<?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-36968453</id><updated>2011-07-29T00:21:42.735-04:00</updated><category term='customers'/><category term='everyday life'/><category term='home business'/><category term='home office'/><title type='text'>My Work at Home Life</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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>46</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968453.post-237934580163202495</id><published>2010-07-17T18:02:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T18:05:01.291-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Office Dilemma</title><content type='html'>It is raining and storming out on this Saturday afternoon. So, the problem is usually this: do I catch up on housework, laundry and other household projects, or do I get some work done for the business. I don't mind either one depending on the exact project.  One potentially makes the family more money, but the other gives us clean underwear. Oh, the balancing act ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-237934580163202495?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/237934580163202495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=237934580163202495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/237934580163202495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/237934580163202495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2010/07/home-office-delimma.html' title='Home Office Dilemma'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-1012451292312407076</id><published>2010-04-12T23:48:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-12T23:57:19.417-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Camera Lessons</title><content type='html'>The other day there was a need to take some new photos of an older sample casting we have so I took out my new camera and carefully set up the shot.  The natural lighting was perfect, but I couldn't get the camera to focus on the right spot.  I adjusted some things, checked the camera settings and tried again. I usually just hold the camera in my hands and this time I even used another table as a tripod.  I couldn't figure it out.  I needed to move on so I used what I had at the time as it did not need to be high resolution for this exact project and therefore the slight focus issue was not a huge problem.  Then today I pulled out the camera for something else and felt something a little sticky near the lens.  I then checked the lens itself and noticed what looked a big lick mark all the way across it. Note to self: keep the camera out of the reach of a climbing 2 yr old.  Who knows how ago the lens was licked? My vacation photos may be a little skewed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-1012451292312407076?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1012451292312407076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=1012451292312407076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/1012451292312407076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/1012451292312407076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2010/04/camera-lessons.html' title='Camera Lessons'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-2434948044887593688</id><published>2010-04-11T12:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-11T13:43:08.569-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Work at Home Favorite</title><content type='html'>Sleeping in the t-shirt you plan to wear the next day.  In the morning, throw on some jeans and a bra (optional depending on schedule) and you're good to go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-2434948044887593688?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2434948044887593688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=2434948044887593688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2434948044887593688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2434948044887593688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2010/04/another-work-at-home-favorite.html' title='Another Work at Home Favorite'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-5812904731171636686</id><published>2010-04-09T22:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T23:01:41.611-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Home Office Lives On</title><content type='html'>I still do most of my computer/phone work from a home office.  The kids are getting a little bit older and all but 1 are in school.  So, forgive me for getting a little brave today and making a call from the car with 3 kids in tow.  The call was to one of our vendors and it's not really a big deal if they hear giggling and child chatter as many of them also work from a home office. However, while I was on the phone in a rather in depth conversation, my 5 yr old threw some sort of toy/gadget (thanks McDonald's) which bounced off the back of my head and then into the face of my 2 yr old.  The 2 yr old then let out a scream that I have never before heard come out of her mouth and then continued to cry as loud as she ever has.  The conversation had to be moved into a gas station parking lot. It wasn't all a loss.  It gave me a chance to go over some paperwork with the vendor. Flying papers in the wind beat a screaming child any day.  Note to self: kids and phones don't mix&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-5812904731171636686?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5812904731171636686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=5812904731171636686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5812904731171636686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5812904731171636686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2010/04/home-office-lives-on.html' title='The Home Office Lives On'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-8959907071159960545</id><published>2009-11-24T14:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T14:19:39.844-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's the Mute Button!?</title><content type='html'>So I recently upgraded the mobile phone I use for business.  It's an HTC Hero and it is great, BTW. However, I have STILL not mastered the mute and/or hold button which is sometimes necessary as I have a 2yr old running around my office quite a bit of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this is an apology to the customer that heard ear piercing screams.  I had no choice but to hang up, call back and blame it on a wild animal outside my office window.  We are in MN so we are more or less in the midst of either a forest or lake everywhere we go anyway, right? (Seriously though, many people from either the west or east coast have no idea where we are an those that think they do believe we are part of Canada.) Either way, I'm fine with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sure hope I figure this phone out soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-8959907071159960545?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8959907071159960545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=8959907071159960545' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/8959907071159960545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/8959907071159960545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2009/11/wheres-mute-button.html' title='Where&apos;s the Mute Button!?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-2839217923939430765</id><published>2009-01-24T16:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T16:26:50.529-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='everyday life'/><title type='text'>Toilet Paper, Anyone?</title><content type='html'>I have a business and a family of six so purchasing supplies and/or household items in bulk is a regular occurence.  However, even though the 24 pack of cream of chicken soup, 8 boxes of crackers and the 36 pack of quick noodles are great and may help out in a local food emergency, there is something very satisfying about hauling a case of toilet paper through the door and stacking the rolls on a shelf.  I feel like I have done my duty as the owner of a toilet and as a mother.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if it's because there are not a whole lot of appropriate alternatives, or because once you realize you are out-of-stock, it is not usually convenient to make a quick run to the corner store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So does a cupboard full of my favorite brand of toilet paper make me prepared, or just weird?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-2839217923939430765?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2839217923939430765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=2839217923939430765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2839217923939430765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2839217923939430765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2009/01/toilet-paper-anyone.html' title='Toilet Paper, Anyone?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-870177613657295082</id><published>2009-01-08T21:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T22:03:01.761-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Year!</title><content type='html'>For just a bit after the Holiday season, there is always a short time to catch your breath from both crazy schedules and a busy sales season.  I'm not so sure which is worse: being so busy you don't have time to think, or having a little extra  time and not sure what project to do first (if any). I'll let you know what I decide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-870177613657295082?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/870177613657295082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=870177613657295082' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/870177613657295082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/870177613657295082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-year.html' title='A New Year!'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-6859544694899409839</id><published>2008-11-11T09:23:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T17:43:05.775-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Help Is Hard to Find</title><content type='html'>If having a home business isn't bad enough, trying to find good help is neary impossible.  Take a look below at what I have to put up with . . . &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X9dHKOQqndo/SRmV1PqKQNI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-E5k9lgOyRg/s1600-h/100_3072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_X9dHKOQqndo/SRmV1PqKQNI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-E5k9lgOyRg/s320/100_3072.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267405981155475666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And seriously Mary, this isn't junior high art class. Get to work !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X9dHKOQqndo/SRmWDvM-yiI/AAAAAAAAAAc/lTF9C8S4SBc/s1600-h/mary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 274px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_X9dHKOQqndo/SRmWDvM-yiI/AAAAAAAAAAc/lTF9C8S4SBc/s320/mary.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267406230141192738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-6859544694899409839?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6859544694899409839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=6859544694899409839' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6859544694899409839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6859544694899409839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/11/good-help-is-hard-to-find.html' title='Good Help Is Hard to Find'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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/_X9dHKOQqndo/SRmV1PqKQNI/AAAAAAAAAAU/-E5k9lgOyRg/s72-c/100_3072.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36968453.post-1236693897858616665</id><published>2008-08-17T20:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T20:53:33.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Know your weaknesses</title><content type='html'>Everyone has weaknesses and I think the key is to find out what they are before anyone else does.