<?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-6736988</id><updated>2011-07-08T06:03:30.994-06:00</updated><category term='desolation'/><category term='Bad Poetry'/><category term='discouraged'/><category term='peace'/><category term='intolerance'/><category term='death'/><category term='Individuation'/><category term='mystical life'/><category term='parenting'/><category term='birth'/><category term='hate'/><category term='spirituality'/><category term='Jung'/><category term='Sylvia Plath'/><category term='Tulips'/><category term='injustice'/><category term='power struggles'/><category term='Stability'/><category term='Halloween'/><category term='Co-Dependency'/><category term='suicide'/><category term='disgruntled'/><category term='religion'/><category term='paganism'/><category term='Dreams'/><category term='married life'/><category term='animal symbolism'/><category term='Freud'/><title type='text'>Lunablossom</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>162</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-2428005548306202426</id><published>2011-06-08T07:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-08T07:24:12.565-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animal symbolism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='birth'/><title type='text'>Dreams About Birth Inevitably Turn To Thoughts of Death</title><content type='html'>I had a dream about my mother this morning. We were on a native reservation somewhere in the woods. My friend Jeanette Garcia was there. We were working all together, gathering sticks and binding them together in bundles. On the path ahead of me sat a small round piece of drift wood. As I reached for it, it turned into an owl, spoke to me (words I don't remember) and then flew away. I turned to my mother and she had streaks of blood along her thighs. The streaks of blood became earthworms and I knew from that her time had come. We put her in a birthing chair in a small smokey room and the baby began to push its way out. I heard one of the elder men say from outside the tent that my mother needed to birth a "workhorse". I knew by that he meant a boy baby. The baby slid out into my arms and as I was trying to clear its mouth I poked one of its fragile eyes. It began to cry and sputtered out amniotic fluid. I noticed it was a girl. Donovan tried to hug it and I told him the baby was covered in blood and he should wait for me to clean it. He then tried to cut the umbilicus and I told him he must clamp it first. I remember thinking that this work was enjoyable and fulfilling and that I should get an apprenticeship under my friend Kamy Shaw. She would help me learn. My mother began cramping again and I assured her it was only the placenta passing. I left her to get a bowl big enough to hold it and that part of the dream phased into another one about a double decker carousel with fairies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing is, on the surface of it I understand consciously why my mother may have been pregnant in the dream. Because her liver and kidneys aren't functioning her abdomen is filled with fluid and terrifically swollen, even as her limbs and face are wasting away. This "fluid filled abdomen" is exactly what it is to be pregnant. The fact that she had a baby girl instead of the "workhorse she needed" indicates that I feel like a failure to her. That as a weak woman suffering from RA I am much more ineffectual in helping her than if I had been born a strong boy. The thing that concerned me the most was the presence of the earthworms and the owl. I have been taught that these are symbols of imminent death and as I have always believed, death is also a form of rebirth, thus leading back to the birthing sequence. In essence, I delivered my mother from the womb of my own mother. I am then called to look at the word "Delivered" and understand that it has multiple connotations, one of which is to rescue one from a bad situation. So, here I am knowing what it all means but wondering if it was all made up by my subconscious or if the universe planted the seed in my mind to help me prepare for my mother's death being sooner than I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did call her this morning and my father said she was fine. The dream still has me in a very thoughtful mood this morning, however.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-2428005548306202426?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/2428005548306202426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=2428005548306202426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/2428005548306202426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/2428005548306202426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2011/06/dreams-about-birth-inevitably-turn-to.html' title='Dreams About Birth Inevitably Turn To Thoughts of Death'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-3962045978453045319</id><published>2011-06-01T22:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T22:04:34.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Howling For All The Wrong Reasons</title><content type='html'>The doctor says I have shingles. They itch really badly and I've been promised by multiple people that pain will probably follow. The doctor also said that stress can cause them. I told her about my mother and about my new puppy and about Loki the cat's insane pink eye. Then I looked her straight in the eye and told her it probably was stress after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother called a couple times today. She is still fully convinced that she will die tonight. I told dad she needs to put her advanced directive on file at the hospital just on the off chance she gets put back into the hospital which is really very likely considering they would have put her back in today if a bed had been available. Both the numbers in her blood pressure are in the double digits and the home health nurse says that her kidneys are shutting down. Dad says everything will get better if they can just get her hydrated and back on the milk thistle. She has tricked us so many times that I really don't want to believe her when she says she is going to die tonight but part of me says if anyone is going to know wouldn't it be her? Then again, a very dear friend said that its possible its just the dementia talking and that she could have years left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT it rained tonight and I'm watching a biopic about Allen Ginsberg and his poem "Howl". The puppy is curled up beside me asleep and Mike made a wonderful green chili crusted grilled salmon and latkes for dinner so my tummy is full. The night is cool and I'm contented. If mom passes on tonight its what she wants and if she doesn't then that is just as well because it means that I get to spend more time with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gods and goddesses bless us with whatever is best for us now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-3962045978453045319?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/3962045978453045319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=3962045978453045319' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/3962045978453045319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/3962045978453045319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2011/06/howling-for-all-wrong-reasons.html' title='Howling For All The Wrong Reasons'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-4778830588298209630</id><published>2011-05-31T18:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T18:12:29.896-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"Real Women Have Curves... Not the body of a fifteen year old boy."</title><content type='html'>I just joined a facebook group with the name above because I thought the title was funny. I don't necessarily enjoy my curves one hundred percent of the time and I thought it would be mentally uplifting to become part of a group that did enjoy their curves. Perhaps it would make me more appreciative of what I have. The whole group was nothing but trash talking between fat people and thin people. Pure hatred going back and forth. All the thin posters said that "curvy" was just code for fat. They used words like "fattie" and "rhino". It was ugly and hateful. They made assumptions like all curvy women have diabetes or all curvy women cheap horny women just looking for some. The curvy women were just as bad. In the end I left the group after only being a member for a couple of minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did a search for groups that represented curvy women in a positive light and couldn't find any. All I could find were groups of skinny women calling other women fat and so called curvy women calling skinny women all kinds of terrible things. The interesting thing is, most of the women who had posted pictures on this group I wouldn't even consider over-weight and I got to wondering if anyone stopped to even look at these women. I am 5'6" and 177lbs. I've been this weight for almost 6 years. The medical world considers me overweight but not obese. I think most of the women who had posted pictures on this group had a lower percentage of body fat than I did. And people were on there calling them "hippos". One person said it was "easier to hit like than to go out and exercise".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly these women who are trying desperately to like themselves and be proud of who they are were being attacked not because they were being physically unhealthy but because they had the gall to try and be emotionally happy. One thing I don't think any of these women understand is that becoming emotionally happy is the first step to becoming physically happy. If these women are supported in their lives to becoming emotionally happy &amp;nbsp;they will become strong enough to be physically healthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish these women, both skinny and curvy find the strength they need to be happy and healthy and like themselves regardless of the world around them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-4778830588298209630?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/4778830588298209630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=4778830588298209630' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4778830588298209630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4778830588298209630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2011/05/real-women-have-curves-not-body-of.html' title='&quot;Real Women Have Curves... Not the body of a fifteen year old boy.&quot;'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-5857911506592822930</id><published>2011-05-31T00:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T00:01:08.441-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The World Doesn't Stand Still</title><content type='html'>It is almost midnight. Summer break so the kids are all still up. They are watching something on the internet that has them all cracking up. I watched a silly horror movie with Kevin Costner in it. I ate Taco Bell for dinner with a large Mountain Dew. Tomorrow Keira starts her acting classes and Donovan has a dentist appointment. Maybe Barnes and Noble with call me about an interview. It seems as if nothing is different. Everything is good, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact is my mom called at 2 this afternoon and told me I should drive to Deming because she wasn't going to make it through the night. She knew she was going to die. Arianna came with me, so brave for a ten year old to face what very well may be the death of a loved one. She knew the implications and came anyway. I went. Not because I thought my mother was going to die but because I knew if she did and I wasn't there I would never forgive myself. I told Mike is was like prophylactic guilt protection. I didn't go to what I called the Death Watch because I wanted or needed to say goodbye to her or because I didn't want her to be alone but because I knew I would feel guilty if I wasn't there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the grief that a daughter can feel bottled up into one crystalline moment that shatters when my mother said "I made a mistake, I didn't really need you. Go home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so here I sit, the world still turning and everything feeling all normal as if it will go on like this forever. But it won't because one day she really will die and what if that guilt isn't enough to sucker me into her drama next time... or the time after that... or the time after that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-5857911506592822930?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/5857911506592822930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=5857911506592822930' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5857911506592822930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5857911506592822930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2011/05/world-doesnt-stand-still.html' title='The World Doesn&apos;t Stand Still'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-3743531362396236425</id><published>2011-02-15T07:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T07:40:01.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging is good for the soul</title><content type='html'>"I think she only crawls out of the woodwork to blog when her life sucks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes folks, I haven't posted in forever because frankly, things were going pretty good there for a bit and I thought everything I could possibly post was boring and redundant. It was almost as if I was waiting for that moment when my life turned to shit and got exciting again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had that huge snow storm two weekends back and the pipes all froze and we had rolling blackouts which was fun. The kids and I played "Grandfather's Store" by candlelight. I realized that when I used to play with my parents we used what their great grandfather would have had in their store and I was still kind of stuck on that era. I kept coming up with things like "washboard" and the kids kept coming up with things like "atom bomb". Technically we were both right - it just depends on whose grandfather you are talking about. Except Keira who insisted on using words like "giraffe" and "penguin". I think she was using Diane Fosse's grandfather - or Jane Goodall. Or maybe that guy from The Snows of Kilimanjaro, a movie I might point out, that has neither snow nor Kilimanjaro in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I should have seen it coming - It's like the curse of Valentines Day, right? Saturday an Sunday we house sat for Sabine in Radium Springs and the weather was gorgeous and the river was low. We spent most of the weekend on the sand bar, playing in the sand and the kids watched movies and we had snacks, etc. Sunday Mike was home all day. It was warm and we grilled. I got to see Rebecca's new baby Coraline and it was amazing to hold her and play with her. At the same time it was good to see that &lt;a href="http://therebuker.wordpress.com/"&gt;Rebecca&lt;/a&gt; was wearing motherhood like a new dress. Monday morning was V-Day and I got up feeling chipper with little to no expectations about the day or romance or any silly thing like that. Mike slept late and then we went to have lunch. We talked a little bit about the future and decided that we may as well stay in Las Cruces for a year to save up money for a real move. We've done the poor move twice and it sucks, especially with kids. I'd like to do a prepared move for once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael mentioned he wanted to take me out to the movies for Valentines Day but by the time 5pm rolled around it was like thunderheads gathering on the horizon. I could smell the ozone in the air and knew it was not going to be a pleasant night. A night at the movies with my honey quickly deteriorated into dinner with the kids at "wherever you want". The dryer broke. Michael started getting anxious and throwing up again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By six am this morning I'd had little to no sleep, almost chopped my hand off in the dryer, fought with Keira about 80 times, and realized I was still so far behind on homework I'd never see the light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Optimism is just the guy that sets it up so the fall &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; hurts this time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-3743531362396236425?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/3743531362396236425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=3743531362396236425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/3743531362396236425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/3743531362396236425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2011/02/blogging-is-good-for-soul.html' title='Blogging is good for the soul'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-6652747652669470597</id><published>2011-01-31T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T19:17:57.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shedding the Pounds</title><content type='html'>I've been trying to lose weight the last couple of weeks - I've been exercising by riding my bike to school, eating better, drinking only water. The first week I gained 6 pounds. I was livid but Michael said it was only water weight and when I finally lost it I had also lost two pound so regular weight. So, in the spirit of bettering my life I began spring cleaning and in the spirit of water weight I gain a whole bunch more stuff before I was able to get rid of other stuff. So now my house is trashed but I got rid of 3 bags of garbage and several boxes yard sale goods...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-6652747652669470597?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/6652747652669470597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=6652747652669470597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6652747652669470597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6652747652669470597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2011/01/shedding-pounds.html' title='Shedding the Pounds'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-4952146953767757360</id><published>2010-09-18T11:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T11:48:54.212-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Selfish</title><content type='html'>I decided, since everyone is out of the house and its my birthday weekend, I'm not going to clean the house alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-4952146953767757360?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/4952146953767757360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=4952146953767757360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4952146953767757360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4952146953767757360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2010/09/selfish.html' title='Selfish'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-7365423657548611661</id><published>2010-09-17T06:45:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T06:59:49.611-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='married life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disgruntled'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='discouraged'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='power struggles'/><title type='text'>Power Dynamics of the Patriarichal Home</title><content type='html'>I feel like I'm stuck in some power struggle I don't quite understand. Mike fought all night to sleep on my side of the bed. I've slept on the same side of the bed for 14 years and suddenly last night he started sleeping on my side of the bed and refused to budge. I slept on the couch for part of the night, tried to sleep on his side to no avail and finally wrestled what little space I could on the edge of my side. As soon as I got up to wake the kids this morning he resolutely moved back into my spot. What is going on here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm a little OCD that this even matters but seriously - you run your life a certain way for 14 years and then someone up and changes it without explanation, without remorse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keira's another one. She looks me straight in the face this morning and tells me, "I have no clean clothes." Her drawers are filled with stacks of clothes we bought her at the beginning of school and here's the kicker: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Some of them still had tags on them.&lt;/span&gt; So when I put the nice new jeans on her she throws and absolute shit fit. Yelling, screaming, kicking. You'd think I'd suggested we lobotomize her the way she was carrying on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ari and Donovan have chosen their sides, the quit doing homework two weeks ago and have been lying about it ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired. My psychologist says the only one I can control is me but it feels like when I stop trying to control them they either give up or gang up on me. The house is trashed because no one will clean it but me and I haven't had time. Homework isn't getting done by anyone but me. And I don't even get a side of the bed anymore. And this is where I'm supposed to come up with some startling revelation that will help me deal with myself and the world around me but you know what? I got nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="YontooInstallID"&gt;03B0E900-3553-B642-0C2B-6B0309EE90F0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="YontooClientVersion"&gt;1.02.28&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-7365423657548611661?