa.html' title='Cuckoo for Cocoa'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-7919488581151386731</id><published>2008-02-29T07:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T07:59:41.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bella Bunker</title><content type='html'>So yesterday I am cleaning up the spare bedroom because Abuela is visiting this weekend. Bella leaves the room and I can hear her doing something but am not quite sure what, so I call out, "Bella, what are you doing?" to which she yells back, "I'm on the can". What? Has she secretly been watching reruns of Archie Bunker? On the can!? Who taught her that? I go towards the bathroom and she's not there. Instead I find her in the kitchen, sitting on top on the garbage can. OH, THAT can. Had to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Happy Friday everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-7919488581151386731?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/7919488581151386731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=7919488581151386731' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7919488581151386731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/7919488581151386731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/02/bella-bunker.html' title='Bella Bunker'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1510628976583989139</id><published>2008-02-16T17:46:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T21:32:20.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chef's Special</title><content type='html'>My husband and I are going out to eat tonight with some friends so I was making an early dinner for Bella before the babysitter got here. I asked her if she wanted some macaroni and cheese and she said. "No I want something better." So I said, "Like what?" She replied, "Something COVERED with MnM's!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may request the same thing at the restaurant tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Sounds delicious!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1510628976583989139?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1510628976583989139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1510628976583989139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1510628976583989139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1510628976583989139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/02/chefs-special.html' title='Chef&apos;s Special'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1670183641389686891</id><published>2008-02-15T15:04:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-15T15:09:33.677-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Mommy, when I get married I am going to wear my Minnie Mouse dress."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I hope this doesn't mean the wedding will be at Disneyland.)&lt;br /&gt;I'll remind her of this on her wedding day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1670183641389686891?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1670183641389686891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1670183641389686891' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1670183641389686891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1670183641389686891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/02/mommy-when-i-get-married-i-am-going-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-3068972555265622052</id><published>2008-02-14T17:04:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T17:06:36.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Little Democrat</title><content type='html'>I asked Bella today, "Who do you want to be the new President?" and she replied "Maracas Bama".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds like fun to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3068972555265622052?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3068972555265622052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3068972555265622052' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3068972555265622052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3068972555265622052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-little-democrat.html' title='My Little Democrat'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-3876142567616240949</id><published>2008-02-13T19:01:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T19:45:56.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepy Mommy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R7Oh_auGfWI/AAAAAAAAAHA/3ddV63s-4vM/s1600-h/funnygirl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R7Oh_auGfWI/AAAAAAAAAHA/3ddV63s-4vM/s400/funnygirl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166651308400606562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a parent of a 3-year-old is exhausting. Being a parent in general is exhausting. I am sure Bella has said a lot of hilarious things since my last posting. I am just too tired to remember them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-d5b216d02661412c" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd5b216d02661412c%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331286732%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D32070969434ABC710E15F706C2002128B0C98B5E.796D280540628538AFA82F5E3BC0885D3FB0D15B%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd5b216d02661412c%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DkO9OIoV4adGcza3R8hz2SMIftHQ&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v5.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd5b216d02661412c%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331286732%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D32070969434ABC710E15F706C2002128B0C98B5E.796D280540628538AFA82F5E3BC0885D3FB0D15B%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd5b216d02661412c%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DkO9OIoV4adGcza3R8hz2SMIftHQ&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-3876142567616240949?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=d5b216d02661412c&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/3876142567616240949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=3876142567616240949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3876142567616240949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/3876142567616240949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/02/sleepy-mommy.html' title='Sleepy Mommy'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R7Oh_auGfWI/AAAAAAAAAHA/3ddV63s-4vM/s72-c/funnygirl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-6941202580897857094</id><published>2008-02-06T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T08:37:26.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleeping Bella and Prince Daddy</title><content type='html'>Daddy and Bella have a new game...Sleeping Beauty. Bella pretends she is Sleeping Beauty and lays down on the floor, couch, bed, wherever and pretends she is under a spell. She can't talk, move or open her eyes until Daddy (aka The Prince) gives her a kiss. She'll lay there forever totally still until she gets the kiss. Why didn't I think of that game. A totally silent (with the exception of an occasional giggle) and still 3 year old for as long as you want! Sometimes Daddy gets a bad rap, but this time...he's a Genius!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-6941202580897857094?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/6941202580897857094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=6941202580897857094' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6941202580897857094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/6941202580897857094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/02/sleeping-bella-and-prince-daddy.html' title='Sleeping Bella and Prince Daddy'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-5763683595963615077</id><published>2008-01-27T18:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T21:29:25.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Maid</title><content type='html'>I was mopping the floor this afternoon when Bella looked at me with a big smile and said, "Thank you Mommy." I said, "For what?" and she replied, "For making the floors so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shiny&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might mop more often if I always received such an enthusiastic thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5763683595963615077?