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew how to sing.  I wouldn't even care if I wasn't that good as long as I wasn't so bad that I was the talk of the birthday party.  "Who was that singing?  What was she thinking trying to hit that second birthday high note?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I can wish, my fairy god mother isn't coming soon so I do the next best thing.  I listen to and often sing along to my IPOD while I mow the lawn. No one (not including me) can hear my singing.  How perfect is that!?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-1236693897858616665?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1236693897858616665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=1236693897858616665' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/1236693897858616665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/1236693897858616665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/08/know-your-weaknesses.html' title='Know your weaknesses'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-3044755962325145547</id><published>2008-08-16T19:46:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T19:57:52.264-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What are you telling me . . .</title><content type='html'>I'm somewhat accustomed people telling that I can't do something, or that "such and such" is not a good idea. Well,it's good thing I don't listen or my life as I know it would not exist.  It started out as a result of being a stubborn pain in the rear as a kid, but as an adult, I realized most standard opinions and suggestions were not for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion, there are two overall ways to deal with life, a new job, stress, and just about any decision - big or small. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are those that will explain either to themselves or someone else how something CANNOT be done. They will list all the negatives, "what if" nots and go over every which way failure will surely occur.  [&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are those that will do anything in their power to figure out how something CAN be done. They will strategize, maybe pray and find every conceivable way how something surely will succeed even if that means adjusting their plan along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now how likely will the first person reach their goals even if the idea itself is a good one? How likely is that the second person may succeed even if their original idea is bad one? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who do want to be?  Who do you want to be in your company?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-3044755962325145547?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3044755962325145547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=3044755962325145547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/3044755962325145547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/3044755962325145547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-are-you-telling-me.html' title='What are you telling me . . .'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-6315541048792248534</id><published>2008-05-27T23:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T23:26:47.271-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Gallon's Worth of Gas</title><content type='html'>It's was a very busy day with the business with yesterday being Memorial Day. The entire day was rushed and I ended up running out of the house at the last minute with 2 kids in tow in order to pick up 3 more at school (not all mine - this time). Many times I have an errand to run as well, but not today. I like days like today when I leave the house in my sweats and if I'm lucky, no bra. Today was one of those days, but my sweats were all in the wash so I was wearing some very old ones that belonged to my husband complete with elastic ankles and a slightly torn crotch area. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in a hurry, can't find my purse, but I don't care as I'm not stopping anywhere. Off I go. Half way on the 8 mile trip, the low gas indicator chimes. Then I remember that the crazy gas light has actually been on for a day and was registering "0" miles left the night before. There are no gas stations along the direct route, but what does that matter as I don't have my purse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great, that's just what I need - to run out of gas with someone else's child in the car. At least I remembered my cell phone - just in case. Once I picked up the kids at school, I had my daughter dig in the car for cash or loose change. We ended up with about $4.00. There was no way I was going to make the trip to drop of the extra child and then back our house, etc. So, I had to make a pit stop with my $4.00 in change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, with my extra long, elastic ankled, ripped crotch sweats and no bra, I handed the gas station clerk my change and asked for a prepay of 1 gallon of gas on pump #5. It wasn't my proudest moment, BUT if that is the worst thing that happens this week, I am very grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to all, a good night . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-6315541048792248534?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6315541048792248534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=6315541048792248534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6315541048792248534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6315541048792248534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/gallons-worth-of-gas.html' title='A Gallon&apos;s Worth of Gas'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-7333915145490964196</id><published>2008-05-26T16:59:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T17:21:09.153-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I will be honest with you . . .</title><content type='html'>This is how I start out many of my responses to acquaintances and strangers that ask about certain aspects of what I do. I have an online business and unlike what people expect I should be doing, I don't were a t-shirt randomly in public that advertises the business, I don't have a window decal in my car with the website info and I don't hand a business card out to anyone I see or speak to regardless of the situation. That's not to say I don't ever do an of these things as I have a worn a shirt with my business name and have business cards and brochures available when I do demonstrations, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where am I going with this and what am I being "honest" about when people wonder why I don't do these things? "Don't you want to promote your business?" is what is asked of me. Sure I do, BUT I don't want to be asked by just anyone how much money I make, can they get free products, how they can get started doing the exact same thing, where I get those "nifty little sample containers," do I really make any money at all, who designed and built my website (I did, by the way and I'm not for hire) and on and on. These are the types of questions I get when people know what I do. It's never, how much for such and such product. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The honesty part comes in when I don't think having those types of advertisements are worth the possible very few sales I may be missing. So if you ever hear me saying to someone, "do you honestly think I want to give you business advice while I pump gas and we listen to my crying infant and 4 &amp; 6 yr old boys argue over who can or cannot see the airplane trail in the sky," you better back away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, don't take any of what I say as business advice. I don't do much of anything that the "experts" recommend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this Memorial Day, thanks to all service men and women, past and present.  May God bless you and your family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-7333915145490964196?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7333915145490964196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=7333915145490964196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/7333915145490964196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/7333915145490964196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-will-be-honest-with-you.html' title='I will be honest with you . . .'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-886694093107800878</id><published>2008-04-15T12:23:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T13:02:41.468-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you kidding me  ...  !? (my most recent post office experience)</title><content type='html'>On our daily run to the post office (yes, I prefer to drive them there vs. have them picked, but that's another story) I had one of those infamous keys in my PO box. I hadn't picked up mail from the PO box in 1 or 2 business days because the key ring onto which the PO box key is attached was misplaced. It's not a big deal because that outgoing packages are not not affected - my main concern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, what I found in the lock box was a Priority Mail package that I had sent out 2 days prior. It was never sent out because I apparently owed postage. I have a scale, print postage on the computer and I have never had a problem with this over the last 4 years. So, I weighed the package on the scale in the PO lobby and it was fine. So I go out to the car, get my 2 kids and wait in line to get it straightened out so it can get on it's way to the receipient. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eventually get to the counter and of course they know me there. The service rep says Hi and states that I must have had a bad day because they have an entire box of packages from the day before with the wrong postage. To make a long story short, their scale must have been off - enough to put it 1/10 of an ounce over the next weight class. So now, I have who knows how many packages that are either 1 or 2 days delayed. A lot of times, the packages are sent priority mail so that they arrive sooner than our standard ground shipping. I could just see some potential refunds - over 1/10 of an ounce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my issue. After this, I re-weighed all of the very common package combinations and found out that I had been overpaying on some first class packages by 47 cents. Do you think they ever thought of holding the packages (and there are many of those per day) so that they can refund me? Of course not. Also, the priority mail packages from the day in question were all same size and the very same packages that we ship daily. They weigh our packages each and every day and on this day, all of them were 1/10 of an ounce over the next weight class. You think they'd check the scale?? Instead, they hold, and therefore delay, several Priority packages. If something were to come up, I'd end up refunding, but I didn't even get an apology - just a comment about their scale possibly being "out of calibration" the day before. Luckily everything turned out okay, but ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-886694093107800878?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/886694093107800878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=886694093107800878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/886694093107800878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/886694093107800878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/04/are-you-kidding-me.html' title='Are you kidding me  ...  !? (my most recent post office experience)'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-328365140251751933</id><published>2008-03-21T14:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T14:54:59.733-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Underwear Order</title><content type='html'>A lot of times you will hear people say that they would love to work at home so that they (among other things) could work in their underwear. After five plus years running a business out of my home (for the most part), I'd have to ask why would anyone want to do that? Sweats or shorts maybe, but underwear? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about anyone else, but I have kids with me most of the time and someone unexpectedly coming to the door at least once a day. I don't even want to look at myself partially naked every time I pass a mirror and I certainly wouldn't expect anyone else to do so. Also, I can just see them telling the clerk at the super market that their mom's uniform consists of white granny pants. For that, matter what about the occupational hazards? I may bend over and get something caught in my tape gun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fast forward to spring break week. The kids are at Grandma's for a couple of days so the schedule is a little more casual. I stayed up until 2 or 4 in the morning working on extra projects and didn't get up until 8 or 9am. The business officially "opens" for phone calls at 9am so this morning I was barely awake and barely dressed when the first call came in. So now I can officially say that I have worked in my underwear. It was even a sale, so I can even say that I officially made money in only my underwear. I wonder how that would go over at "show-in-tell" in Kindergarten during "tell us about your parents work" week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-328365140251751933?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/328365140251751933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=328365140251751933' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/328365140251751933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/328365140251751933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/03/underwear-order.html' title='The Underwear Order'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-4027297379566234673</id><published>2008-02-21T21:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T22:26:46.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweatshirt Shopping</title><content type='html'>I grew up in a very small town where everyone knows everyone (even if you don't think they do). One aspect of large city life that I have grown to love is the anonymity. I think once in 12 years I ran into someone I knew while running errands. Well, that was until tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At about 9pm I ran to the nearest store for some infant nose drops (so hopefully the rest of us can get some sleep), which was a Walgreens. I was in the midst of working in my shop when I remembered the errand so I left just as I was with ink all over my hands from a cartridge refill gone bad, a badly stained sweatshirt and ripped running pants. I really couldn't care less about appearances, but that just goes to show that I don't ever except to see anyone I know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, while browsing the aisles, I heard someone call out "hello" from behind me. I looked back and reciprocated the greeting, but wasn't 100% certain who I was speaking to. I thought it was probably my neighbor, but because we are in the deep freeze otherwise known as Minnesota, I hadn't seen him face-to-face since about September or October. I quickly looked outside and saw his truck, which confirmed he was indeed my neighbor. At the same time I casually covered up my impulse purchase - a body waxing kit. I wouldn't want that along with my large bottle of children's Ibuprofen and bag of pretzels to give him the wrong idea about our evening life. I felt bad for him because based on his need for a prescription, 2 types of Robitussin, orange juice and Mentholatum, someone in his family was not doing well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later, we pulled up together into our respective driveways knowing a little more about our neighbor and waved to each other for probably the last time until May when it is safe to be outside again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about hime, but I felt good knowing that it could be another 12 years before this happens again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-4027297379566234673?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4027297379566234673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=4027297379566234673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/4027297379566234673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/4027297379566234673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/02/sweatshirt-shopping.html' title='Sweatshirt Shopping'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-3728941943315983738</id><published>2008-02-07T11:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T11:28:26.731-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='customers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home office'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home business'/><title type='text'>So what was that number again?</title><content type='html'>I've been asked several times what I like the least about running my own business.  It took me a while to come up with something.  I mean, what is not to like.  There's being able to type this in my underway at 10:15am and processing orders at 3am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, one thing finally came to mind. I have only had to do it twice that I can recall, but the worst thing you can make me do is to call a customer back and tell them that their credit card information has been rejected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first, taking orders over the phone was the thing I least enjoyed (and luckily 95% of our orders are placed online).  Even though the customer had called me to place an order, I still felt weird when the conversation got to the point of asking for payment.  I have since gotten over that and it is second nature, but what I still almost fear is when the credit card info they give me is rejected by our credit card processor.  For various reasons, I almost always process the card several minutes after getting off the phone so if the card is rejected I would have to call the customer back (and then I hopefully remembered to get their phone number).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even now, you will probably still hear a sigh of relief whenever a card is processed successfully.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-3728941943315983738?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3728941943315983738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=3728941943315983738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/3728941943315983738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/3728941943315983738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/02/so-what-was-that-number-again.html' title='So what was that number again?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-6266890142667362914</id><published>2008-02-04T10:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T10:30:45.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Hand Mold Instructional Video Demonstration</title><content type='html'>This quick video was made by a family member for one of our family run businesses: &lt;a href="http://www.castingkeepsakes.com"&gt;Casting Keepsakes&lt;/a&gt;.  We hope it's a great compliment to our written directions and slide show photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4yQKVw0pRVY&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4yQKVw0pRVY&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-6266890142667362914?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6266890142667362914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=6266890142667362914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6266890142667362914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6266890142667362914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/02/blog-post.html' title='Baby Hand Mold Instructional Video Demonstration'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-2359303676166588868</id><published>2008-01-26T11:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T11:29:19.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Candy Cleaning</title><content type='html'>Because we run a business (mostly) out of our home, we have an even greater challenge managing time than the average family with 4 kids 8 and under. Cleaning and keeping the house organized are no exception.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although many things are kept up throughout the week, we set aside a few hours a week (usually Saturday morning) for "family cleaning time." This is when the kids do a thorough cleaning of their rooms and we get on our hands and knees and scrub the ceramic and hardwood floors (not my favorite), etc. Not only do the adults have to motivate themselves, but we have to in turn motivate the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be honest and say that the reward charts and all those types of things are more work for me that it's worth and they always seem to get tampered with, so I have come up with my own solution for clean time, which is pretty much the only time we need a rewards system. Except for maybe at Grandma and Grandpa's house, the kids (nor the rest of us for the most part) don't consume soda-pop, candy or chips. So when "clean time" is over we all head out to the store and each child picks out a treat. It works out well. They each usually pick out something different and do "trades." You'd think they had won the lottery - it's great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you don't avoid soda, candy or chips for health reasons, you can use this as an excuse and have them only for special rewards. I know maid services cost much more than a $0.65 bag of Skittles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-2359303676166588868?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2359303676166588868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=2359303676166588868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2359303676166588868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2359303676166588868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/01/because-we-run-business-mostly-out-of.html' title='Candy Cleaning'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-2232500127856298564</id><published>2008-01-25T00:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T00:34:45.984-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hungry ?</title><content type='html'>This past weekend our family's plans changed suddenly and significantly and therefore we did not get a chance to do our bi-monthly big grocery shopping run. I was going to make a quick run to the closest store, but to be honest, I just didn't feel like it. I then opened up the cupboard and then the freezer and decided that we actually quite a bit of food considering it was grocery shopping time. So, except for a gallon or two of milk, we decided to have a little "fun" and use only what we had on hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We heated up some ready-to-eat soups that had been around for probably a year, used up several ingredients in a "surprise" hot dish that surprisingly tasted quite good, and the kids had a great time making pudding that we didn't know we had. And guess what, it's the end of the week and other than the fact that we are running out of creative ideas for the after-school-snack, we still have plenty of food in the cupboard and freezer. And we surely must have saved money. [Now how can I apply this to business . . . .]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is obvious that we have never known what it is like to go hungry and not know where the next meal will come from. I'm considering trying to make it another week and hopefully give the kids a better appreciation for where food comes from, etc.   And there's no need to worry: we still have at least a half dozen cans of either cream of chicken or cream of mushroom soup, plenty of chicken breasts and 10 lbs of rice (don't ask). What more could one ask for . . . ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-2232500127856298564?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2232500127856298564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=2232500127856298564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2232500127856298564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2232500127856298564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/01/hungry.html' title='Hungry ?