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/7365423657548611661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=7365423657548611661' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7365423657548611661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7365423657548611661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2010/09/power-dynamics-of-patriarichal-home.html' title='Power Dynamics of the Patriarichal Home'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-7261877173998490835</id><published>2010-09-16T06:17:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T06:32:42.402-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tulips'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sylvia Plath'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='desolation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='suicide'/><title type='text'>I Curse Her For Leaving the World the Coward's Way</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;"&gt;"I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;"&gt;To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;"&gt;How free it is, you have no idea how free—— &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;"&gt;The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;"&gt;And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;"&gt;It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-indent: -1em; padding-left: 1em;"&gt;Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Tulips  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sylvia Plath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that need for peace that she speaks of. The image of pale white palms open on white sheets is almost religious, I have seen pictures of Jesus and Mary with their palms facing outward like consolation. But the hugeness of the peacefulness, and the permanency of it... That is what scared me away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the need for the quiet, for peace, is not so alluring and I can gain peace and happiness from my day to day mad rush. I can take a minute before the family wakes to write this journal. I can sit on my meditation pillow and ask the goddess or gods for Grace. I can ask them to grant me peace and tranquility. Yesterday they gave me the gift of the flowers. Today I can only imagine what they will send my way. Tomorrow, perhaps I will get no peace at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the important thing is that I know what Sylvia wanted and I know she finally got it. I commend her the strength she had in going through with it but at the same time I curse her for leaving the world the coward's way...&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="YontooInstallID"&gt;03B0E900-3553-B642-0C2B-6B0309EE90F0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="YontooClientVersion"&gt;1.02.28&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-7261877173998490835?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/7261877173998490835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=7261877173998490835' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7261877173998490835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7261877173998490835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-curse-her-for-leaving-world-cowards.html' title='I Curse Her For Leaving the World the Coward&apos;s Way'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-98409057584149010</id><published>2010-09-15T06:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T06:24:02.208-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stability'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Individuation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freud'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Co-Dependency'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jung'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bad Poetry'/><title type='text'>Jung Would've Laughed...</title><content type='html'>I dreamed about bad poetry and old high school gyms all night. I also dreamed that my old boss got a promotion and was moved into the basement. The faculty down there was dirty. One of them was an FBI agent wearing a wire. They almost killed him until I hit one of the glass walls with a baseball bat. The climbing wall was made out of pvc, plastic and duct tape and little kids slept in the folded up bleachers. Maybe Freud would laugh too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams aside, I've started to get a complex that the world it out to get me. I know that sounds crazy but if you can't sound crazy in your diary where can you sound crazy. The only people who read this understand that I was already crazy years ago anyway. Anyway, when I need to do homework the internet quits, when I want to clean the house the kids go on strike. It is as if every time I want to get something accomplished some thing goes on the fritz, as if I'm still in a dream. A very frustrating nightmare. I know my shrink (and probably Freud, too) would say that my need to control the world around me is short circuiting the things I most wish to control. My kids represent my ability to control my family's future and ensure they grow up to be good, well rounded people with stable futures. The internet represents my need to have stability in my life where the bills always get paid, the power is always on and we always have a roof over our heads. Despite my best attempts I just can't seem to keep my bills paid on time. Maybe that has something to do with the strange current of incoming funds that seems to dry up suddenly, or maybe it has to do with the fact that I tend to spend money on stupid shit instead of important things.&lt;br /&gt;I think Jung would see this as a stage in my process of individuation. I'm recognizing the issues lodged deep in my psyche and now I just have to figure out a way to fix 'em. And I do recognize, as I mentioned in my last post, that I'm controlling and co-dp. I guess I'm also a little high strung and over-dramatic at times. (The world is out to get me?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, its really hard to take the morning seriously when the sun hasn't even gotten up yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="YontooInstallID"&gt;03B0E900-3553-B642-0C2B-6B0309EE90F0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="display: none;" id="YontooClientVersion"&gt;1.02.28&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-98409057584149010?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/98409057584149010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=98409057584149010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/98409057584149010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/98409057584149010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2010/09/jung-wouldve-laughed.html' title='Jung Would&apos;ve Laughed...'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-8722730478822388532</id><published>2010-09-14T11:01:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T11:27:19.666-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hangs her head in shame...</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I've been a horrible blogger and an even worse diary updater. Usually when I've gone this long before updating I give a really long recap post so you all know what has being going on. This time I'm not. Sorry but here is the recap: Shit happens. And it happened to me. A lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm working on two things in my life right now, my need to control not only every minuscule detail in my own life but also those around me, and my co-dependency (from her on out referred to as co-dp). I'm pretty sure these things go hand in hand but if I chose to take them as two small problems instead of a giant humongous single problem, its less overwhelming. I'm reading a bok called "Co-Dp No More". I'd love to say I'm no longer trying to control everyone around me but I haven't made that much progress. I have made enough progress to recognize that I am a controlling bitch that suffers from roughshod insanity when things are out of whack. So that is some kind of progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In school we are studying the Confessionalist poets Lowell, Berryman, and Plathe. I realized shortly after we started that they too suffered from roughshod insanity. A ton of poets and writers were. Completely, shithouse insane. I feel like I'm in good company. This is a good realization in my life because by recognizing the problem we can take steps to solve it, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, I feel fall in the air and I love it. I want for it to be mosquito and allergy-less.&lt;br /&gt;I want the smell of pumpkin on my hands, the smell of chimney woodsmoke and fresh baked bread. I want everything that is fall. Summertime has officially become a doo-doo head and needs to go to away. I think I want to use this as my commonplace book. I have been keeping my commonplace book in my backpack but it is giant and heavy and it makes so much more sense to post it here. A commonplace book is a journal filled with art and poems, stories and vinettes written by you but also by people that you admire. Its like a collection of moods and emotions. I've never done one online before and I think it might be tricksey but I'm going to work for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a long lost friend on facebook and she accepted my friend request but now she ignores me and doesn't answer my wall posts. Ok, I can see being pissed off at me and I totally understand holding a grudge but why accept my friend request? Why not just ignore it? Another friend that is still kind of angry at my treatment of her in highschool accepted my friend request with the caveat that we not talk about the past. That makes complete sense to me and I respect her for it immensely. We've both grown and become different people so it is important to leave the past behind us. Maybe I'm reading into it, maybe the more recent add is not still mad at me from high school but is just too busy to respond. I'll set it on a shelf and let it stew a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 days until my birthday. Thirty four. This number doesn't hold any fear or angst for me. I just really don't give a shit. I remember when I was a kid, every morning on my birthday my mother would ask, "So, do you feel any different?" I remember I always tried very hard to reach down inside of me to find a 'differentness' but I never could find one. I guess the last couple of years I've just stopped looking for the element of change inside of me. I am changing all the time, making myself a better person; more spiritual, more giving, more patient. My age doesn't have anything to do with that. Wisdom comes with practice not with time. Again, I guess those go hand in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to apply for a job. I know this ruins my "June Cleaver" credibility but to be honest the house doesn't stay any cleaner with me being home than it would if I were bringing money to help pay the bills. My house is a shambles. I'm sorry. It will be clean when I retire. I've have one of those spectacular perfectly clean and tidy homes when I retire. Right now I'm doing what is important: Helping Keira learn to writer her letters, helping Ari with her spelling lists, helping Donovan with his "Allow ballcaps to be worn in school" petition, and keep my own grades up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next? Maybe a poem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-8722730478822388532?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/8722730478822388532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=8722730478822388532' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/8722730478822388532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/8722730478822388532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2010/09/hangs-her-head-in-shame.html' title='Hangs her head in shame...'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-7973409023208516499</id><published>2009-11-05T07:26:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T07:54:18.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crossroads Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SvLjDenLoYI/AAAAAAAAADo/A4ZLYXUB6dk/s1600-h/jwwaterhouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 348px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SvLjDenLoYI/AAAAAAAAADo/A4ZLYXUB6dk/s200/jwwaterhouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400628552067162498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My surgery is scheduled for December 10&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and while I am super thrilled about maybe getting rid of the pain I am still at a point where I am mourning that part of my life. Though I am being physically ushered from the mother stage into the crone stage earlier than my body planned, I also find my spiritual life following along behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing a big paper for my Honors Art and Mythology class where I take a really in depth look at the social and historical factors involved in the Demeter and Persephone myth. It has pulled down, headlong, like Persephone herself into the Underworld. I see the symbols left by the myth everywhere. In Underworld, we find that Selene has been brought over as a young girl to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;vampirism&lt;/span&gt; by the "King" of the vampires. This directly correlates to Persephone being forcibly removed to the underworld.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In John William &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Waterhouse's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Narcissus&lt;/span&gt; we find a young girl picking flowers, oblivious to the dangers in the world around her. Indeed, Narcissus were the favored flowers of Persephone and Zeus told Hades where he would find her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the Matrix sequels, we find a character named Persephone who is married to a gangland boss type character who owns a club called Club &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Hel&lt;/span&gt;. Her husband figures into the story as being in charge of lost souls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sometimes used character in the Persephone myth is Hecate, Goddess of the Crossroads. She is sometimes styled as a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;psychopomp&lt;/span&gt; who journeys with souls into the underground, her torches lighting the way. She is the goddess who presides over crossroads where three roads converge and I find this especially telling in the trinity of the Three aspects of Woman. If Persephone is Maiden, Demeter is Mother, the Hecate is Crone. Persephone is, more precisely on the cusp between maiden and mother, she was a maiden but her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;innocence&lt;/span&gt;, her childhood is "dead" and she has tasted of the pomegranate, a fruit that mimics eggs in the womb. Demeter is on the cusp between Mother and Crone. She is mother but her child has grown and left home. Her action of  bringing winter to the world is a symbolism of her now barren womb. Hecate too, is a woman on the cusp of a great journey, for she is the wise woman of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;cronehood&lt;/span&gt; but can also travel into the world of the dead. This leads me to believe that all the main female characters in the Persephone myth are one woman and that woman is all women. We are all at the crossroads. In honor of that realization I jotted down this poem:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Crossroads Woman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;At dawn, her shadow sat like fat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;limbed&lt;/span&gt; Cupid upon the wall.&lt;br /&gt;She bathed in the sweet nectar of Narcissus blossoms,&lt;br /&gt;Her journey was just begun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At noontide, her shadow stretched like the silken locked Kore&lt;br /&gt;She bathed in the sharp, tart juice of the pomegranate,&lt;br /&gt;Her journey half done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Evening, her shadowed rounded like Hecate upon the wall.&lt;br /&gt;She bathed in the heavy scented musk and clove,&lt;br /&gt;Her journey undone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a woman at the crossroads, and had always been so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-7973409023208516499?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/7973409023208516499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=7973409023208516499' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7973409023208516499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7973409023208516499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/11/crossroads-woman.html' title='Crossroads Woman'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SvLjDenLoYI/AAAAAAAAADo/A4ZLYXUB6dk/s72-c/jwwaterhouse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-5305634198160103044</id><published>2009-11-01T09:10:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T09:43:57.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dia De Los Muertos</title><content type='html'>Charles T. Snyder&lt;br /&gt;Alberta Synder&lt;br /&gt;Marion Snyder&lt;br /&gt;Thomas Fetters&lt;br /&gt;Price Chisolm&lt;br /&gt;Richard Fetters Sr.&lt;br /&gt;Richard Fetters Jr.&lt;br /&gt;Jean Block&lt;br /&gt;Bertha Ronkko&lt;br /&gt;Andy Ronkko&lt;br /&gt;Donna Barber&lt;br /&gt;Julie Morgan&lt;br /&gt;Bonnie&lt;br /&gt;Hector Telles&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-5305634198160103044?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/5305634198160103044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=5305634198160103044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5305634198160103044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5305634198160103044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/11/dia-de-los-muertos.html' title='Dia De Los Muertos'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-6960938506460277887</id><published>2009-10-29T10:20:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T10:52:42.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Dream on the Wings of the Wind</title><content type='html'>It was really windy two nights ago. A cold spell roared in on the wind and the temp dropped so quickly during the day we got snow. Anyway, the wind sounded just like the ocean. The trees blew, the leaves rattled and it sounded like waves rushing in and out. I must have heard the sound in my sleep because I had a dream about the ocean. I have had, throughout my life, a reoccurring dream about a river in the Gila. The rocks are flat and red, sometimes trees, sometimes people, sometimes scrub and sand. It differs from dream to dream but its always the same place. This time the river was the ocean. The kids hadn't been to the ocean in a long time, Keira never. They were afraid of it but I bullied and badgered them into going to dip their feet in the surf. I have Keira and in my arms and the older two run ahead. When we get to the surf, however, the waves are twenty feet high and they go over our head. I struggle and fight to surface knowing that while I can hold my breath for a little time, poor Keira's lungs are much smaller and won't last as long. I fight and fight but to know avail. Then I realize that the fighting isn't getting me anywhere and I relax. In that moment, I am so calm, so happy, I have my baby in my arms and I'm drowning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's where the dream ends. It was still predawn at that time and I got up and stood outside. The wind was blowing so hard. I was clueless as to what the dream meant but I realized that it wasn't a scary dream, I didn't wake up crying or afraid. Just calm, thankful for the wind, loving my children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-6960938506460277887?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/6960938506460277887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=6960938506460277887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6960938506460277887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6960938506460277887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/dream-on-wings-of-wind.html' title='A Dream on the Wings of the Wind'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-7231691957665524920</id><published>2009-10-28T00:07:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T00:31:27.327-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cosmetology... I don't think so</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SufgJ38ylSI/AAAAAAAAADQ/ApQd0BlwuEU/s1600-h/IMG_0506.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SufgJ38ylSI/AAAAAAAAADQ/ApQd0BlwuEU/s320/IMG_0506.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397529138669196578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did a bunch of things with the kids again today. I'm finding more and more often that I'd rather hang with the kids than do my homework. I"m such a mommy. Well we got some liquid latex from a friend of ours and tried very hard to make elf ears by dipping spoons in the liquid latex. We got one that looks kind of like a regular human ear, one that looks like a leper's ear, and one that looks roughly like a deflated boob. I'm not sure what I'm going to tell them. I think they are going to be out of luck this year because I am short on money and even shorter on time. If anyone out there has ideas and/or extra elf ears let me know. Then I got bored with the ears. Its liquid latex so it literally can be categorized with watching paint dry except for the fact that Keira thinks it smells like "buttocks". I think that's her super polite for year old way of saying it smells like ass. I'm staring at one of the mutant flesh colored spoon condoms now. Its mocking me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got invited to two Halloween parties this year (four if you count the two we can't get to) and one of them is a birthday party that includes trick or treating in a very cushy-cush neighborhood. I'm happy we'll be going with &lt;a href="http://therebuker.wordpress.com/"&gt;Becca&lt;/a&gt; because I was dreading going alone and Mike wanted to stay home and hand candy out this year. I envy him. So little kid party, some trick or treating and then over to Bill and Rachel's for the "Family Friendly" party. Love it. Did I mention trick or treating in the rich neighborhood?