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5763683595963615077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5763683595963615077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5763683595963615077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5763683595963615077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/merry-maid.html' title='Merry Maid'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1963552454202690271</id><published>2008-01-25T14:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T18:44:53.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rockette sur la Tête</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5pXl2cUWdI/AAAAAAAAAGw/fUgD53E82tM/s1600-h/rockettehead.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5pXl2cUWdI/AAAAAAAAAGw/fUgD53E82tM/s200/rockettehead.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159532630887389650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5pXhmcUWcI/AAAAAAAAAGo/H1C4A1wmd8k/s1600-h/ow.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5pXhmcUWcI/AAAAAAAAAGo/H1C4A1wmd8k/s200/ow.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159532557872945602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Most kids get &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;gum&lt;/span&gt; stuck in their hair....but not my kid.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1963552454202690271?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1963552454202690271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1963552454202690271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1963552454202690271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1963552454202690271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/rockette-sur-la-tte.html' title='Rockette sur la Tête'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5pXl2cUWdI/AAAAAAAAAGw/fUgD53E82tM/s72-c/rockettehead.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2601282648731982044</id><published>2008-01-24T11:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T11:13:09.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clever Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5jVKmcUWXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/9dzI1PIER9o/s1600-h/backwards.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5jVKmcUWXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/9dzI1PIER9o/s320/backwards.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159107751247632754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look Mommy! My feet are on backwards."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2601282648731982044?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2601282648731982044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2601282648731982044' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2601282648731982044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2601282648731982044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/clever-girl.html' title='Clever Girl'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5jVKmcUWXI/AAAAAAAAAGA/9dzI1PIER9o/s72-c/backwards.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2780361411531482725</id><published>2008-01-20T14:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T14:28:14.505-07:00</updated><title type='text'>America's Next Top Models</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5O8in9jRlI/AAAAAAAAAF4/hJ-ebDxHOIA/s1600-h/modelb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5O8in9jRlI/AAAAAAAAAF4/hJ-ebDxHOIA/s400/modelb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157673301298071122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was putting my make up on this morning, Bella by my side as usual digging through my make up bag. She said she wanted to put on make up too. I said to her what every mother says to her daughter, "You don't need make up.  You are beautiful just the way you are." To which she replied, "You are too. We're both FABULOUS!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing makes  you feel more beautiful than sharing a conversation like this with your fabulous 3 year old daughter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2780361411531482725?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2780361411531482725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2780361411531482725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2780361411531482725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2780361411531482725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/americas-next-top-models.html' title='America&apos;s Next Top Models'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R5O8in9jRlI/AAAAAAAAAF4/hJ-ebDxHOIA/s72-c/modelb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-2783351247353374109</id><published>2008-01-15T13:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T13:36:46.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ritzy Wrangler</title><content type='html'>Bella announced on the way home from school today, "Mommy, I want to be a Cowgirl." "Really? Why do you want to be a Cowgirl?" I replied. "Because I have a hat." I asked, "Why else would you like to be a Cowgirl?" and she said, "Because they wear a scarf."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's true what they say....It's all about accessorizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2 class="r"&gt;&lt;a href="http://garmin.blogs.com/my_weblog/2006/09/chets_corner_it.html" class="l" onmousedown="return clk(this.href,'','','res','1','')"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2 class="r"&gt;&lt;a href="http://garmin.blogs.com/my_weblog/2006/09/chets_corner_it.html" class="l" onmousedown="return clk(this.href,'','','res','1','')"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-2783351247353374109?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/2783351247353374109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=2783351247353374109' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2783351247353374109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/2783351247353374109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/ritzy-wrangler.html' title='Ritzy Wrangler'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-5670593936067506623</id><published>2008-01-14T15:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T15:20:45.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dr Feelgood, DDS</title><content type='html'>Bella had a dentist appointment today. This was only the second time she had been, the first being 6 months ago and she wasn't too thrilled about it that time. But today, she seemed more than happy to be there. When they called her name, she immediately opened up her mouth wide and kept it opened wide all the way back into the office. She gladly showed the dentist how she brushed her teeth, she laid back in the chair and let them examine her mouth, smiled and said "Cheese" to show how they all lined up straight. When we were all finished, she took off right out of the office and straight to the "Treasure Chest" to pick out a prize. So &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; the reason she was being so cooperative. The Treasure Chest! I didn't really even remember that part, but she obviously did. Maybe I should suggest that to my dentist. A little Treasure Chest by the door for his patients that were well behaved. Stock it with adult treats....maybe some expensive chocolates or little mini bottles of wine. It sure would make my visit to the dentist more pleasurable if  I knew I was getting a reward at the end. I think I'll bring it up on my next visit.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5670593936067506623?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5670593936067506623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5670593936067506623' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5670593936067506623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5670593936067506623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/dr-feelgood.html' title='Dr Feelgood, DDS'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1637815052350960569</id><published>2008-01-07T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-08T09:18:44.688-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Genial Greens</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R4LeO39jRiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/Bi4EZ8B8Ld4/s1600-h/smile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R4LeO39jRiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/Bi4EZ8B8Ld4/s320/smile.