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-5547561072866437806</id><published>2008-01-22T11:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T23:15:50.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can Someone Help Me Understand ...</title><content type='html'>I just can't believe that in the same country for which the news of the most recent mother who killed her newborn twin made national headlines today, but abortion on-demand is a "right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that if a woman aborts her baby (whether it be at 10 weeks, 24 weeks, or has a partial birth abortion at 37 weeks) that it is perfectly legal, but if a woman drowns or otherwise kills her newborn infant she goes to jail for life (well, that is provided she doesn't plead insanity).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I agree that there are sooooo very many people that probably shouldn't have kids, but that still isn't a reason to take a life. Maybe we should make adoption easier and less expensive. Statistics show that there are about the same number of families waiting to adopt as there are abortions performed. I don't think that is a coincidence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how much this is debated, I will never understand the position of supporting the "right" to take a life. I have an annoying neighbor with an even more annoying kid who I think will never be a productive member of society. If I call that child a fetus, do you think the "choicers" will take care of the problem for me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-5547561072866437806?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5547561072866437806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=5547561072866437806' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5547561072866437806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5547561072866437806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2008/01/can-someone-help-me-understand.html' title='Can Someone Help Me Understand ...'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-2210208020820599900</id><published>2007-10-27T21:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T00:02:30.470-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Rebellion</title><content type='html'>Growing up, my parents would tell you I was stubborn, strong-willed and difficult. I was actually a straight "A" student, but I would find just about any way I could to annoy the teachers (for which I am now terribly sorry), parents and just about any authority figure. As far as school, I would argue/negotiate about getting that last point to get a perfect score on a test instead of 98%, purposely arrive to class just seconds after the tardy belly rang - stupid stuff really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone just assumed I was bored. That could be true I guess, but as an adult I still seem to have a need to not follow the ("unspoken") rules. For some reason, I feel the need to run to the "nice" grocery store in town in my toner stained college sweatshirt with shorts and sandals (in overcoat weather), not shave my legs before my "yearly" exam, not put on make-up for my driver's licence photo and in fact, purposely wear that same college sweatshirt that I had worn for my prior driver's licence photo and hang out with the men around the fish cleaning table outside vs inside with the women cooking dinner or whatever else they do in there. I could go on, but I fear I have already revealed too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is these very characteristics that make me who I am and keep me from loosing my hair and my mind while I run a business and attempt to raise 4 kids (okay, so I have a little help from my husband). Friends, but especially family, tease me about my daughter turning out the same way I did and giving me a "run for my money." I can only hope she and I are that lucky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-2210208020820599900?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2210208020820599900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=2210208020820599900' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2210208020820599900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2210208020820599900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-rebellion.html' title='My Rebellion'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-4029863130894139212</id><published>2007-10-27T20:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T21:00:25.019-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Man, Woman or the Missing Wheel</title><content type='html'>Just as I was about to leave to volunteer on the playground at my kids' school, I remembered that I had forgotten to put the stroller in the back of the van for the baby. Already bordering on being late, I quickly ran into the garage and "threw" the double stroller in to the back of the van.&lt;br /&gt;Once we arrived at the school and I was setting up the stroller, I noticed one of the front double swivel wheels was missing. Right at that moment, before I had even fully comprehended what was in front of me, one of the other volunteers (who happens to be a man) approached me. He saw me looking in the direction of the missing wheel and once he realized what I was looking at, he stated something similar to, "wow, look at that - it's standing on it's own with only 3 wheels." He then gave it a push and mentioned that unless a child was going to sit in the front seat (which I wasn't planning on as my baby sits in the rear reclining seat) it didn't seem to affect the stroller at all. He walked away to head over to the playground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was thinking to myself that, yeah, I guess it will still work. I most definitely didn't have time to do anything about it. It was ridiculous looking and I assumed people would think I'm a little nuts, but it's certainly better than no stroller and therefore leaving the infant in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;carseat&lt;/span&gt;/carrier (which she hates when not in motion) or carrying her around myself. Just then, an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;acquaintance&lt;/span&gt; of mine walked past as she was leaving the school and started laughing. I guess she agreed with me. She then asked me how it happened, what was I going to do about it, maybe I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;'t going to be able to "work" the playground that day and other things of that nature. Well, that as a fine how do you do - was she trying to break my volunteer spirit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned, I didn't have much of a choice, so I put the baby in the rear seat and went on went about my way. As I avoiding flying footballs, swinging jump ropes and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;occasional&lt;/span&gt; "the boys are chasing me" squeal from a 3rd grader, I was in deep thought about my missing wheel (okay, not really, but it did cross my mind whenever a child would let me know my wheel had fallen off).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As in life, business and relationships, things happen and there's not much you can do about it. I think there is that phrase about how life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react and/or deal with it. So in this example, are you the man, woman or are you still looking for that missing wheel?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-4029863130894139212?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4029863130894139212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=4029863130894139212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/4029863130894139212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/4029863130894139212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/10/man-woman-or-missing-wheel.html' title='Man, Woman or the Missing Wheel'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-486467705266016743</id><published>2007-10-02T22:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T22:20:53.477-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Any Other Minnesotans Out There?</title><content type='html'>Jokes or not, all but 1 of these statements was true for me (a lifelong Minnesotan).  Enjoy ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what Jeff Foxworthy (American comedian) has to say about Minnesota and Minnesotans:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don't even work there, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If "Vacation" means going anywhere south of International Falls for the weekend, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you measure distance in hours, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know several people who have hit a deer more than once,you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; If you have switched from "heat" to "air conditioning" and backagain in the same day, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can drive 75 mph through 2 feet of snow during a ragingblizzard without flinching, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you install security lights on your house and garage, but leave both unlocked, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you carry jumper cables in your car and your wife knows howto use them, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winterand road construction, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you find 10 degrees Fahrenheit "a little chilly", you live in Minnesota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you actually understand these jokes, and forward them to all your Minnesota friends, you live in Minnesota.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-486467705266016743?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/486467705266016743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=486467705266016743' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/486467705266016743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/486467705266016743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/10/any-other-minnesotans-out-there.html' title='Any Other Minnesotans Out There?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-1428746957003083934</id><published>2007-08-13T15:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T13:11:17.001-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Which is worse ....</title><content type='html'>For reasons I don't really need to explain, working hard on a hot day I became concerned that my deodarant may no longer have been working. The strange thing was, I had taken a shower just a few hours before and as certain I put on sufficient amounts of the stuff and I had never had a problem in the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It then occurred to me that may I had forgotten to up on the deodorant in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I should be more concerned that the deodorant was no longer working, or that I had forgotten to do something that has been a daily routine for 20 years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-1428746957003083934?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1428746957003083934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=1428746957003083934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/1428746957003083934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/1428746957003083934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/08/which-is-worse.html' title='Which is worse ....'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-3912717523187697312</id><published>2007-08-13T15:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T15:27:12.340-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Home Office Assistant</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://www.castingkeepsakes.com/images2/homeoffice.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;For some reason this past winter, my "assistant" decided that underneath my (temporary replacement) desk chair was the best place to take a quick nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most days, I wished I could join him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-3912717523187697312?