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after I got bored with the ears I decided to do the other thing I've been promising the kids we'd get to. We dyed their hair. The picture at the top is Donovan's before picture. Now its like 6 hours later and my back is permenantly torqued, my hands are stained various colors and there is a huge dollop of blue on the bathroom floor. Stupid mobile home builders, who puts maroon carpet in a bathroom? Mike always drips on the damn thing coming out of the shower and then I step on it 15 minutes later and think I've stepped in dog piss. Oh? You don't want to hear about wet carpets? You'd rather see the after pictures? ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Building up suspense in an obnoxious way.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SufkG96CLUI/AAAAAAAAADY/zgIy5yj-qHc/s1600-h/IMG_0509.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SufkG96CLUI/AAAAAAAAADY/zgIy5yj-qHc/s200/IMG_0509.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397533486775151938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SufkHZ3wPaI/AAAAAAAAADg/fpwOQj4rAUg/s1600-h/IMG_0511.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SufkHZ3wPaI/AAAAAAAAADg/fpwOQj4rAUg/s200/IMG_0511.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397533494281780642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't try and adjust your screen. My kids really do have leprechaun green and peacock blue hair. The bottles said "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Demi&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;permanent&lt;/span&gt;". I'm not sure what that means. Is it better that semi? Or worse? Who knows. All I know is that my back is killing me and my kids look fantastic. And smart. Did I mention Ari got on the A and B honor roll? Yeah buddy. Blue is code for "Damn I'm smart!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-7231691957665524920?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/7231691957665524920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=7231691957665524920' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7231691957665524920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7231691957665524920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/cosmetology-i-dont-think-so.html' title='Cosmetology... I don&apos;t think so'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SufgJ38ylSI/AAAAAAAAADQ/ApQd0BlwuEU/s72-c/IMG_0506.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-2194958006302589145</id><published>2009-10-26T16:57:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T17:16:52.349-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch a Tiger By The Toe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuYp2BiV4AI/AAAAAAAAADI/btVypHTii6c/s1600-h/Kizzle+Cat.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuYp2BiV4AI/AAAAAAAAADI/btVypHTii6c/s320/Kizzle+Cat.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397047211552268290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My really sweet older kitty Kizmet has got this really bad regurg issue. We've had her for about 13 years and ever since we adopted her if she ever eats or drinks to quickly she immediately loses whatever it was she drank. When she gets sick she makes this really strange high-pitch mewling noise that is very distinct and I've learned that if I get her when she makes that noise I can get her onto the tile so she doesn't yarf on the carpet. Lately, however, she's started to dash under the bed when I head for her and my maybe-authentic-but-threadbare-persian-rug isn't exactly benefiting from the fact that Kizzle is marking it indelibly with her own personal essence. So it has been an adventure that always starts with the mewl. She mewls. I carefully move forward with my hands up in a gesture of innocence, making noises of my own, "Here kittykittykittykitty. pstpstpst. c'mon sweetie." She eyes me warily and changes position, aiming for the bed. "It's ok, Kizzle, c'mere kittykittykitty." I lunge and she, who is considerably fast for a puking fourteen year old cat, darts out of reach under the bed. I shudder knowing I'm going to have to move that bastard queen to get at the mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today went differently, however. I actually caught her back foot. She couldn't run away, she only has back claws so she couldn't scratch me and she was a little busy yarfing anyway. So I held her by her back leg while she puked onto the thick maroon pile of the almost shag carpeting we have everywhere the Persian isn't. I realized shortly afterwards that cleaning cat vomit off of tightly woven Persian is ever so much easier than out of shag and thanked the goddess she hadn't puked in my bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-2194958006302589145?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/2194958006302589145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=2194958006302589145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/2194958006302589145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/2194958006302589145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/catch-tiger-by-toe.html' title='Catch a Tiger By The Toe'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuYp2BiV4AI/AAAAAAAAADI/btVypHTii6c/s72-c/Kizzle+Cat.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-4749631754150578610</id><published>2009-10-25T22:54:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T23:16:19.810-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Visual Aids</title><content type='html'>I have started reading a bunch of pagan mommy blogs and I realized how long its been since I posted pictures of my kids (5 years! Can you believe it!) so I thought I'd add some of the most recent ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuUvZ61G-nI/AAAAAAAAADA/yIOiekR6Tps/s1600-h/IMG_5103.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuUvZ61G-nI/AAAAAAAAADA/yIOiekR6Tps/s320/IMG_5103.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396771850808654450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ari a little over a year ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuUtbzUt1XI/AAAAAAAAACw/tJ5G2FTV9ZI/s1600-h/IMG_0470.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuUtbzUt1XI/AAAAAAAAACw/tJ5G2FTV9ZI/s320/IMG_0470.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396769684130223474" border="0" /&gt; Keira in her Halloween 09 costume&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuUtbGIZPEI/AAAAAAAAACg/I-u9LBM1Vl8/s1600-h/IMG_0309.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuUtbGIZPEI/AAAAAAAAACg/I-u9LBM1Vl8/s320/IMG_0309.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396769671998946370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Donovan last May&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Its so weird how quickly time flies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-4749631754150578610?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/4749631754150578610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=4749631754150578610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4749631754150578610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4749631754150578610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/visual-aids.html' title='Visual Aids'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuUvZ61G-nI/AAAAAAAAADA/yIOiekR6Tps/s72-c/IMG_5103.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-2120130925675835516</id><published>2009-10-25T10:16:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T11:32:37.737-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All Things Considered...</title><content type='html'>and I think that's what happened. I didn't consider all things before posting my previous rant on the injustices of hatred. Some people that I've never met and probably will never meet said some nasty things that hurt my feelings and made me cry. People saying nasty things all the time and it doesn't make me cry. I live for writing workshops and art critiques where people sit in a circle around you and tell you how much you/your art sucks. Tough skin is a trademark of the arts industry. I'm more likely to be offended if my art isn't mentioned at all than if its torn apart because then at least I know its worth the effort of the critique. Shouldn't I have felt the same about PPD? That people mentioned it at all is a GOOD thing, it means we've gotten peoples attention. It means that maybe one person will learn that we aren't evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all that in consideration... what happened?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PMS - Now before you feminists go all crazy on me for being a traitor to the gender, let me explain. I know we've been working to remove the stigma of PMS inhibiting our ability to be rational. I know men have said for centuries that women can't make good decisions because they are led by emotion and not logic. But sisters, I have to be honest with myself. I get PMS. Sometimes its subtle and indiscernable but sometimes its a raging torrent that makes me cry at Disney Vacation commercials. Sometimes I cry because I can't chose between a white cable knit sweater with wide cables and an identical white cable knit sweater with narrow cables. So maybe I freaked out a little. But I'm ok now and I am back to respecting that this is AMERICA and we are given the freedom to voice are opinions even if said opinions are mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dononvan and Ari are watching The Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd. I love that my kids are interested in the same things as me. Distracted much? Uh yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to what I was saying before. In my stories I always have the main character come to this dramatic realization and shift and the workshoppers are always telling me that its not realistic but I just proved them wrong because I had a dramatic shift of opinion. God, I'm boring myself now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-2120130925675835516?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/2120130925675835516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=2120130925675835516' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/2120130925675835516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/2120130925675835516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/all-things-considered.html' title='All Things Considered...'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-9222770452778714140</id><published>2009-10-22T08:38:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T09:17:32.497-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paganism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='injustice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='intolerance'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I posted &lt;a href="http://www.lcsun-news.com/las_cruces-news/ci_13587827"&gt;This Article&lt;/a&gt; a couple of days ago, so proud that we had found our voice and were able to try and spread a little tolerance into the world. I had heard whisperings and murmurings in the pagan world about comments that followed in the wake of that article but by and large ignored them, suffused with a golden glow of community spirit and pride for humans at large. I was proud that we had made such strides as late in terms of racial and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;socio&lt;/span&gt;-political tolerance. We, as a country, elected the first black man and a woman was in the running. The bias of 'good '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt; boy' politics was seemingly going by the wayside and I had real hopes that religious tolerance would closely follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many of us have differences of opinion. So many of us have contrasting points of view on religion, politics, and race that it has become a cliche to avoid such topics in public. Emotions seem to be tied so closely to those topics that the mind/mouth connection seems to have temporary failure and people spout out the first thing that comes into their angry and indignant mind without first considering the effects their comments will have on others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I finally gave in to curiosity and started out reading the comments following the article that is posted. Immediately I felt set back. The ocean I was treading had become so thick. I read with burning face the comments people had posted about pagans. Some had called us "deluded", some called us "circus freaks", "freak shows", one person even said we should make amends with the fact that we were "possessed by evil demons". The one that hurt the most was the person who claimed we were only going through a phase and soon we would realize our mistake and come back to the fold. Pagans then started posting back and it became a huge flame war. I read all three pages of comments and realized that one element was missing. No one realized that whatever are religious or political views were, we are people. We have hopes and dreams, secret insecurities and strengths. We eat and sleep, love, hurt, mourn, support, nurture, and express joy the same as anyone else. The comments were quick, brutal, and unemotional as if the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;commentors&lt;/span&gt; didn't realize what they were saying was hurtful. No one backed down, no one side won. It was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;neverending&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;meanspirited&lt;/span&gt;, battle of words and it hurt me deeply to read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't post a comment, not because I am a better person, but because I didn't want to perpetuate the hate. There was enough anger on that board without me adding my two cents. I considered the comments of both sides all night and still have that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one cares anymore. How is that for a broad generalized statement. The pagans who organized Pagan Pride Day did it in an attempt to educate the general public about paganism and to build bridges between pagans and other religions. But no one wants those bridges. People hate as if the hate itself is the important part, not the group they are hating. It doesn't matter if you are a pagan hating Christians or a Christian hating pagans, the result is the same. That rush of adrenaline, that smug, self righteous attitude that you are better than whoever you are criticizing. I understand the allure of hate. I too have angrily told the Jehovah's Witnesses to stop &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;proselytizing&lt;/span&gt; on my front stoop, I have told the panhandlers to stop begging and get a job, I've hated on adulterers and hypocrites, fundamentalists and politicians, pot-smokers and lax parents. It was the hate that made me feel more important, better about myself. It had nothing to do with whether I was right or wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I lived in Philadelphia I had a coworker who became my friend. She was a gorgeous black woman with beautiful blue eyes and a honest, quick wit. When I told her I was pagan she put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me with concern in her eyes. "Awww, honey. Don't you know you're going to go to Hell for that?" The hate and the judgement were noticebly missing. This was just an honest woman who cared about the status of her friend's soul and that has stayed with me longer than any of the hate mongering I've received because of my religious choices. I appreciated her faith, her honesty, and her caring. She appreciated that once she had made sure I had all the facts, I was an adult and capable of making my own desicions. We never spoke of it after that. She never condemned me, she didn't stop being my friend. She was a good person and I will never forget her. I have often tried to emulate her since then. To be honest, caring, and a friend no matter what choices others make. In the end, it is their choice to make and they are all adult enough to make that choice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we need to concentrate on is making sure that we follow the essence of goodness. I can talk all day, spouting cliches about the repercussions of your words and actions being like ripples on a pond or the single beat of a butterflies wings causing a hurricane across the world but those are trite and old and no one listens to them anyway. So instead I chose not to post a comment at all. I came here instead, to get my thoughts in order. To work my way through the pain I felt when reading those hurtful words and to hope one of these days, posts like this won't be necessary for me anymore. Or for anyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-9222770452778714140?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/9222770452778714140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=9222770452778714140' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/9222770452778714140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/9222770452778714140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-posted-this-article-couple-of-days.html' title=''/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-7608926991047042637</id><published>2009-10-21T14:28:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T14:48:05.094-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Halloween'/><title type='text'>Tis The Reason for the Season...</title><content type='html'>I went shopping today. I got, guess what, yup pumpkins and candy for trick or treaters! I got two medium sized pumpkins, one for me and one for Mike. Then I got three smaller pumpkins for the kids. Tonight will be pumpkin guts mayhem and I love it sooo much! Just the thought of roasting the pumpkin seeds, the ooey-gooey squish of gourd guts, the laughing as Donovan chases the girls around with said gourd guts, the thick sweet taste of egg nog and the spicy bite of hot apple cider, the whirl of power tools... screeech. Whirl of power tools? Yup, you heard me correctly. Mike is bringing his Dremel home from the metal's lab so he can carve his pumpkin. I asked didn't he think that would make his Dremel all... ucky. He hesitated for a minute, the silence on the other end of the line indicating some major coniving on his part. Then he dropped the bomb. "I'll just have to stop by Harbor Freight and pick up a cheapy Dremel then."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait. I think I almost missed that. The man wants to BUY a NEW tool so he doesn't ruin his old one when he does his high tech pumpkin mutilation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm almost finished with Keira's costume and I'll post pictures when its complete. I have to create a mopcap and sew some bows on, figure out if I want buttons or ties on the back and then she should be done. I was just sitting here dreaming of buckle shoes for her. I have a similar pattern for myself and I'm thinking of maybe using it this year. I have to get my submission for the English department scholarships first though. I can't blow this chance to lower my loans. So, I'll work on the short story I'm writing called "Red" and finish Keira's costume and then I'll step back and take stock of how much time I have left. If I don't get it done I have a ton of things I can rig in the meantime. That's why its awesome to be a Renn Faire junkie, always lots of costumes lying around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Jehovah's Witnesses came back today. I have a sneaking suspicion it was the same woman as last time. I told her very politely... ok maybe I got a little snippy. Anyway, I told her that there were signs clearly posted on every entrance to the park that designated it as a no solicitation zone and whether she understood it or not religious solicitation is still solicitation and could she please stop giving religious tracks to my children when they were out playing by themselves. I didn't actually tell her that last part but I told her not to solicite. She ignored me and went right next door. ARG!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last but not least: I'm following a new blog so make sure you check her out. She rocks. http://mama-blogger.blogspot.com/. Renee has a wonderful sense of humor. She's got kids. That seems to be an important concept for me when it comes to blogs. Mom, English Major, Sense of Humor. Or any combination of the above anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I think that's it for now.&lt;br /&gt;Luna&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-7608926991047042637?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/7608926991047042637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=7608926991047042637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7608926991047042637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7608926991047042637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/tis-reason-for-season.html' title='Tis The Reason for the Season...'