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5152925270786917922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kid loves broccoli. If you ask her what her favorite thing to eat is, she says "broccoli and carrots'. Every mothers' dream. So tonight I made her chicken, noodles, carrots and broccoli for dinner. As she ate her dinner happily, she stopped to study the broccoli and remarked, "It looks like little trees. And they're all hugging."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think she's destined for greatness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1637815052350960569?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1637815052350960569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1637815052350960569' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1637815052350960569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1637815052350960569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/genial-greens.html' title='Genial Greens'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R4LeO39jRiI/AAAAAAAAAFg/Bi4EZ8B8Ld4/s72-c/smile.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-5199138186375996719</id><published>2008-01-03T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T22:05:04.253-07:00</updated><title type='text'>True Love</title><content type='html'>Tonight I asked Bella to pick out a book to read before going to bed. She picked out one of her favorites "Olivia" and I picked out the new book she got from Grandmommy for Christmas, "On the Night You Were Born"... a beautiful book that is about how special my daughter is to me (and her Grandmommy, I'm sure). As I got closer to the end, my eyes started to get teary, a lump formed in my throat and I could feel my heart swelling. After I read the last line, I just looked at Bella and without saying a word, gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. She looked me straight in the eye and said, "I love you too Mommy" and gave me a hug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words cannot explain how I felt. My beautiful daughter FELT what I was feeling. She KNEW at that moment that she was loved. I can't think of anything that I have done in my whole life that was more satisfying than that one moment. WOW! I will hold on to this feeling for the rest of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-5199138186375996719?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/5199138186375996719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=5199138186375996719' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5199138186375996719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/5199138186375996719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/true-love.html' title='True Love'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</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-8488303957371371664.post-1900619467087425814</id><published>2008-01-02T09:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T09:57:38.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bella Hilton</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3vB239jRhI/AAAAAAAAAFY/uOwinvLX_c4/s1600-h/bellahilton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3vB239jRhI/AAAAAAAAAFY/uOwinvLX_c4/s320/bellahilton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150923747307505170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning we were getting ready to head off to school and I put some shiny 'lipstick' on Miss Bella (really lip balm to help heal her terribly chapped winter lips). We were just heading out the door when Daddy came over to give his little girl a kiss goodbye. She turned her head and then gave him the Heisman hand and said, "No Daddy! My lipstick!"&lt;br /&gt;Look out Paris! There's a new girl in town.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1900619467087425814?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1900619467087425814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1900619467087425814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1900619467087425814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1900619467087425814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2008/01/bella-hilton.html' title='Bella Hilton'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3vB239jRhI/AAAAAAAAAFY/uOwinvLX_c4/s72-c/bellahilton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-1320803281896848514</id><published>2007-12-29T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T20:59:22.252-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Hard Days Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3cVy39jRgI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/HuCU16f4Cw4/s1600-h/sleepy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3cVy39jRgI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/HuCU16f4Cw4/s320/sleepy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149608662681208322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hard day at the office? Sweet dreams Busy Bee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-1320803281896848514?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/1320803281896848514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=1320803281896848514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1320803281896848514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/1320803281896848514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2007/12/hard-days-night.html' title='A Hard Days Night'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3cVy39jRgI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/HuCU16f4Cw4/s72-c/sleepy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8488303957371371664.post-8480264687086955503</id><published>2007-12-27T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T09:47:48.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pessimist or Smarty Pants?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3PXCX9jRfI/AAAAAAAAAFI/CDI4qwiTCes/s1600-h/candycane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3PXCX9jRfI/AAAAAAAAAFI/CDI4qwiTCes/s320/candycane.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148695234806498802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, we survived the holidays. We had a houseful of people here on Christmas Eve, lots of food and wine, gifts for the kids, even a  little Christmas Carol Karaoke. At one point in the evening, our friend Keely gathered the kids around and told them that she could go online and track where Santa is on the NORAD website (see article http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22388259/).&lt;br /&gt;So they all gathered around the computer to see where Santa had been and when he might make it to Colorado. Keely read aloud the places around the world where Santa had already delivered gifts. Then she said, "The good news is, he made it out of Iraq." To which my daughter replied without skipping a beat, "What's the bad news?" We all broke out in laughter. It always amazes me just how grown up that little 3-year old voice can sound. Wise beyond her years for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8488303957371371664-8480264687086955503?l=becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/feeds/8480264687086955503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8488303957371371664&amp;postID=8480264687086955503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8480264687086955503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8488303957371371664/posts/default/8480264687086955503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://becauselifeisfunny.blogspot.com/2007/12/pessimist-or-smarty-pants.html' title='Pessimist or Smarty Pants?'/><author><name>Tasha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16661358918436810540</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_396g4WXzb3A/R3PXCX9jRfI/AAAAAAAAAFI/CDI4qwiTCes/s72-c/candycane.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