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3912717523187697312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=3912717523187697312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/3912717523187697312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/3912717523187697312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-home-office-assistant.html' title='My Home Office Assistant'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-7112616667677564046</id><published>2007-07-29T21:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T21:43:20.267-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Peace-Lovers vs. Peace-Makers</title><content type='html'>Thomas a Kempis once said, "All people desire peace, but very few people desire those things that make for peace."  That's another way of saying, there is a difference in this world between those who are peace-lovers and those who are truly peace-makers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many people in our world who say they love peace, but what they are really saying is that they don't want to be bothered.  They turn away from necessary conflict and ignore dangerous evils hoping they will just go away.  Someone who is truly a peacemaker, on the other hand, is one who is willing to struggle, to confront, one who doesn't look away but willing to deal with difficult things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-7112616667677564046?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7112616667677564046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=7112616667677564046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/7112616667677564046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/7112616667677564046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/07/peace-lovers-vs-peace-makers.html' title='Peace-Lovers vs. Peace-Makers'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-988280791013787715</id><published>2007-07-15T16:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T17:11:51.577-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Just Want to be Happy</title><content type='html'>How many times have you heard that phrase? Personally, I'm tired of hearing it. I think to myself, "so be happy already and stop talking about it." However, what most people probably mean to say is, "I want someone or something to MAKE me happy." Well, it doesn't work that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep in mind this is just my insensitive opinion, but no thing or person can make you happy. That is a conscious decision you make for yourself. It is being content and satisfied with your situation and most importantly, satisfied with the destination of your eternal soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are plenty of underprivileged people that are happy and satisfied with life. There are also plenty of unhappy people that have more money than they can spend and more "friends" than they can count. So, we're back to something outside and beyond material things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite frankly, I think most people in the US have too many "things" trying to make them "happy" and they've forgotten how to "live joyfully." Take a trip to another country where people are thankful for clean water and an education, think about where you will go when you leave this earth, and then hopefully you can shut up and "be happy" already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go in peace; my rant is now over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-988280791013787715?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/988280791013787715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=988280791013787715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/988280791013787715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/988280791013787715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-just-want-to-be-happy.html' title='I Just Want to be Happy'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-5595463178691031415</id><published>2007-06-27T21:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T21:26:34.094-04:00</updated><title type='text'>In my dreams . . .</title><content type='html'>There are few things that I wish I could do, or talent of which I am jealous.  Of those few things, dancing is one of them.  I am watching "So You Think You Can Dance" right now and the partner dancing especially just blows me away.  I took a ballroom dance class in college and a had a blast.  My partner and I were always one of the best 2 couples in the group (not that there was fierce competition or anything).  Of course that was back when I was a lot younger and in pretty good shape.  It's like being the starting football quarter back in high school.  You never forget the short-lived experience, but everyone else has, or didn't even realize it was you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-5595463178691031415?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5595463178691031415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=5595463178691031415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5595463178691031415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5595463178691031415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/06/in-my-dreams.html' title='In my dreams . . .'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-6171825557479433256</id><published>2007-04-22T18:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T10:37:55.991-04:00</updated><title type='text'>When the cat is away . . .</title><content type='html'>Well, it's more like when the kittens are a way the momma cat will ... EAT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my husband takes the kids out for a bike ride on a beautiful Sunday afternoon and I sit down at the computer to get a couple things done. It then occurs to me that some McDonald's french fries would be really great right about now. After all, I did manage to somehow miss lunch. We rarely eat fast food. Neither my husband nor I really like it all that much and none of us need it, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;McDonalds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; just sounded good today. So a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;McFish&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &amp; fries it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I was done I decided that I better hide the evidence. [I don't know if I'd be forgiven if the kids found out I went to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;McDonalds&lt;/span&gt; without them.]  So, I put the trash in the outside garbage, but when I got back inside I noticed I had forgotten the outer bag. No big deal, I simply turned it inside out (to hide the writing) and stuffed it in the inside garbage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you believe that my 5 yr old son found it when went to go throw something else away! The even funnier part is that he thought it was from the last time we had gone to McDonald's (probably over 2 months prior). I don't know if he thought we had kept it as a keepsake or what.  It was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Sponge Bob&lt;/span&gt; bag after all.  It didn't even occur to him that his mother would sneak something like that past him.  [It's not that we usually have months of garbage lying around, we had been spring cleaning and throwing away a lot of unusual things that day.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, would you confess?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-6171825557479433256?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6171825557479433256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=6171825557479433256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6171825557479433256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6171825557479433256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/04/when-cat-is-away.html' title='When the cat is away . . .'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-485269428371898284</id><published>2007-04-22T12:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T12:54:42.535-04:00</updated><title type='text'>When a sale is just not worth it.</title><content type='html'>So I run this small business - mostly out of my home.  The business is small, but the money is very good as far as we are concerned.  I'm happy.  I guess then it should be a compliment when customers or organizations think I'm much bigger than I am.  It is - until they start wanting things from you - for free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More often than you'd think, I get requests for donations - large and small.  I have no problem with this if it is within our means.  However, there are a couple of things I look for - some of them maybe a little selfish, but this is a business &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;after all&lt;/span&gt;.  If I'm going to donate to someone for which I will receive no advertising, I prefer it be local and/or for someone or some event to which I have a personal connection.  For example, my kid's school, our church, a local family, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would personally never have the nerve to do this, but more often than not, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;requests&lt;/span&gt; I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;receive&lt;/span&gt; are from people I have never met from across the country.  The story is usually touching.  They want the items for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;underprivileged&lt;/span&gt; families, someone who has a terminal illness, etc.  I would LOVE to be able to help anyone and everyone with everything if I could, but seriously, I am not rolling in money and how do I even know these situations are legitimate.  Isn't that why people prefer to donate to large charities that in turn donate to individuals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The few times I've agreed, it is under specific circumstances and honestly, I usually wish I never had.  The reason for this attitude is that because in almost in every situation I spend an incredible amount of time "hand-holding" these "customers."  Sometimes I spend more time with these people than I do with 6 months worth of regular customers.  I won't get into the details of what I mean by "hand holding," but you'd think that after getting something for free (or nearly free), they'd be grateful and would simply say thank-you and move on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this doesn't seem like a pathetic rant, but such &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;requests&lt;/span&gt; have become more and more frequent.  I can handle dealing with larger organizations, but it's the small requests that are difficult. I suppose those asking figure that such a small request would mean nothing to us, but they don't realize the frequency of those requests.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-485269428371898284?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/485269428371898284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=485269428371898284' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/485269428371898284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/485269428371898284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/04/when-sale-is-just-not-worth-it.html' title='When a sale is just not worth it.'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-6762656986737727742</id><published>2007-04-12T10:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T10:19:29.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'>For all the SAHM's who get no respect......</title><content type='html'>For all the SAHM's who get no respect......