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-4813605254392430531</id><published>2009-10-20T23:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T00:06:46.492-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Trying</title><content type='html'>I'm trying to post a little something everyday, whether its a blurb of writing on facebook or a blog entry. I'm not sure how reliable I'll be. I usually do pretty good for a bit and then I get lazy or busy. So, no promises but I don't think anyone reads me anyway so its really just for me anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine never posts to her blog because she only ever has moody stuff to write about and doesn't want to whine all the time. I kind of feel the same way. Mike and I fight a lot because I have a hard time being positive about my life. I'm always either sick, tired, or hurt and that kind of puts a damper on the moods. That and I'm having a really discouraging time with the whole weight loss thing. So... between the pain and the exhaustion there isn't really anything much to cheer about on a blog. So I hardly ever write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I've had a good couple of days so I'll post about those. I aced all three of my midterm exams even though I was seriously flipping out about a couple of them. Also, we just had Pagan Pride Day and that was really nice. I am hesitant to practice ritual with strangers but there were enough people there I was familiar with to make it ok. It was odd, but nice to do a ritual again. Its getting to be too long between them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am applying for more scholarships. Mike doesn't think I'll get them because there are so many people applying but I'll keep a positive attitude and you never know, right? I submitted a new werewolf piece that I've been working on called "Red". It probably won't get chosen simply because its a genre piece but that's ok. Also, I've been working on a colonial dress for Keira's Halloween costume and its turning out surprisingly good. I will post pictures on facebook when its done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, its midnight here so I'll leave you with a little prose:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viscous stars slurred the night; spiralling, arms held wide into the darkness. On clear nights you could see forever and on cloudy nights you could see into yourself. The chariot of Nyx strays across the horizon, pulling forth her cloak of night as the living world slumbers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Chenoa&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-4813605254392430531?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/4813605254392430531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=4813605254392430531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4813605254392430531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4813605254392430531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/trying.html' title='Trying'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-4752445057656558586</id><published>2009-10-12T09:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T09:22:04.622-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd Annual Las Cruces Pagan Pride Day this Saturday!!</title><content type='html'>the 2nd annual Las Cruces area Pagan Pride Day will be in one short week! Please pass this reminder around to friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have an amazing event planned, and with your participation, we have build a diverse and safe community. Check out our web site for schedules, details, and contact info: http:\\lascrucespag anpride.org&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few things you might want to know....&lt;br /&gt;* Bring offerings to honor those that have passed over, including your dear animal servants.&lt;br /&gt;* A food drive to benefit FYI is being conducted, so bring non-perishable food items to give back to our community. This is our "admission" into the event.&lt;br /&gt;* Additionally, we have an open drum circle at 11 am, so bring your percussion instruments and join in, or just come enjoy and move with the music.&lt;br /&gt;* A resources area is planned, so if you have a favorite web site, or belong to a group that would like to become a resource in the pagan community, bring information to share.&lt;br /&gt;* Visit our Shrine of Healng and Remembrance, and the Guardian's altar, for some intense energy work.&lt;br /&gt;* Walk the medicine wheel for some quiet time and contemplation.&lt;br /&gt;...and so much more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Opening ritual is planned for 9 am , fun and education the entire day, and closing ritual at 4 pm. Bring your food donation, and an open mind, and be ready for fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-4752445057656558586?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/4752445057656558586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=4752445057656558586' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4752445057656558586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4752445057656558586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/10/2nd-annual-las-cruces-pagan-pride-day.html' title='2nd Annual Las Cruces Pagan Pride Day this Saturday!!'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-5251524032087712556</id><published>2009-02-12T08:33:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T08:43:56.415-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mystical life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spirituality'/><title type='text'>The Spirituality of Life</title><content type='html'>I "practice" my faith everyday. I have immersed myself in it so fully that everything I do is a reflection of the gods. Every minute of every day I reflect upon who has provided that moment and give thanks for it. When I'm in metals working on a particularly difficult project I give thanks to Hephaestus. When I garden or when I'm outside I thank Cerrunos for bit of earth. The nights that Artemis and Hecate have granted us makes me want to sing out and I thank Hera for protecting my marriage. I live in the presence of the divinity every day so I am constantly aware of the connection between the divine and the mundane.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I just forget that the rest of the world isn't like that. Sometimes when someone is taken by surprise by some spiritual gift I want to click my tongue at them and tell "you should have known". But really, should they have? Is it so odd that a connection to the spiritual would take someone by surprise. That a sudden awareness of the relationship with the mystical would completely change their lives. Is it really all that far fetched to be a born again pagan... again?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-5251524032087712556?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/5251524032087712556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=5251524032087712556' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5251524032087712556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5251524032087712556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/02/spirituality-of-life.html' title='The Spirituality of Life'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-4778073744258457768</id><published>2009-02-11T13:55:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T14:01:41.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I"m positive</title><content type='html'>I'm thinking of trying to be positive for awhile. Saying things like "I can" and "I will".  I'm going to work very hard and making sure the things that come out of my mouth are things that will help me in life. My mother is so negative and hubby is so cynical that I think I've become some kind of monster accumulation of both of them. I was told by an older woman the other day that my cells could hear what I said. So when I spoke negatively about my body they heard and reacted accordingly. I'm not sure I believe that so literally but I do thing that I can be a happier, healthier person if I just stop saying I can't and start saying I will. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I sprained my knee on superbowl sunday and the doctor wanted me to get off the crutches and start using it just 1 week after I did it. I was afraid and, for the first couple of days, in a lot of pain. I still have to take a pain pill after a long day but I'm definitely seeing some improvement. Now imagine how quickly I would have healed if I'd jumped off those crutches and sang "I'm back world, and ready to dance!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-4778073744258457768?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/4778073744258457768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=4778073744258457768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4778073744258457768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/4778073744258457768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/02/im-positive.html' title='I&quot;m positive'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-1824433219923387384</id><published>2009-01-14T10:43:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T10:47:15.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March of Dimes Walk</title><content type='html'>Did you know I was a premature  baby? I am joining in the Walk to prevent future Premature Births for March of Dimes.  Any little bit helps!  &lt;a href="http://www.marchforbabies.org/lunamama"&gt;http://www.marchforbabies.org/lunamama&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-1824433219923387384?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/1824433219923387384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=1824433219923387384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/1824433219923387384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/1824433219923387384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2009/01/march-of-dimes-walk.html' title='March of Dimes Walk'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-6101518944933734790</id><published>2008-10-22T20:20:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T20:22:28.637-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Quickie</title><content type='html'>She always had a smudge of charcoal just below her left ear, as if some careless bit of art had leaned in for a kiss and left a little of itself behind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-6101518944933734790?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/6101518944933734790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=6101518944933734790' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6101518944933734790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6101518944933734790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2008/10/quickie.html' title='Quickie'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-5160098643646011349</id><published>2008-10-11T12:39:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-11T12:57:32.410-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia</title><content type='html'>Want to hear the most awesome thing?  I ate Lucky Charms for breakfast this morning.  The marshmallows tasted exactly the same as they did when I was a kid.  In fact, the taste was so familiar that I was instantly transported back to a morning in my childhood when my two friends and I ate an entire box of Lucky Charms and polished off an entire gallon of milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say they didn't taste that good after that memory.  Ug!  What a tummy ache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I'm doing laundry, reading New Moon, and maybe watching some movies.  It's one of those gradual days that wanders towards evening all day. The clouds are dark and low and the whole pace of the day is almost in slow motion.  The air is the perfect temperature, still shorts and tank top weather but with just a nip in the air that makes you shiver at random moments.  Random delicious moments.  It's like when it rains in the winter and you're able to spend the day in socks with a mug of warm spiced cider doing nothing especially. Makes me want to bake cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TImes like this I feel like I'm standing on the bank of the river of life watching it rush by me in a blur.  I know the stream rushing past me is cold and uncomfortable but it takes my places.  It gets me where I need to be.  Days like this are when I'm just sitting on a warm rock on the edge of it all, enjoying the senses of it all without really being a part of it.  As if for a split moment I'm standing outside of life itself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the Outlander series Diana Gabaldon refers to moments like this as Claire's "Moments of Grace".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't try and put a name to it, I just enjoy it, thank the goddess it happened and then step back into the current of life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-5160098643646011349?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/5160098643646011349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=5160098643646011349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5160098643646011349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5160098643646011349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2008/10/nostalgia.html' title='Nostalgia'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-8767327432276137695</id><published>2008-10-10T16:55:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T17:00:56.292-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just when you think things are going well...</title><content type='html'>I just got home from taking Donovan to the Emergency Room for a wrist injury.  We got there at about noon and we. just. got. home.  It was stressful.  The good news is that his wrist isn't fractured and there doesn't seem to be a sprain but they put him in a splint anyway "Just in case".  So he will be in a splint and sling for at least the next couple of days.  It'll be tough on him but he's mature enough to deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I mature enough to deal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No clue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-8767327432276137695?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/8767327432276137695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=8767327432276137695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/8767327432276137695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/8767327432276137695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-when-you-think-things-are-going.html' title='Just when you think things are going well...'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-8681846060418810605</id><published>2008-10-10T11:32:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T11:34:44.194-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Holding the Door Open for a Woman</title><content type='html'>She put her hand on her stomach.  It was an unconscious movement she probably would have stifled had she been aware of it. It came so naturally to her now she didn’t even realize it when her hand rose and rested against the slight curvature of the womb  that lay hard against her palm.  There was a connection there.  Nothing as dramatic as telepathy or symbiosis, just a knowledge.  It was as if the movement itself was the communication.  A gentle vibration answered by the slight resting pressure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-8681846060418810605?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/8681846060418810605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=8681846060418810605' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/8681846060418810605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/8681846060418810605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2008/10/holding-door-open-for-woman.html' title='Holding the Door Open for a Woman'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-9066175276772427175</id><published>2008-10-09T23:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T23:20:18.112-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Really?! Seriously?!</title><content type='html'>Last night a really good friend of mine woke me in the middle of the night because mutual neighbors of ours knocked on her door at 1:30 in the morning and proceeded to yell at her and terrify her until she could finally get her door shut. The male neighbor was holding the door open yelling at her. She is already terrified of men because several of her past beaus have tried to kill or maim her and having a strange angry man trying to bully his way into her house at 1:30 in the morning did nothing to alleviate this. &lt;br /&gt;What precipitated this late night siege on my good friend's abode?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week my friend's turtle was taken by one of the neighborhood kids and when she went to the kid's house to get her turtle back the kid's mom said she knew nothing about it.&lt;br /&gt;So now the same woman has her boyfriend beating down my friend's door telling her she shouldn't accuse people of things. Bullying their way into the home of an already traumatized woman, ensuring that my kids, my friend's kids and said neighbor's kids will never be able to play now...&lt;br /&gt;all because her kid walked off with a turtle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I went to the woman's house to find out why she would do such a thing and the woman acted like she had been sleeping and didn't know what we were talking about. (see a pattern here?)&lt;br /&gt;Cops were called. Police reports were filed. Sleep was lost. All for what?&lt;br /&gt;Because one woman couldn't act like an adult for two seconds. Because she felt so guilty about being caught lying she felt the need to vindicate herself through shock and awe tactics. Swoop down on her house in the middle of the night when she and her children are all alone and make your boyfriend bully her until she's in hysterical tears.&lt;br /&gt;Really?! Seriously? Can we just grow up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(10/08/2008)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-9066175276772427175?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/9066175276772427175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=9066175276772427175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/9066175276772427175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/9066175276772427175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2008/10/really-seriously.html' title='Really?! Seriously?!'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-6505337205268304131</id><published>2008-10-09T23:18:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T23:19:03.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Enjoyable and Productive</title><content type='html'>What an awesome morning! The leaves are just starting to turn and there is a chill in the air. In fact, this morning was the first morning I got to see my breath. D ran in from the bus stop and pulled me outside so I could see his breath and I caught some of his kid-excitement. I love the fall. I got up yesterday to find it had rained and it was cold. We drank hot tea and apple cider and I cleaned the house in preparation for Michael's surprise birthday party. The whole day was fun and I got a lot accomplished. You know you've had a good day when it was productive and enjoyable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now its back to the grindstone but not without enjoying the beautiful fall day around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(10/06/2008)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-6505337205268304131?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/6505337205268304131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=6505337205268304131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6505337205268304131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6505337205268304131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2008/10/enjoyable-and-productive.html' title='Enjoyable and Productive'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-7843161906902204852</id><published>2008-10-09T23:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T23:17:15.961-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Crossroads</title><content type='html'>There are a lot of things going on in my life so I figure I better get on here and document them before I make a horrible mistake. Blogging always makes my choices seem a bit more clear.