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man was sick and tired of going to work every day while his wife stayed home. He wanted her to see what he went through so he prayed "Dear Lord: I go to work every day and put in 8 hours while my wife merely stays at home. I want her to know what I go through, so please allow her body to switch with mine for a day. Amen." God, in his infinite wisdom, granted the man's wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, sure enough, the man awoke as a woman. He arose, cooked breakfast for his mate, awakened the kids, set out their school clothes, fed them breakfast, packed their lunches, drove them to school. Came home and picked up the dry cleaning, took it to the cleaners and stopped at the bank to make a deposit. Went grocery shopping, then drove home to put away the groceries, paid the bills and balanced the check book. He cleaned the cat's litter box and bathed the dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was already 1 P.M. and he hurried to make the beds, do the laundry, vacuum, dust, and sweep and mop the kitchen floor. Ran to the school to pick up the kids and got into an argument with them on the way home. Set out milk and cookies and got the kids organized to do their homework, then set up the ironing board and watched TV while he did the ironing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 4:30 he began peeling potatoes and washing vegetables for salad, breaded the lamb chops and snapped fresh beans for supper. After supper, he cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, folded laundry, bathed the kids, and put them to bed. At 9 P.M. he was exhausted and, though his daily chores weren't finished, he went to bed where he was expected to make love which he managed to get through without complaint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, he awoke and immediately knelt by the bed and said, "Lord, I don't know what I was thinking. I was so wrong to envy my wife's being able to stay home all day. Please, oh please, let us trade back" The Lord, in his infinite wisdom, replied, "My son, I feel you have learned your lesson and I will be happy to change things back to the way they were. You'll just have to wait nine months, through. You got pregnant last night."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-6762656986737727742?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6762656986737727742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=6762656986737727742' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6762656986737727742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6762656986737727742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/04/for-all-sahms-who-get-no-respect.html' title='For all the SAHM&apos;s who get no respect......'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-8535148552884966133</id><published>2007-04-05T21:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T22:04:08.277-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Swimming Naked</title><content type='html'>I believe the following was originally quoted by Warren Buffet:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's only when the tide goes out that you learn who's been swimming&lt;br /&gt;naked."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It makes me giggle and it is so, so true. [And when I'm not afraid of who may see this, I just might give some examples.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-8535148552884966133?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8535148552884966133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=8535148552884966133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/8535148552884966133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/8535148552884966133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/04/quote-to-ponder.html' title='Swimming Naked'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-286675056700890319</id><published>2007-03-06T10:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T21:45:06.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting through late nights.</title><content type='html'>I do a lot of work after hours, which is sometime between 8pm-2am. The kids are in bed, neither the home phone nor the business phone should ring, no one will be stopping by the house, etc. So naturally, I can get a lot more done in 2-3 hours in the evening than I ever would during the day. The only downside is the potential boredom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it's nice to have silence, but more often than not I prefer some stimulation while I work. There's the radio, cable &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; (yes, I have a small &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; mounted in my work room), books on tape, seminars on DVD, etc. However, my favorite thing is watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; shows on DVD and in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;particular&lt;/span&gt;: Grey's Anatomy and Scrubs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one time I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-med, but during &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;interviews&lt;/span&gt; for a number of medical programs, I was told that I should be an attorney. I've been told that I'm argumentative and (was, maybe still am) a little (or maybe a lot) lacking in patient beside manner. I always had the right answer technically speaking, but apparently failed the portion of the interview relating to patient interaction. (Hey, I was 22-23 and didn't think it was important). For those that are familiar with Grey's Anatomy, I had a little of Christina in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I became a biomedical engineer and 3 children later, I am working late into the evening quite often. When I'm working alone, the playing DVD is my "co-worker." I've probably seen all episodes of both Grey's Anatomy and Scrubs 2-3 times minimum, but having seen them before allows me not go be glued to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;. In the beginning I would stop what I was doing (without realizing it) in order to watch, which obviously defeated the purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no question Grey's Anatomy is my favorite. If I were a teenager or college student, my room would probably be plastered with Grey's posters, I'd have all existing soundtracks from the show (I've heard they're good) and every other word uttered between my friends and I would be, "Seriously?!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-286675056700890319?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/286675056700890319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=286675056700890319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/286675056700890319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/286675056700890319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/03/getting-through-late-nights.html' title='Getting through late nights.'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-4017749121905009732</id><published>2007-03-02T12:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T12:29:53.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Minnesota Blizzard</title><content type='html'>We needed the snow.  As snow goes, MN has not received much in the last 5 or so years.  It would have been nice to get some of the 2 feet of snow before March so we could enjoy it during what most consider winter, but what can you.  So . . . school is closed today as are many government offices, colleges and universities.  Although an hour or so late after digging out of the snow this morning, my husband did think it was necessary to go in to work today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is days like this that I have learned to lie very low as a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;WAHP&lt;/span&gt; of a 7, 5 &amp; 2 yr old.   This weather and school "snow day" is just as much a surprise and/or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;inconvenience&lt;/span&gt; to me as it is to everyone else.  Yet, many seem to think I can drop everything and watch their kids, pick up kids from somewhere or generally just be at the "beck and call."  In fact, the help I normally have will probably not even be able to make it here today, so not only do I have all of my kids here all day, but I have more work than on a normal Friday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today I am hiding out in my house.  Once I am done with what feel I absolutely need to do (which is maybe 20% of what I should do), I will come out of hiding and take my kids outside to enjoy the snow.  It is then I turn back into stay at home mommy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-4017749121905009732?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4017749121905009732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=4017749121905009732' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/4017749121905009732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/4017749121905009732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/03/minnesota-blizzard.html' title='Minnesota Blizzard'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-5469080457453218439</id><published>2007-02-27T11:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-27T12:07:08.417-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I've Done - Phone Related</title><content type='html'>As a work at home parent, sometimes you need to improvise.  And over the last 5 years, I've done just that - especially in the beginning.  I'm going to start with the first 5 things I think of that are phone related.  [If I listed everything at once, you'd think I was crazy.] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1-Locked my self in a closet to get away from the kids in order to answer a customer's call.  This I have done many times.  [Whether now or in the past, I usually have the business phone attached to myself and phone calls NEVER come in when I am in my home office - Murphy's WAH Law?]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2-Ran out into the unheated garage in stocking feet and 20 below zero weather to answer a customer's call (the closet may have already been in use).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3-Taken a phone order using a color crayon to write on the bottom of one of my kids' puzzle boxes (probably while locked in the closet).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4-My 4 yr old answered the business phone.  All I heard her say is "I don't know" and "I don't think so" and then she hung up.  Luckily the customer called right back and thought it was cute. [Somehow, this has only ever happened one time in 5 yrs.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5-Pulled off a 4 lane freeway onto a side road to take a customer's order when I realized they were going to call every 20 minutes until I answered and I was on a 3 hour trip.  [I often have calls forwarded to my cell phone.]  For this same call I had stood outside (because 3 kids were in the vehicle with me) and when a very loud tractor of some sort drove by, I claimed it was construction outside my open office window.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-5469080457453218439?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5469080457453218439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=5469080457453218439' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5469080457453218439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5469080457453218439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/02/things-ive-done-phone-related.html' title='Things I&apos;ve Done - Phone Related'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-5298680876473671226</id><published>2007-02-10T22:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-10T22:29:04.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Ahead -  by Mark Twain</title><content type='html'>"The secret of getting ahead is getting started. The secret of getting started is breaking your complex overwhelming tasks into small manageable tasks, and then starting on the first one." Mark Twain1835-1910, Writer&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-5298680876473671226?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5298680876473671226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=5298680876473671226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5298680876473671226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5298680876473671226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/02/getting-ahead-by-mark-twain.html' title='Getting Ahead -  by Mark Twain'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-5896110940301757696</id><published>2007-01-28T18:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T12:53:35.