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a sophomore this semester and while I love being in school and learning you kind of get to the point where you hope to see the end in sight. You want to be able to chart your course and, when charted, my journey has about seven more years left. I'm beginning to feel like Odysseus and that isn't a good thing. The graphic design program just isn't what I thought it would be. It's long, arduous, and if I'm perfectly honest with myself, I'm not learning anything. As much as I love Graphic Design, I haven't enjoyed one of my classes since I started this whole debacle. The most fun of my life has been drawing and creative writing. If the GD program weren't so intensive maybe I could get through it but I have two years left of just Graphic Design. That doesn't even begin to count the language classes, creative writing classes, Gen Ed classes, and Honors classes I have to take. My graduate date would be sometime in 2013. I would be graduating from college the SAME year as D would be graduating from HIGH SCHOOL! And like I said, it would be different if I were actually learning anything in the program but I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;I've thought about changing to a studio arts minor or a drawing major. I hate to have the last couple years of my life be a waste but I don't want the next seven years of my life to be a waste either. My other option is to just ride it out. Get all of my Gen Ed, Honors, Language, and Creative Writing Classes out of the way, take the couple of classes that I need to fulfill a studio arts minor and then see how I feel. Maybe I'm just burned out. Maybe if I wait a couple of semesters something in the Graphics Design program will change for the better... Then I'll have BA in Creative Writing and at least a minor in art if not a major in Drawing. I'll graduate with honors. Can you believe one of my GD professors suggested I either slack in one of my other classes or drop the honors program in order to devote more time to graphic design. Yeah, why don't I just sell some of my kids while I'm at it, they take up WAY too much of my time. Hmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second reason I jumped on here after so long is because I was feeling introspective. I saw two people I knew today and I didn't call out to them or say hello because I was afraid that I was mistaken and it wasn't them and that would leave me open to embarrassment. Leave me open to embarrassment?! I didn't say hello to someone I cared about because there was a chance that when they turned around the face of a stranger might have been staring at me. Then they would have said "I'm sorry you must be mistaken." and then I would blush momentarily but we would laugh about it and then go our separate ways. Then next time I would call out to them as a joke and maybe we would become friends. So now, not only did I not say hello to a friend but I also crushed what could have been a great opportunity to meet someone new. Because I was afraid to be embarrassed. How pitiful is that? All to protect me from a second of vulnerability. What a coward.&lt;br /&gt;One of these days I'm going to take the (ahem, excuse the trite phrase) road less traveled and be proud but for today... today is a good day and I think I'll let it ride.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-7843161906902204852?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/7843161906902204852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=7843161906902204852' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7843161906902204852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/7843161906902204852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2008/10/crossroads.html' title='Crossroads'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-8009016821745872594</id><published>2007-12-16T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T12:00:42.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enjoying the Present and Looking Forward to the Future</title><content type='html'>Well, finals are over and I am dying to see my final grades.  Mike says they won't be up until at least the eighteenth but I religiously go to check every day.  I hope I won't be disappointed.  I already know my viciously ignorant 3-D design teacher gave me a B.  I may have gotten an A in Art History in spite of that first C if I scored a high enough A on the final.  Ceramics and 2-D Design are for sure A's.  So now its just a waiting game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also are waiting to hear if Mike got the job that will literally pay the rent for the next couple of semesters.  Community Assistant comps the rent and gives us a little over $100 every two weeks.  Instead of calling or emailing us, however, he mailed a letter stating whether or not Mike got the job.  Don't these people realize how impatient I am!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to read a book for enjoyment for the first time in almost a year this week.  It is amazing.  Being able to sit back and relax guilt free without thinking, "I should be studying."  It's been nice. Also, the house is semi-clean.  It's not a total disaster and I've been able to keep up with the dishes.  Laundry.  That's another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, its been awesome to be able to take some time to myself.  I can get back into posting, yoga, praying, etc.  I do look forward to next semester though!!  I'm really excited about next semester!  Creative Writing, Mythology, Photoshop.  It's bound to be interesting...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-8009016821745872594?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/8009016821745872594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=8009016821745872594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/8009016821745872594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/8009016821745872594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2007/12/enjoying-present-and-looking-forward-to.html' title='Enjoying the Present and Looking Forward to the Future'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-6943132677598756836</id><published>2007-12-10T06:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T07:04:09.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Can't Seem To Kick This</title><content type='html'>I know I promised to post more but for some reason I've gotten sick and I can't seem to get well.  It started with the flu moving smoothly and flawlessly through a sinus infection and landing square in the lap of strep throat.  As soon as I have finished finals and start to feel better you will see a marked increase in posting... that is if anyone still reads this thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-6943132677598756836?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/6943132677598756836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=6943132677598756836' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6943132677598756836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/6943132677598756836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2007/12/just-cant-seem-to-kick-this.html' title='Just Can&apos;t Seem To Kick This'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-3629880711092488302</id><published>2007-10-25T19:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T19:28:14.459-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How Very, Very Sneaky of Me</title><content type='html'>I've decided that posting here is a great way to put off things I really should be doing, like writing my report for Art History, working on my sculpture project or doing my collage.  Sitting here trying to gather my thoughts is so much more pleasant.  The best thing to do would be to get them done tonight so I can clean tomorrow but instead I'm here chilling out waiting for the girls to be ready for me to wash their hair.  I think they are too busy fighting over the soap.  One of these days they are going to have to start taking separate baths.  In fact, I don't think they'll be happy until they're in separate area codes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike works until midnight tonight so I think I'll go work on that collage... or maybe that giant stuffed book I'm making for sculpture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 more days until the best holiday of the year!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-3629880711092488302?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/3629880711092488302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=3629880711092488302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/3629880711092488302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/3629880711092488302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2007/10/how-very-very-sneaky-of-me.html' title='How Very, Very Sneaky of Me'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-928765460125130603</id><published>2007-10-24T07:24:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T07:24:45.055-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Son called 911 to report mom's driving</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Article Date 10/23/2007&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;                                                                             &lt;table class="jump" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt; &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr bg valign="top" style="color:#dddddd;"&gt; &lt;td align="left" width="90%"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;nobr&gt;United Press Int'l&lt;/nobr&gt; &lt;nobr&gt;| &lt;a href="http://www.infospace.com/_1_YV2TV803DSU4FO__cp.us/redirs_all.htm?pgtarg=hlt"&gt;Health News&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/nobr&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:130%;"&gt; Son called 911 to report mom's driving&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;VANCOUVER, Wash., Oct. 23 (UPI) -- A Vancouver, Wash., woman whose 8-year-old son phoned police because he was frightened by his mother's driving was charged with driving under the influence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;Paulette Lynn Spears pleaded innocent Monday to driving under the influence of intoxicants, fourth-degree assault and two counts of reckless endangerment, The Vancouver Columbian reported Tuesday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;The assault charge stems from allegations that she bit her son to hang up the phone while he was speaking with a 911 dispatcher, the newspaper said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;"I don't know if she knows where she's going," the boy told a dispatcher. "I'm 8 years old, and my sister is 5 years old and she's in the car, too."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;The boy made a second 911 call after his mother forced him to hang up the phone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;Clark County Deputy Prosecuting Attorney Erin Culver told the Columbian deputies that intercepted Spears' car said she had "red, watery eyes," a "blank stare" and an odor of alcohol. She refused a breath test but admitted to having "some beers."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;Spears could face one year in jail if convicted. She is due back in court Nov. 14, and bail was set at $10,000.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;Copyright 2007 by United Press International.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;"&gt;All rights reserved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-928765460125130603?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/928765460125130603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=928765460125130603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/928765460125130603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/928765460125130603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2007/10/son-called-911-to-report-moms-driving.html' title='Son called 911 to report mom&apos;s driving'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-280715426785878969</id><published>2007-10-23T17:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T18:11:20.781-06:00</updated><title type='text'>How Did I Do That?</title><content type='html'>Don't you love getting an A on a midterm you were sure you had flunked?  Here's to knowing the difference between ancient Greek and ancient Roman architecture!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-280715426785878969?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/280715426785878969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=280715426785878969' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/280715426785878969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/280715426785878969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2007/10/how-did-i-do-that.html' title='How Did I Do That?'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-5586988796179057471</id><published>2007-10-23T07:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T08:29:33.268-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'd Rather Be Doing Dishes.</title><content type='html'>You know you should not be posting when you look at the blank page and it's so overwhelming you actually wonder if you wouldn't rather be doing the dishes.  Then I began to wonder about the motive of posting.  I haven't posted in here in years and rarely on my diaryland page so why am I here now?  Is it merely because a long lost friend of mine has finally popped up on the radar and I want to fill her in on all the *shit* that has been happening in my life? &lt;br /&gt;I think that's a big part of it but I also think I have a lot to work out in my life.  I have so many questions that need answers, so many joys and victories to shout from the rooftops, so many shoulders that need to be cried on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trick is, do I have the time to keep up with it?  Do I have the discipline to keep up with it?  Will I post one big huge post about all that has happened in my life and then that will be it for another three years?  Would that necessarily be a bad thing?  Can't I write one post without inundating my readers with questions?  Probably not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm antsy for those dishes.  In fact I just got up with the intention of doing them.&lt;br /&gt;Here is the scoop:  That cute little baby down there?  That drooling-pooping-giggling-cooing little nuk-nuk muncher down there in the archive... She's three.  She's making trains and singing "If you're happy and you know it", she's potty trained and drinks out of a big girl cup.  That such a miraculous transformation has occurred from that little pea in a pod to this beautiful butterfly takes my breath away.  Before she was like a cute little figurine you set on your shelf and dusted lovingly.  Your friends ooed and aahed over it but you really couldn't do a whole lot with it.  Well, somewhere along the way I traded that figurine in for a go cart.  She joined her first circle this month at our first Pagan Pride Day.  It does a pagan mommy proud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of proud, my eldest recently set up his first altar.  He does pretty good with it too, barring the occasional psp game and who doesn't want to thank the Gods for video games?  He also recently received Silver Ravenwolf's Teen Witch from a friend.  How awesome is it that the pagan community thinks that my 9 year old is ready to be a teenage witch.  Too bad he thinks so too lol.  He loves paganism, anything with wheels on it, card games (pokemon and magic the gathering) and zebra cakes (another thing that brings proud tears to my eyes).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My elder girl is breathtaking.  She's grown into a lovely young lady who says please and thank you and shows everyone around here that she will put you first.  She is generous, caring and smart as a whip.  We are having her tested for ADD and Dyslexia soon however because she is having trouble reading but her math is 100%.  She told her teacher she is going to be an Etymologist when she grows up.  The teacher didn't know what that was so my daughter explained it.  How's that for proud moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, your faithful stay at home mommy... well you knew it wouldn't last forever, didn't you?  I went back to college.  I hate saying it.  Something about the way the word college sounds on my tongue and in my mind.  Makes me want to grind my teeth.  Anyway, I'm doing it.  I'm a second semester freshman with a dual major in graphic design and creative writing.  Again, are you seriously surprised?  My first semester I got a 4.0.  I'm now a crimson scholar.  Can I keep it up this semester?  Probably not, Art History 1 is killing my.  My first test earned a C and it was open book.  Yup I'm screwed.  Ah well, if attendance and a kick ass paper can pull my grade up it will.  If not I might not ever be a first semester sophomore.  Yeah I'm on financial aid probation.  Do go or we don't give you money to go to school anymore.  Thing is, they are still figuring in the F's I got in 1995!!  You'd think 4 A+s would void out for Fs but nope, I have to get at least 6 As to void them out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other news, I've started on my sleeves.  For those of you who don't comprende I'm talking about full length tattoos that start at my shoulder and go all the way to my wrists.  My left arm is done from wrist to elbow and my right arm is done from shoulder to elbow.  Left arm got butterflies, right arm got the most kick ass pagan montage you have ever seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, for those of you who don't know me, I haven' seen my biological father since I was my baby's age.  I was raised by my stepfather since I was one and thats the way I like it.  My sperm donor has never done anything for me and doesn't care about anything but himself and apparently even that has ended.  I got a phone call from my mother the other day with news that I either have to take an active interest in my real father's care or sign away my rights to make decisions in the future.  What a deliciously karmic decision to throw at me RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MID-TERMS!!!  I still haven't made a choice but I think the weight is swaying heavily in one direction.  Either sign away my rights and seem to be a cold uncaring bitch or keep the power and make decisions based on all the wrong things.  Goddess, I love your sense of humor sometimes.  I just wish it wasn't always pointed at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the record I had stopped drinking.  I hadn't had a drop of alcohol for 2 years.  Well, I've started up again.  I drink for three days every month.  Those of you who know what endometriosis is will understand why.  After struggling to find a pain pill that will ease the pain I discovered that if I have one glass of wine before bed the first three nights I'm good all day long pain wise.  It's amazing!  Vicoden didn't work, Hydrocodon didn't work, prescription grade Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen didn't work.  One glass of wine a night relaxes the cramps enough to help me the whole next day.  Yay for not having to take narcotics to get through the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, well the diary seems to have won over the dishes but it can't compete against a nice hot shower (its freezing here!) and a cup of hot cider so I'll catch you all later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs!&lt;br /&gt;Luna&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-5586988796179057471?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/5586988796179057471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=5586988796179057471' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5586988796179057471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/5586988796179057471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2007/10/id-rather-be-doing-dishes.html' title='I&apos;d Rather Be Doing Dishes.'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-111284239289749316</id><published>2005-04-06T20:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-04-06T20:53:12.896-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Photobucket</title><content type='html'>This is a test post from &lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/"&gt;Photobucket.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-111284239289749316?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/111284239289749316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=111284239289749316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/111284239289749316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/111284239289749316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2005/04/photobucket.html' title='Photobucket'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-110356589530743815</id><published>2004-12-18T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T11:04:55.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas is a'comin and the geese are getting fat...</title><content type='html'>9 days later and poor Ari is still sick.  Keira and I have caught this cold/ ear infection and we are both miserable.  It feels like it's been and endless cycle of sucking snot, doling out meds and fighting to put eye drops in.  She's miserable most days and I'm so concerned about her (and my own) that I don't sleep at night.  Luckily Michael has been home to help.  My ears and throat are so sore and I'm coughing all the time.  I worked today.  I'll be surprised if I work tomorow, though we need the money because Mike missed so much work when he was sick.&lt;br /&gt;My aunt, uncle and parents will be here for christmas next week.&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-110356589530743815?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/110356589530743815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=110356589530743815' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356589530743815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356589530743815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/12/christmas-is-acomin-and-geese-are.html' title='Christmas is a&apos;comin and the geese are getting fat...'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-110356558444322811</id><published>2004-12-09T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T10:59:44.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beat Goes On- Laa-dee laa-dee lee</title><content type='html'>Michael's been home all week and still doesn't feel better.  I can sense him getting worse and worse.  I feel bad for him, with chores and the holidays, I've had him running the entire time.  I'm gonna let him sleep in tomorrow, all day if he needs it.&lt;br /&gt;Arianna seems like she's getting worse as well.  She has huge circles under her eyes and she gets weepy and frustrated at the smallest thing.  We took her to the doctor today and, of course, she's allergic to the meds he put her on.  She broke out in hives.  We went to the headstart parent meeting today even though she missed two days of class.  I could feel the disapproving stares of the teachers and almost lost it when one of them said, "She doesn't &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;get&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; antlers because she wasn't in class when we made them."  I'm sorry if I think my daughter's health is more important than construction paper antlers.  Would it kill you to make a couple extra?&lt;br /&gt;Mike and the kids have been feeling so bad I let them open their solstice presents early.  The kids were so excited.  Not every four and six year olds get their own tv and dvd player.  Mike and I agreed a few big presents were easier in the long run than a bunch of small ones.&lt;br /&gt;Michael got me addicted to a video game called Legacy of Caine: Defiance.  We fight over who gets to play when.  I'm actually kind of keeping up with him.  I never thought I'd be good at anything but karaoke revolutions.&lt;br /&gt;Keira is wonderful, just turning three months she's giggling, cooing, smiling.  She likes to play peek-a-boo and suck her fingers.  She also has a really soft stuffed monkey she grabs when she's getting ready for sleep.  She's at the perfect age, when she looks up at you, recognizes you, and smiles, your heart melts  and you just can't help but stop and say hello.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-110356558444322811?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/110356558444322811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=110356558444322811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356558444322811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356558444322811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/12/beat-goes-on-laa-dee-laa-dee-lee.html' title='The Beat Goes On- Laa-dee laa-dee lee'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-110356408010378532</id><published>2004-12-07T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T10:46:25.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Three Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/179/1971/640/IM001490.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #660000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/179/1971/320/IM001490.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-110356408010378532?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/110356408010378532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=110356408010378532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356408010378532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356408010378532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/12/three-months.html' title='Three Months'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-110356479616381637</id><published>2004-12-06T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T10:46:36.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>'Tis The Season of Giving</title><content type='html'>It's that time of year again, when everyone has something and they all delight in giving it to someone else.  No, I'm not talking about the holidays, I'm talking about cold/flu season.  Arianna and Donovan have ear infections, Mike has something called a "viral throat infection" and Keira either had conjunctivitis or a clogged tear drainage canal.  I don't have anything yet or, if I do, I don't have time to realize it.  On Saturday I cleaned the living room, Ari's room and my own room.  Plus, I worked four hours at Hot Topic.  Sunday I got up at eight and did twenty loads of laundry, made lunch, worked for four and a half hours and started Donovan's room.&lt;br /&gt;Still, I guess it's better than the stomach virus.  I hate the smell that permeates the house and the way Ari and Donovan tremble when I hold them.  I think this is more painful, though.  What will I do if they give it to Keira?  How will I know?  The PA said it wasn't a contagious strain of ear infections but then how did Ari get it?&lt;br /&gt;Did I forget to mention that Donovan has a cyst behind the ear that isn't infected and the PA wants us to break it open every day so it can drain?&lt;br /&gt;I think the first level of hell is seeing your kids in pain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-110356479616381637?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/110356479616381637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=110356479616381637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356479616381637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356479616381637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/12/tis-season-of-giving.html' title='&apos;Tis The Season of Giving'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-110356197138250696</id><published>2004-11-28T09:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T09:59:31.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember What It Felt Like To Climb Into Your Ma's Lap?</title><content type='html'>I set up a website called Ma's Lap today.  It's short for Mothers Against Lazy Parenting.  It's one of the few things I feel strongly about.  The amount of parents who just don't even try to  be in their kid's life anymore.  I understand that some people need daycare to cover their workday.  I understand that not everyone can be a stay at home mom but when you don't bother to spend time with your kids when you are at home or if you forget you have kids.  That's what's causing todays troubles.  Know what your kids are doing, keep track of them, hang out with them and keep your eyes open.&lt;br /&gt;I could never forget mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-110356197138250696?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://maslap.diaryland.com' title='Remember What It Felt Like To Climb Into Your Ma&apos;s Lap?'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/110356197138250696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=110356197138250696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356197138250696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356197138250696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/11/remember-what-it-felt-like-to-climb.html' title='Remember What It Felt Like To Climb Into Your Ma&apos;s Lap?'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-110356163223563496</id><published>2004-11-28T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T09:53:52.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Finish Line</title><content type='html'>I can proudly say I finished the novel.  It's not completely done.  It needs several revisions and 50,000-100,000 more words but it's got a beginning, a middle, and an end.  Every plot point has at least a chapter and I got to my goal of 50,000.&lt;br /&gt;It makes me happy that something I've been working on for ten years is finally done.  It's a workable piece and, from the opinions I've gotten, a damn good piece.&lt;br /&gt;Keira seems to have broken down some kind of writer's black that the greasy grey put up.  Maybe, for once, I really am happy.  &lt;br /&gt;My inner cat purrs&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-110356163223563496?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/110356163223563496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=110356163223563496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356163223563496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356163223563496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/11/finish-line.html' title='The Finish Line'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-110356138006414404</id><published>2004-11-20T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-12-20T09:49:40.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Pains</title><content type='html'>I don't spend much time here anymore.  It's just easier to avoid my thoughts and go about my life.&lt;br /&gt;Keira is getting so big.  She's the love of my life.  I miss her so much on the days I work.  She's started to look at me and smile in a way that makes my heart melt.  It's so awesome that she actually sees and recognizes me.  She's started to coo a lot more, too.  The kids love her so much.&lt;br /&gt;Ari is experiencing some major growing pains.  She's pushing the limits of my parenting skills and becoming a close friend of dicipline.  I'm not sure if it's her age or that she's now going to headstart but something is giving her the idea that Mommy and Daddy aren't in charge anymore.  It makes me discouraged but at the same time I'm so proud she has that unbeatable spirit.&lt;br /&gt;Donovan is learning so much.  He's reading more and more, everyday.  I was letting him read Dick and Jane but now I think he's ready to move on, he reads things on windows, the TV and even knows what Mike and I are spelling when we don't want him to.&lt;br /&gt;As far as work goes, I love it.  The environment is perfect for me, a lot of my co-workers are parents and my age.  They all have the same interests as me and the same tastes.  I've yet to meet anyone rude or stuck-up.  I'm working with someone I went to high school with and it's nice because he never wants to get nostalgic but he acts like we were best friends when the truth is, I hardly knew him.&lt;br /&gt;He's the best: cool, friendly, outgoing, but he acts like we are long lost pals.  I'd love to feel like I'd regained an old friend but I haven't.&lt;br /&gt;Thanksgiving is right around the corner, where does the time go?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-110356138006414404?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/110356138006414404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=110356138006414404' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356138006414404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/110356138006414404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/11/growing-pains.html' title='Growing Pains'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109986461158801394</id><published>2004-11-07T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-07T14:56:51.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/179/1971/640/IM001474.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #660000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/179/1971/320/IM001474.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two Months&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109986461158801394?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109986461158801394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109986461158801394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109986461158801394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109986461158801394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/11/two-months.html' title=''/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109953354314503204</id><published>2004-11-03T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-03T18:59:03.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Holidays Are Chock Full Of Goodness</title><content type='html'>Man, what a long week this has been. I know the holidays are supposed to be busy but I think I over did it as usual. On Saturday we went to the farmer's market. It was a lot of fun but really cold. I met a girl that takes great photos and a wiccan that makes &lt;a href="http://www.moonlightingbodycare.com"&gt;soaps&lt;/a&gt; and stuff. They were both so great. We took the kids around to all the stalls and they got candy. One of the places had a great Day of the Dead Altar and I kicked myself for not taking my camera.&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday we went trick or treating twice, once at the mall and once around the neighborhood. The neighborhood was really dead and I was disappointed by how many people didn't hand out candy. It feels like the spirit of Halloween is as dead as the people it celebrates. After trick or treating we went to a Halloween party. It was very laid back, very cool. We sat around and talked.&lt;br /&gt;Monday we had a full turkey dinner in celebration of Samhain and Feast of the Dead. Pumpkin pie, cranberry, stuffing, mashed potatoes, the works. It was very cool.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we spent the afternoon in the ER because Keira had a strange cough that I was concerned about. They took xrays of her lungs but couldn't find anything wrong with her. I made an appointment at the pediatrician's on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;Last week we watched the eclipse. The kids seemed oblivious to it but Mike and I loved it.&lt;br /&gt;Also, on Monday I got the job at &lt;a href="http://www.hottopic.com"&gt;Hot Topic&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt;.  It's only minimum wage and limited hours but the discount rules.&lt;br /&gt;Finally I joined the &lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/"&gt;National Novel Writing Month&lt;/a&gt; website where I will be attempting to crunch out 40,000 words in one month.  That might finish my novel.  Those things are worth money...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109953354314503204?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109953354314503204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109953354314503204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109953354314503204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109953354314503204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/11/holidays-are-chock-full-of-goodness.html' title='Holidays Are Chock Full Of Goodness'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109882893879954313</id><published>2004-10-26T16:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-10-26T16:15:38.800-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Samhain Cometh</title><content type='html'>The fog came in last night like a living thing. One minute you could see and the next minute it blanketed the world. I remembered saying I would miss the fog when I left Philly and now, 3 years later I finally get it back. It's finally cold though only at night. It makes me happy: the chill air, the smell of woodsmoke, pumpkins, hay rides, and scarecrows.&lt;br /&gt;Keira is growing like a weed and now she only wakes me up twice a night. She's so beautiful, I'm excited for the time when she looks at me and actually sees me.&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand the little one I babysit for is driving me to distraction, crying all day for no reason. His mother restricts his food and wants me to give him juice instead of formula. I feel like I'm out of my league. I don't know how to tell her she needs to find someone else, though. And I hate to feel like a failure by quitting. On the other hand, if I wanted four kids, I'd get pregnant again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109882893879954313?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109882893879954313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109882893879954313' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109882893879954313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109882893879954313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/10/samhain-cometh.html' title='Samhain Cometh'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109725790574666887</id><published>2004-10-08T11:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-10-08T11:51:45.746-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Noon And The Direct Deposit Still Isn't In The Account</title><content type='html'>I will not flip out.  I will not flip out.  I will not flip out.  I will not flip out.  I will not flip out.  I will not flip out.  I will not flip out.  I will not flip out.  I will not flip out.  I will not flip out... I won't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109725790574666887?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109725790574666887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109725790574666887' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109725790574666887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109725790574666887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/10/its-noon-and-direct-deposit-still-isnt.html' title='It&apos;s Noon And The Direct Deposit Still Isn&apos;t In The Account'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109725072903376388</id><published>2004-10-08T09:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-10-08T09:52:09.033-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I Becoming A Stay At Home Mom Snob?</title><content type='html'>I have issues with moms who neglect their children for whatever reasons. Leave a diaper on for 15 hours, Stuff another bottle in his mouth, no bath for a week, no clean clothes, neglecting medicine.&lt;br /&gt;It kills me that a woman can't take the three minutes it takes to provide your child with the same comforts you provide yourself. Why do people like that have children? Why do... &lt;strong&gt;How&lt;/strong&gt; do mothers ignore their children until they've become some fat little snivelling day care monster that will only eat sugary fruits and sucks down formula like it's running out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109725072903376388?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109725072903376388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109725072903376388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109725072903376388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109725072903376388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/10/am-i-becoming-stay-at-home-mom-snob.html' title='Am I Becoming A Stay At Home Mom Snob?'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109717586372034161</id><published>2004-10-07T13:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-10-07T13:05:27.143-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/179/1971/640/IM001380.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 1px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 1px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/179/1971/320/IM001380.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmmmm Yummy &lt;a href="http://www.hello.com/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" alt="Posted by Hello" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif" align="absMiddle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109717586372034161?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109717586372034161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109717586372034161' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109717586372034161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109717586372034161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/10/one-month.html' title='One Month'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109692503629564621</id><published>2004-10-04T15:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-10-04T15:23:56.296-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Well Ain't That Just The Pot Calling The Kettle A Glutton For Punishment</title><content type='html'>There's something evil about sweating your ass off in October. I knew I was asking for it when i moved back but this is ridiculous. How is one supposed to be a goth witch when it's 85 degrees outside?&lt;br /&gt;I put in an application at &lt;a href="http://www.hottopic.com"&gt;Hot Topic&lt;/a&gt; to work weekends. The manager seemed impressed with my application. The girl I talked to said I was a shoo-in. That was Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;Today I volunteered to baby sit an 8 month old Monday-Friday. I'm not sure yet but I think I'm getting in over my head. The money should start pouring in but is it really worth 4 kids, a husband and a job?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109692503629564621?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109692503629564621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109692503629564621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109692503629564621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109692503629564621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/10/well-aint-that-just-pot-calling-kettle.html' title='Well Ain&apos;t That Just The Pot Calling The Kettle A Glutton For Punishment'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109657013473081530</id><published>2004-09-30T13:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-30T12:48:54.730-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tempest Smith, Old News Still in the Hearts of Wiccans</title><content type='html'>I came across &lt;a href="http://www.blessedbee.com/_discuss/00000121.htm"&gt;this link&lt;/a&gt; on my pagan parenting board. Tempest Smith's suicide will determine a great many things in the up coming years one of which will be pagan parents choice on whether or not to raise their children on a pagan path.&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't change my mind. My kids will still be raised on a pagan path until they're old enough to make their own decision but I know there will be a big difference between my kids and Tempest Smith, I'll be there for my kids if they ever get bullied. They will have someone to talk to and they won't ever have to hide their feelings from me.&lt;br /&gt;They won't ever have to hide anything...&lt;br /&gt;Least of all their pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109657013473081530?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109657013473081530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109657013473081530' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109657013473081530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109657013473081530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/tempest-smith-old-news-still-in-hearts.html' title='Tempest Smith, Old News Still in the Hearts of Wiccans'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109666096822827860</id><published>2004-09-28T13:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-10-01T14:02:48.226-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Shame On You Victoria Gotti</title><content type='html'>I realized early this morning that I may be the last of a great generation. Victoria Gotti has her own reality TV series and I realized, watching her fly across the screen in her big boobed way, with her hair gel freak sons that no one younger than me is going to know who John Gotti was. What a giant he was or how much he probably rolls in his grave at what Victoria has turned the family into.