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I drank Mountain Dew when I was pregnant.</title><content type='html'>I was chatting with a friend who happened to be very pregnant. She also happened to be drinking a can of Mountain Dew and we happened to be attending a local mom's group. We didn't really know anyone else as this was the first meeting, so it was to our surprise that someone walked up to us and criticised her for drinking Mountain Dew while pregnant (as if the 2 cups of coffee and glazed donut the pregnant stranger had been eating fulfilled her daily health goals).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have things we could do better and her daily mid-morning routine of one 12oz can of Mountain Dew is hardly a big deal - or anyone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; business for that matter. This was a routine we both had - a quick dose of sugar and caffeine in a convenient 12oz can. Neither one of us like sweets and for the most part drink water the rest of the day, so if that's the worst thing we did while pregnant, the world should be pleased. My friend politely thanked the stranger for her advice and we continued our conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so we were a little disturbed by the comment so the next day we went to the mall with our 2 yr &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt;. They each had a mountain dew bottle (no Dew, just water), a jumbo box of Milk Duds (with the duds replaced with raisins) and a very large candy necklace (okay, that was real, but the kids didn't know it was edible). For the very pregnant moms, we each found the largest name brand disposable coffee cup we could find (filled with ice water). We then &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;proceeded&lt;/span&gt; to walk throughout our local mall. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Interestingly &lt;/span&gt;enough, no one said a word - lots of stares - but no comments. I guess we looked a little too crazy to be confronted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're probably thinking: they're just trying to help - it takes a village to raise a child. I do see your point and overall I agree. However, I am always looking for an excuse to relive my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;rebellious&lt;/span&gt; days and that's not easy when you're hauling around a 2 yr old and 12 months pregnant. Don't test me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-5896110940301757696?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5896110940301757696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=5896110940301757696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5896110940301757696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5896110940301757696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-drank-mountain-dew-when-i-was.html' title='I drank Mountain Dew when I was pregnant.'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-7979613853927747301</id><published>2007-01-22T11:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T19:12:06.658-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Child - My Pet?</title><content type='html'>While researching something else, I stumbled upon a couple of "child-free" websites. No, I don't mean something x-rated or anything of that nature. These were online communities that have decided - some at ages as early as 19 - that they never, ever wanted children. Some reasons included trying to avoid passing on genetic problems and being too emotionally unstable. I was dumbfounded, however, that the majority of posts compared children to pets. And in these cases, pets were held in higher regard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came upon the site, the 2006 Holiday season was soon approaching and there was a lot of chatter regarding bringing their pets along. "If my sister can bring her annoying kids to Thanksgiving dinner, why can't I bring Fido." This was brought up several times and the literally meant "bring Fido to dinner." That is, set him a place at the table. Someone else would chime in and complain that her two Labrador retrievers had to be put outside during dinner while her brother's food-throwing, milk-spilling, sneeze-on-my-food toddler sat next to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I can certainly understand wanting some "adult only" time at some point and an out of control child shouldn't ruin dinner. However, we're talking about a family gathering and children who are "the future" of our families and nation. Will Fido help support their future economy and future retirement years?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess we should be grateful that Fido's human parents are not reproducing. And for the record, I love the Fidos of the world. I would just rather play a game of fetch after dinner versus help him slurp his apple cider at the Thanksgiving table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAHParents, keep up the good work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-7979613853927747301?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7979613853927747301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=7979613853927747301' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/7979613853927747301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/7979613853927747301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/01/my-child-my-pet.html' title='My Child - My Pet?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-1939165132363773666</id><published>2007-01-22T11:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T20:46:27.634-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue Monday</title><content type='html'>"Researchers in England, citing unpaid holiday bills, rotten weather and people's realization that they likely won't live up to their New Year's resolutions, say Jan. 22 is the unhappiest day of 2007." This is from an &lt;a href="http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,245465,00.html"&gt;article&lt;/a&gt; that flashed on my screen when I first opened one of my internet browsers this morning. I guess if a person wasn't feeling depressed already, the writers of this articl wanted to make sure you know that you should be?  That way, the only direction to go is up, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;England's weather is a something like what were have here in Minnesota, so all kidding aside, I think folks here can relate. In fact, in regards to the weather, it's been rather stinkier here than any other time I can remember. It seems that everyone in the midwest has received snow other than us and the lack of snow hasn't extended our 8 hours of winter daylight. To those of you that live in states that don't see snow, you may think this is a good thing. However, if you're going to freeze your tongue to a pole, there better also be a way to make a snow angel afterwards. Saying something like, "Okay kids, go outside and play in the cold" just doesn't seem right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether you are in Minnesota or in sunny Florida, I hope your 'winter blues' don't last long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-1939165132363773666?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1939165132363773666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=1939165132363773666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/1939165132363773666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/1939165132363773666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/01/blue-monday.html' title='Blue Monday'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-740421265785667361</id><published>2007-01-16T11:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-16T11:51:05.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I Blame You?</title><content type='html'>When you run your own business and with few exceptions serve every role in the company, who do you blame when something goes wrong? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I leave town for the weekend (typicallywith the kids), I always bring my laptop in the hopes of getting a little extra work done.  This past weekend, we made our little trip and while packing up ton leave in the midst chaos, I neglected to pack up the power supply to the laptop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, no big deal, things could be a lot worse in life.  Overall, the power supply could be mailed and be in my hands in 2-3 days, but there was the possibility that I could find one and have a spare right away.  Also, we have 2 other computers in the house that could be used if I transferred all the data over, but that would take 1-2 hours of time I didn't really have.  So, I proceeded to find one in town.  It was going to cost me over $80, but considering the time I'd save, I decided it was worth it.  The only problem was, no one had it in stock.  So, after wasting a good hour, it was time to spend another 2 hours or so getting another computer set up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In situations like these, I only wish I was back at the large corporate office where a technician would take care of this for me while I worked on something else.  I am certainly glad that I can take care of everything that needs to be done for the business, but just like with parenting, I only have 2 hands and my sanity tank is usually running on empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I ended up forfeiting over 3 hours of time (of which I don't have much of to begin with) so that I could have a functioning computer.  When I get my original power-house-of-a-computer back, I will need to synchronize my data again.  In the grand scheme of things, this really isn't a big deal, but it can be extremely frustrating.  The worst part is that there is no one else to blame but myself.  And the ironic thing is, when things go correctly, money is coming in and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;miraculously&lt;/span&gt; there is equal time for everything in our humble family life, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;WAHP&lt;/span&gt; doesn't get all the credit - it's just life as usual.    Sounds a little like Motherhood to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-740421265785667361?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/740421265785667361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=740421265785667361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/740421265785667361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/740421265785667361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/01/can-i-blame-you.html' title='Can I Blame You?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-6512905432835213089</id><published>2007-01-07T12:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T13:02:31.616-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2007 News Years Resolution?</title><content type='html'>Many have asked what my New Year's Resolution is for 2007 both personally and for my business. Quite honestly, I never make such resolutions. I don't think there is a need. For example, I probably ate way to much during the holidays, was too busy with the business to even think about exercising or anything else other than taking care of the basic necessities for that matter. So the way I see it, if I can get back to some normalcy by the first week of January, a separate resolution isn't necessary. It fits: I won't be eating as much junk, I have the time to exercise and the house gets a thorough and continuous cleaning. It's what I call my built-in personal resolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as a resolution (or goals) for the business in 2007, I can only hope that things progress and continue on exactly how they were in 2006. Now I'm not saying that I don't want the business to grow in various ways (there are monthly goals already in place for that), but as a WAH Parent, I can only hope that in 2007 I can continue to spend quality time with my children that I would otherwise not have if I was working outside the home. I want to continue to be able to let the phone temporarily go to voicemail on a moments notice if a child is ill, needs a hug after a fall, or if they need to be picked up early from school because their pants split an important seam in a lost fight with the monkey bars on the playground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have read many times that to be successful working from home, there needs to be separation between work and your personal life. I can see how that would be necessary for some, but I would never change the fact that for me the two are nearly seamlessly melded together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So overall my resolution for 2007 is to strive for another 2006 [with a few more sales thrown in ;-)].&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-6512905432835213089?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6512905432835213089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=6512905432835213089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6512905432835213089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6512905432835213089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2007/01/2007-news-years-resolution.html' title='2007 News Years Resolution?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-868872177976810630</id><published>2006-12-20T20:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T13:06:02.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Santa - From Mom</title><content type='html'>As a Mom of 3 under the age of 7, I thought this was great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Santa,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are my Christmas wishes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours Always, MOM...!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-868872177976810630?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/868872177976810630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=868872177976810630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/868872177976810630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/868872177976810630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2006/12/dear-santa-from-mom.html' title='Dear Santa - From Mom'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-5672121060358074630</id><published>2006-12-11T11:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T11:44:55.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My 2yr Old Assistant</title><content type='html'>It's a very busy time of year for our &lt;a href="http://www.castingkeepsakes.com/"&gt;Casting Keepsakes&lt;/a&gt; business so I decided to work in the shop Sunday afternoon to get a head start on orders that had come in over the weekend.  Our 2 older kids were away on a play date, but my husband decided that one of the errands he had to run was not appropriate for our 2 yr old.  So, he brought our little helper over to the shop for about an hour or so, which on the weekend isn't all that unusual. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally on the weekends (because most of the time I usually do have kids along) I just go over the inventory and other things that a child cannot usually interfere with.   However, this Sunday (yesterday) I was preparing orders to ship.  My little helper had to check out every box and at one point lost his toy truck and of course, we found it amongst a customer's order.  Okay, time to find something else to do until Dad came back.  I sealed up the boxes I had already prepared and decided to tidy up a little.  When it came time to leave with Dad, my little helper realized he had misplaced both of his pluggies (pacifiers).  We looked around and decided there was a very good chance they could be hiding is in one of the sealed boxes, which were ready to be sent to customers!  I had prepared dozens of orders and in the process of cleaning up the area, had shifted them from one end of the room to the other and had no idea which ones I had last sealed.  Perfect!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, my Monday dilemma - do I (or my employee) go through every box today (something we really don't have time to do), or do I let a customer find a potential surprise!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-5672121060358074630?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5672121060358074630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=5672121060358074630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5672121060358074630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5672121060358074630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2006/12/my-2yr-old-assistant.html' title='My 2yr Old Assistant'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-5047961679656085990</id><published>2006-12-04T10:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-04T12:18:04.992-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How did I get here?</title><content type='html'>Working my second job as a biomedical engineer for another great company, my life and career were great! I had been married about 5 years by then (yes, looking back, getting married at 21 seems so young now) and had a great group of friends that were all childless. We were all finally out of college and making some money. We could do much of what we wanted when we wanted. A call would come in at 9pm on a Tuesday night to go bowling and within a half hour 8 of us would be there. So that was a good time to start having kids, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked full time throughout my first pregnancy (and then some) as I went into my 42&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; week of pregnancy. My husband jokes that we are both so stubborn that neither of us would make the first "move." Anyway, I had everything planned out - go back to work after 12 weeks off with my husband and I each working four 10 hour days so that our child would only be in someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;else's&lt;/span&gt; care 3 days a week. A family member and school teacher who was off for the summer watched our daughter for the first 2.5 months and it was perfect. Our second babysitter was a friend of the family, but for various reasons I won't discuss here right now, we had reasons to believe our daughter was not safe at that residence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My well thought out plans were coming unraveled. I found a short term solution, but came to the conclusion that daycare was just not going to work out at that time. All of my immediate family lived several hours away and none of hour friends even had kids of their own yet, so I was looking at a daycare facility in a large city for an infant. That I just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;couldn&lt;/span&gt;' t do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been selling on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;ebay&lt;/span&gt; "for fun" for about a year and decided that I could make enough extra money to justify staying home. [Keep in mind that this was back in 2000 and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;ebay&lt;/span&gt; was a lot different that it is today]. That is at least until I felt comfortable putting our daughter in a larger daycare facility. However, as that time approached, I became pregnant with our second child and I realized I was in this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;WAH&lt;/span&gt; situation for the long haul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued . . . [If you're still interested]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-5047961679656085990?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5047961679656085990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=5047961679656085990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5047961679656085990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/5047961679656085990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2006/12/how-did-i-get-here.html' title='How did I get here?'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-6270480403471523981</id><published>2006-11-29T10:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T10:49:26.687-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Playing Hookie</title><content type='html'>I would NEVER 'play hookie' from my home business even if I could get away with it.  What I'm playing hookie from today is the dentist.  In all fairness, I've had a bad cold and have generally felt miserable all week.  However, my appt was at 8:30 this morning, but I didn't even take the time to call the office and cancel.  I feel bad - I really do.  I remember calling into work when I wasn't all that sick on a day that I knew would be busier than normal.  For some reason, this feels almost as bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I feel bad so much for the dentist's office, but because it takes so much planning and coordination for me to find the time to get to get to the dentist and now I've just squandered all that effort - sick or not.  Because I had no kids or work scheduled, I crawled back into bed for about an hour.  Overall, I think it was worth the guilt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-6270480403471523981?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6270480403471523981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=6270480403471523981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6270480403471523981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/6270480403471523981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2006/11/playing-hookie.html' title='Playing Hookie'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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-36968453.post-2797381647767933491</id><published>2006-11-26T17:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T13:09:03.009-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving whether it was celebrated with family, friends, or maybe a quiet day at home (yes, that does happen). Our family is lucky enough to be able to spend time with both sides of the family throughout the weekend. Many schools seem to be giving an extra day off (either Friday or Monday) so taking that time with family is a little easier and less rushed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the first time ever, I was a Black Friday shopper. My sister-in-laws talked me into it and it wasn't all that bad - maybe even a little fun. I am a late-nighter, so I need a very good reason - and a lot of persuading - in order to get up before dawn on what is supposed to be a vacation weekend. We planned to meet at the store we so carefully chose at 4:30. I miscalculated my drive time and arrived at 4:15, which ended up being a very good thing because the line was already 30-40 people deep and was growing quickly. The nice lady behind me allowed the rest of my crew to sneak in line with me when they finally showed up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were not in line at a Best Buy or some other cut-throat place and the 45 minute wait was pleasant. We are in MN, so the fact that we didn't freeze in place was a bonus. In fact, the weather was mild for this time of year - 40F - very tolerable. When 5am came, we all entered quickly, yet completely civil. Thanks to my early arrival, we all were able the get the primary item everyone seemed to be seeking as well as our pick of many other items. I didn't continue to shop with them as I had travel plans for later that morning. And I admit, I snuck back in the house and went back to bed for an hour or so. But hey, ultimately, the mission was accomplished!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/36968453-2797381647767933491?l=mywahlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2797381647767933491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=36968453&amp;postID=2797381647767933491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2797381647767933491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/36968453/posts/default/2797381647767933491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mywahlife.blogspot.com/2006/11/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Sheila</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945008863345757124</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></feed>