&lt;br /&gt;This great mafia godfather would probably be training the Gotti boys to run the "business" and instead she's got them fighting over hair gel on national TV. Oh how the mighty have fallen, good thing their hair never will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109666096822827860?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109666096822827860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109666096822827860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109666096822827860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109666096822827860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/shame-on-you-victoria-gotti.html' title='Shame On You Victoria Gotti'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109605350486881509</id><published>2004-09-23T13:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T13:18:24.870-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mastitis</title><content type='html'>I woke up this morning with a horrible case of mastitis in my left breast. Flu like symptoms including a really high fever and sharp shooting pains in my head. The pain in my breast is nothing compared to the pain in my head, it's like an ice pick.&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Deb gave me antibiotics and promised it would go away in twenty four hours.&lt;br /&gt;My mom called later on and asked if she could come back for a couple more days. I told her no. I was honest and told her I didn't think it was fair that I had to take care of three kids, on a newborn and her. I know she was hurt and I felt guilty but I have to keep my sanity. I can't afford to hate her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109605350486881509?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.askdrsears.com/html/2/T022200.asp' title='Mastitis'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109605350486881509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109605350486881509' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605350486881509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605350486881509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/mastitis.html' title='Mastitis'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109605313764301985</id><published>2004-09-22T13:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T13:12:17.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wiccaning</title><content type='html'>It was quick and furtive, not like the grand rituals you see on TV but quiet. Just Mike, Keira, and I on a dark city street. I said a quick prayer and marked a pentacle on her forehead before passing her through the arms of the tree that the kids and I had picked out months ago. The kids have dubbed it, "Our Beautiful Tree". A scrappy little mulberry with mistletoe growing on it. The tree always has the coolest shade. So, it was there that my youngest was given her temporary magickal name until she comes of age.&lt;br /&gt;I almost cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109605313764301985?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109605313764301985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109605313764301985' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605313764301985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605313764301985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/wiccaning.html' title='The Wiccaning'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109605278716303925</id><published>2004-09-22T13:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T13:06:27.170-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ain't No Cure For The Summertime Blues</title><content type='html'>I wish I knew what was bothering Donovan. He's been so quiet the last two days and though I've asked him on several occasions he insists that nothings wrong. I would like to bring back that happy go lucky kid, trade him in for the quiet introspective one who prefers to stare out the window at the rising sun than to play cars.&lt;br /&gt;He's got a deeply old spiritual soul and I knew one day I would see the proof positive of it but he still has so much little kid time, I hope he doesn't give any of that up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109605278716303925?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109605278716303925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109605278716303925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605278716303925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605278716303925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/aint-no-cure-for-summertime-blues.html' title='Ain&apos;t No Cure For The Summertime Blues'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109605255107003120</id><published>2004-09-21T13:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T13:02:31.070-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Company is Like Fish, It Goes Bad After Two Days</title><content type='html'>My mother's welcome is wearing thin. There's only so much of her adult baby act I can take. She's spoiled, plain and simple. Won't eat her apple unless it's peeled a certain way, won't eat dinner until she's had a popsicle. It interferes with my life and with the rules I've set down for my children. I have final proof that I'm the adult in the relationship. How my father has made it this long is beyond me. I can't help but wonder what I will say next time she asks for an extended visit. Chances are pretty good that it won't be a quick yes like this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109605255107003120?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109605255107003120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109605255107003120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605255107003120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605255107003120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/company-is-like-fish-it-goes-bad-after.html' title='Company is Like Fish, It Goes Bad After Two Days'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109605227467125537</id><published>2004-09-20T13:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T12:57:54.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall Comes Creeping</title><content type='html'>It was really cool today, as if fall was reaching out with delicate tendrils to test our willingness to succum- to give up the long hard summer.  The drought is causing the leaves to turn yellow and fall, another mockery of fall that should never be, but will be followed by evermore 90+ degree days.  I long for the cool fall evenings, the smell of burning leaves in the air and the day light savings mornings with frost on the window.&lt;br /&gt;I got a beautiful autumn orange sweater for my birthday and now I long for a reason to wear it.  I can't wait for the peace of a day unhindered by the hum of fan or air conditioner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109605227467125537?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109605227467125537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109605227467125537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605227467125537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605227467125537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/fall-comes-creeping.html' title='Fall Comes Creeping'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109605201751450075</id><published>2004-09-19T13:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T12:53:37.513-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to Meeee!!!!</title><content type='html'>I'm 28 years old today.  I"m in a good space for a 28 year old; three beautiful kids, a happy marriage.  I can do anything I want now, finish my novel, go back to school, get a job or stay at home with Keira.  I don't have any regrets.  I don't have any of the usual creeping-up-on-thirty-wish-I'd-dones.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to treat myself to a belly button peircing as a belated birthday present.  Less as a last hurrah than it would seem.  I don't feel old.  I"m not gonna act old.  I"m not going to panic and run around acting like a 28 year old trying to be 19.  I'm just going to act like a 28 year old having fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109605201751450075?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109605201751450075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109605201751450075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605201751450075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605201751450075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/happy-birthday-to-meeee.html' title='Happy Birthday to Meeee!!!!'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109605164375857847</id><published>2004-09-18T13:31:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T12:47:23.760-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All The Nuts Roll Down Hill</title><content type='html'>My mom's coming to spend a week with us.  I know by the time she leaves I"ll be crazy but for now I'm looking forward to it.  She's coming to get away from the delusions that someone is living in their upstairs bedroom.  She swears my father is having an affair with that someone.  She'd called this woman's husband and called the police on her.  The other day she finally asked me to find a psychiatrist for her.  At least she'd getting to the point where she realizes she's crazy.  I know it must be painful for her to admit it to herself.  It's painful for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109605164375857847?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109605164375857847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109605164375857847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605164375857847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605164375857847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/all-nuts-roll-down-hill.html' title='All The Nuts Roll Down Hill'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109605070257511421</id><published>2004-09-16T13:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T12:31:42.576-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Over the Shock</title><content type='html'>I feel detatched somehow.   Like I'm just going through the motions of life and any day now life will get back to "normal".  Maybe its me not getting enough sleep or maybe it's the onslaught of a cold or post-partum deppression.  Either way, most of the time I feel like I'm just dreaming.  I have no interest in TV or internet, no interest in reading or going out of anything else.  I'm not unhappy thought.  I'm just content to sit for hours and hold the baby.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I watch the weather channel just so it will lull me to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109605070257511421?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109605070257511421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109605070257511421' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605070257511421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109605070257511421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/getting-over-shock.html' title='Getting Over the Shock'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109514200027190868</id><published>2004-09-13T23:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-14T00:06:40.270-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures of the Yellow Keira-Bean</title><content type='html'>Today was &lt;a href="http://www.growingfamily.com/webnursery/babypage_view.asp?URLID=7M9C7G1I5Q"&gt;Keira's&lt;/a&gt; one weeks check-up and the doc was a little concerned with her jaundice. We went to the lab to get her bilirubins drawn and they were at a 16. For levels of 15 and higher they suggest phototherapy treatment. 18 or more and they baby gets put into the hospital. So, Keira is sleeping in a bright teal phototherapy blanket. She looks like a little glow worm. The blanket is called a "Wallaby Blanket" but we've taken to calling everyone and everything involved "Billy." She'll stay wrapped for three days and they'll recheck her levels everyday. My daughter's poor feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109514200027190868?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109514200027190868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109514200027190868' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109514200027190868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109514200027190868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/adventures-of-yellow-keira-bean.html' title='Adventures of the Yellow Keira-Bean'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109492899450320357</id><published>2004-09-11T13:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-11T12:56:34.503-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Most Excruciating Pain Ever</title><content type='html'>My breasts are killing me. It makes me realize why I usually end up bottle feeding. I get to the point where I can't take the pain anymore then give the kid a bottle of formula to give my breasts "a break". Then I"m producing less milk and breast feeding is hurting more. One bottle becomes two becomes three. "It hurts to breast feed, why bother?" or "At least I held out for the first few days." Well, this time I'm in it for the long haul. I can stand child birth then I can hack the breastfeeding... Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109492899450320357?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109492899450320357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109492899450320357' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109492899450320357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109492899450320357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/most-excruciating-pain-ever.html' title='The Most Excruciating Pain Ever'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109492806202380694</id><published>2004-09-10T13:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-11T12:41:02.023-06:00</updated><title type='text'>And Then The Guilt Sets In</title><content type='html'>I feel guilty for not being able to help out around the house. Mike says I've just had a baby but my brain says the only pain I'm really feeling is regular old period cramps and a sore belly button.&lt;br /&gt;I still get tired really easily.&lt;br /&gt;I still stay up all night with Keira.&lt;br /&gt;And I still feel really guilty about not being able to help.&lt;br /&gt;Keira was a dream all day. I know it means I'll be up all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109492806202380694?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109492806202380694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109492806202380694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109492806202380694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109492806202380694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/and-then-guilt-sets-in.html' title='And Then The Guilt Sets In'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109492784443962770</id><published>2004-09-10T13:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-11T12:37:24.440-06:00</updated><title type='text'>First Night Home</title><content type='html'>Last night was a tough night. We didn't sleep at all because Keira had a tummy ache we couldn't get rid of. Trying to sleep between sessions of feeding and crying was too much work so I stayed up. We are napping on and off today but I'm afraid it's ruining any chance we may have had at a sleep schedule. In the end I had to chose and sleep just seemed more important at the time.&lt;br /&gt;My cramping is still bad and I'm popping Tylenol so often I'll have an ulcer by her first birthday but both the sciatica and joint pain are both mysteriously gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109492784443962770?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109492784443962770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109492784443962770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109492784443962770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109492784443962770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/first-night-home.html' title='First Night Home'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109492750951826244</id><published>2004-09-09T11:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-11T12:31:49.520-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Then My Water Broke</title><content type='html'>Two days ago- at about 7:20pm my water broke. I'd just gotten done reading with Donovan and stood up to get everyone ready for dinner when it broke. Mike didn't believe me, thought I was testing him. We called the midwife and were on our way. There was a little scramble to find care for the kids but then we were able to just sit back and enjoy labor. I dilated and effaced quickly and the midwife was very attentive, rubbing my back and asking questions. It was totally different from all my other experiences. I decided to try sitting in the tub to alleviate some of the pain. I had two contractions in the water before I decided I couldn't wait. We called the midwife back in and two more contractions later, less than five minutes, Keira Makenzie was on my belly and Mike was cutting the cord. We never did make it out of the bath but it was so awesome. It's the birthing experience every woman should have. The midwife stuck around and showed me the umbilical cord and the placenta and answered my questions. Then I got to feed Keira. She was so perfect, so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;That night Keira slept through the night and the next day I was awakened from a sound sleep by my surgical team ready to take me to my tubal ligation. They asked me a couple of questions then gave me a drug that made me forget everything.&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up I couldn't feel my legs. After the spinal didn't work they apparently put me under general anesthesia. Afterwards they followed that up with two doses of morphine and a motrin. The pain then became bearable. Keira had her first pictures taken and we had a good night of feeding.&lt;br /&gt;Today we were discharged and got to come home. Our diet and meal schedules are off and because I was stubborn and went grocery shopping with the family my belly is cramping but we are adjusting well to being home. The kids love her and spend a lot of their time kissing and hugging her. Michael can't get enough of her and I'm just glad she'd finally in my arms.&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully next week we will get back on schedule and things will get easier. So,&lt;br /&gt;Keira Makenzie Block&lt;br /&gt;Born 9/7/04 9:44 pm&lt;br /&gt;6lbs 10oz 19 in long&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109492750951826244?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109492750951826244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109492750951826244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109492750951826244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109492750951826244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/then-my-water-broke.html' title='Then My Water Broke'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109449972317493302</id><published>2004-09-06T13:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-06T13:42:03.173-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Witch Capital of the World</title><content type='html'>Sometimes someone will say something and it will get in your head and curl up and whisper things to you until it is suddenly a good idea. Then you obsess over it until it becomes a great idea. As time goes by it becomes so important it's all you've ever wanted and the only thing that can make you happy.&lt;br /&gt;Last night Mike suggested we move to Salem Mass. We checked out population and weather, home prices and schools and now it's stuck in my head as a good idea.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'd like Salem. It's near the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109449972317493302?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109449972317493302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109449972317493302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109449972317493302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109449972317493302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/witch-capital-of-world.html' title='Witch Capital of the World'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109443481722918266</id><published>2004-09-05T19:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-05T19:40:17.230-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Magical Belly Rub</title><content type='html'>The biggest thing I'll miss about being pregnant is the random kisses, pats and hugs my belly gets. Donovan stops me and gives me little kisses and Ari smoothes lotion on my belly and sings Keira songs. Mike will hold his breath and look at my shirt expectantly until I expose my belly and then he will cuddle up to it and kiss it and tell Keira how much he loves her. Even though I know the love is being sent to her it still makes me happy. It makes me feel special. I'll miss the extra touching that brings me closer to all of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109443481722918266?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109443481722918266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109443481722918266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109443481722918266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109443481722918266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/magical-belly-rub.html' title='Magical Belly Rub'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109433470033063009</id><published>2004-09-04T15:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-04T15:51:40.330-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Finish Line</title><content type='html'>My midwife wasn't much of a help. I haven't dilated any more and I'm not sure how much time I have. She says I could go tonight or I could have weeks left. The only thing she knew for sure is that I won't make it to my due date. Well duh! I could have told you that. We got the truth though- If the baby is born this weekend she will be perfectly all right and with my rapidly growing fundus she may be huge. My biggest issue is getting over this constant exhaustion and weakness. That and I can't wait to have her in my arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109433470033063009?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109433470033063009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109433470033063009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109433470033063009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109433470033063009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/finish-line.html' title='The Finish Line'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109433375018089736</id><published>2004-09-04T15:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-04T15:35:50.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Peace Of Wild Things</title><content type='html'>When despair grows in me&lt;br /&gt;and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound&lt;br /&gt;in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,&lt;br /&gt;I go and lie down where the wood drake&lt;br /&gt;rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.&lt;br /&gt;I come into the peace of wild things&lt;br /&gt;who do not tax their lives with forethought&lt;br /&gt;of grief. I come into the presence of still water.&lt;br /&gt;And I feel above me the day-blind stars&lt;br /&gt;waiting for their light. For a time&lt;br /&gt;I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.&lt;br /&gt;-Wendell Berry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109433375018089736?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109433375018089736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109433375018089736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109433375018089736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109433375018089736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/peace-of-wild-things.html' title='The Peace Of Wild Things'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109431890295794212</id><published>2004-09-03T11:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-04T11:28:22.956-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Confidences</title><content type='html'>180lbs&lt;br /&gt;38cm fundus&lt;br /&gt;I had major cramping again last night. We had an open house at Donovan's school and thought that I could make it home on foot. The cramps were excruciating- so bad that I couldn't get my feet to move.&lt;br /&gt;I have been sucking down water like it's out of style but they don't seem to be hydration related anymore. Today I have a midwife appt. I hope she'll be able to tell me if I'm dilated any more. At least I know if I'm two or three cm dilated I'll be going sooner rather than later.&lt;br /&gt;I finally told my brother today that I thought he was the lucky one to have lost his mother early to hep c as opposed to the slow torture I'm going through. Mom called last night to tell me she has ten years left to live though I know next week it will be back down to "anytime now". I'm not sure we (dad and I) can handle 10 years of senility. We are having a hard enough time now and I'm not sure watching someone you love go mad is something you get used to. My brother says when her time does come I'll be thankful for the extra time I got to spend with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109431890295794212?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109431890295794212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109431890295794212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109431890295794212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109431890295794212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/family-confidences.html' title='Family Confidences'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109414235061471341</id><published>2004-09-02T10:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-02T10:30:55.630-06:00</updated><title type='text'>False Alarm</title><content type='html'>Last night we went out to dinner and I started cramping.  I may have had some spotting but I"m not sure.  I've been waiting for my water to break since then.  Mike doesn't think it was spotting and he doesn't think I'm ready to go into labor.  I think he's probably right sine the fetal movement is still active and I haven't smelled the smell I experienced when my water broke with Ari and Donovan.  This week is dragging by.  Fridays used to fly by and now I'm not sure if I can make it to the next one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109414235061471341?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109414235061471341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109414235061471341' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109414235061471341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109414235061471341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/false-alarm.html' title='False Alarm'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109414193824335658</id><published>2004-09-01T10:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-02T10:29:00.266-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Twins</title><content type='html'>Today was Ari's first full half day of school. She loved it. I enjoyed the time alone as well.&lt;br /&gt;Donovan's already got another tooth growing to replace the one he lost and one to replace the one he hasn't lost yet. He's is turning out to be such a fine man.&lt;br /&gt;I just found out that a &lt;a href="http://voirdire.blogspot.com"&gt;friend of mine&lt;/a&gt; is having twins. I'm so thrilled for her. She has waited so long for this and now she'll be doubly blessed. I'm not surprised she's having twins though- I've heard fertility drugs will do that to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109414193824335658?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109414193824335658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109414193824335658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109414193824335658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109414193824335658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/09/twins.html' title='Twins'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109408233001058726</id><published>2004-08-30T17:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T17:45:30.010-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Day of the Rest of Her Life</title><content type='html'>Giving up Ari to school was harder than I thought. I cried and cried. She was so smart and well behaved. I know she is more than ready for this experience and will be learning things that Donovan learned in kindergarten. Does that mean in kinder she will be at first grade level? I kind of expected to have Keira to keep me company by the time Ari went to school. Now I know that I'll have to say goodbye sooner than I'm prepared to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109408233001058726?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109408233001058726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109408233001058726' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408233001058726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408233001058726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/first-day-of-rest-of-her-life.html' title='The First Day of the Rest of Her Life'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109408215724610159</id><published>2004-08-30T17:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T17:42:37.246-06:00</updated><title type='text'>They All Grow Up</title><content type='html'>The kids and I have started watching A Baby Story while we wait for our ride to school. The kids are very eager to see their new sister. I think I've come to a plateau where I want her to be here but I want her here on her own time. I want her to be healthy and well developed. The edgy need to have her in my arms has faded away a little and I'm content to keep her as long as possible. 5 weeks maximum- 2 weeks minimum. I can handle it.&lt;br /&gt;Today is Ari's first day of pre-school. I'm anxious about it but she is ready. She has been begging all morning for me to take her in early. Today she's only in for 1 1/2 hours but on Wednesday she goes for the full half day. She's so smart and so ready for socialization- I can't imagine she'll be one of those kids who cries once I leave. I'm not even sure she'll know I'm gone until I get back. Whatever will I do with my afternoons free? Thank the Goddess we got internet back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109408215724610159?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109408215724610159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109408215724610159' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408215724610159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408215724610159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/they-all-grow-up.html' title='They All Grow Up'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109408176478428796</id><published>2004-08-28T17:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T17:36:04.783-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mother the Nutball</title><content type='html'>My mom came by today and she seemed more crazed that ever. I was cranky because she bought me another stuffed animal instead of bottles and diapers like we need. We argued- or rather I snapped at her a couple times and then she lay down and pretended to sleep. It aggravates me that she's paranoid and while part of me knows she can't help it, some of me wonders. She is very suspicious of dad and very resentful of the rest of the family. I've pretty much had all I can take of it. I told her how I feel. She says she understands. Nothings changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109408176478428796?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109408176478428796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109408176478428796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408176478428796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408176478428796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/my-mother-nutball.html' title='My Mother the Nutball'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109408148875294881</id><published>2004-08-26T17:25:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T17:31:28.753-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tooth Faerie</title><content type='html'>178lbs&lt;br /&gt;fundus 36 cm&lt;br /&gt;Donovan lost his first tooth this morning. He was so excited. Mike wants the tooth faerie to do something special since it's his first. It should have broken my heart. I think I'm getting used to the whole letting go thing. Maybe it's just cause I have Keira to baby now.&lt;br /&gt;The midwife is adamant that I not deliver for 3 more weeks so I'm just hoping that Keira cooperates and also that the three weeks go by quickly. This weekend we get the stroller and car seat and next week we get the little odds and ends like nuk nuks and bottles. It's almost time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109408148875294881?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109408148875294881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109408148875294881' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408148875294881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408148875294881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/tooth-faerie.html' title='Tooth Faerie'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109408113772588041</id><published>2004-08-24T17:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T17:47:34.566-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures Of Your Life part 2</title><content type='html'>Just got back from the ultrasound and there seems to be plenty of liquid. I did find out that the ultrasound tech thinks my EDD is September 30- a full week sooner than the midwife thinks. That puts me at 34 weeks 5 days. Keira is already 5lbs 6oz and any fears I had about her not flourishing were completely unfounded. Her head diameter is already 9 centimeters. I'm so excited. Mike is positive she will be born early the sixth but I'm hoping to make it at least until the 9th or the 13th. I guess at 5lbs 6oz I can't really afford to have her too late in September.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109408113772588041?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109408113772588041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109408113772588041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408113772588041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408113772588041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/pictures-of-your-life-part-2.html' title='Pictures Of Your Life part 2'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109408063920950356</id><published>2004-08-24T17:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T17:17:19.210-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures of Your Life</title><content type='html'>Today we go in for my third and final ultrasound. They want to make sure since I'm already dilated I still have enough fluid for the baby to live in for 3 or 4 more weeks. I think if there isn't they will give me the drug to develop her lungs in the next 24 hours and then induce but I have misgivings about that. I've done so well with the other two I'd hate to have this one orchestrated. On the other hand, my hips, knees and back can take only so much before I give up. I feel, lately, as if I've been beaten liberally with a baseball bat and then thrown down a set of stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109408063920950356?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109408063920950356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109408063920950356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408063920950356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408063920950356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/pictures-of-your-life.html' title='Pictures of Your Life'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109408038469331734</id><published>2004-08-22T17:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T17:13:04.693-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Touch Myself</title><content type='html'>I think pregnancy is the perfect time to listen to the cues of your body. Every other day of our lives we hide the pain or ignore it with drugs but during pregnancy its important to revel in every cramp and spasm because they act as guide posts to your ever changing self. That's why I've always chosen natural birth. The pain tells you what to do, if something's wrong, if it's not time and so forth just like the quality of pain tells you things. It makes me wonder why women with short labors chose drugs- It's a good time to learn more about yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109408038469331734?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109408038469331734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109408038469331734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408038469331734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109408038469331734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/i-touch-myself.html' title='I Touch Myself'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109407344180522833</id><published>2004-08-20T15:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T15:17:21.806-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Another Case of Careful What You Wish For</title><content type='html'>My midwife did a pelvic exam because I told her I was cramping. I'm 1 centimeter dilated and my cervix is soft. They ordered another ultrasound and asked me back in a week. I know I wanted Keira here early but not until she's fully developed and ready to come out. She asked me to hold on for 3 more weeks and to cut down on my walking and exercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109407344180522833?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109407344180522833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109407344180522833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109407344180522833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109407344180522833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/just-another-case-of-careful-what-you.html' title='Just Another Case of Careful What You Wish For'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406968042576122</id><published>2004-08-19T14:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T14:14:40.426-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepy Nowhere Near Seattle</title><content type='html'>I try to tell myself I wouldn't sleep so much if I didn't need it. Everyday I feel so exhausted. I"m eating right and exercising, there's no sign of depression. I guess I must need it. Mike doesn't say anything other than "you're pregnant" like that explains it all but I don't remember being this tired during third trimester for Donovan and Ari.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I had an especially painful brackston-hicks contraction and it flashed through my head how bad labor is. I was afraid for a split second. It was over quickly but it has lingered with me. The truth is, above and beyond everything else I just want Keira in my arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406968042576122?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406968042576122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406968042576122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406968042576122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406968042576122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/sleepy-nowhere-near-seattle.html' title='Sleepy Nowhere Near Seattle'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406945328880532</id><published>2004-08-18T14:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T14:10:53.286-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Again</title><content type='html'>Supposedly 8 more weeks and boy have the weeks begun to drag since Donovan went back to school. The days fly by as quickly as ever but it's only Wednesday. All that's left is to buy the stroller and some odds and ends plus the $300 for the day of delivery. That can all be done relatively soon. September will be filled with trying to get Ari and Donovan to two separate schools. If all goes well we'll have "the money" by October and I'll be able to drive to pick them up.&lt;br /&gt;Of course, nothing ever goes the way it should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406945328880532?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406945328880532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406945328880532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406945328880532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406945328880532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/time-again.html' title='Time Again'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406915538466692</id><published>2004-08-17T14:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T14:05:55.386-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Keira Makenzie Block</title><content type='html'>Gossamer silk like spider's web&lt;br /&gt;A crown of curls around your head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fountain of youth in eyes of blue&lt;br /&gt;Sparkling deeper that any ocean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smears of rose dust on your cheeks&lt;br /&gt;To ward away the rain storms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And berry kissed lips smile at me&lt;br /&gt;But promise to tell no secrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must be a changeling babe&lt;br /&gt;a foundling from the forest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must be an errant spark&lt;br /&gt;escaped from sudden rainbows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must be a four leaf clover&lt;br /&gt;growing on a rocky cliff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must be a miracle&lt;br /&gt;a sweet and precious gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406915538466692?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406915538466692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406915538466692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406915538466692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406915538466692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/keira-makenzie-block.html' title='Keira Makenzie Block'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406889075325408</id><published>2004-08-17T13:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T14:01:30.753-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Post Party depression</title><content type='html'>Ever since the baby shower I feel very unable to deal with life's little stresses. The kids and cats both annoy me and I'm incapable of dealing with anything that I fail at. It's like the minute something goes wrong my whole life becomes a monumental effort. On Sunday I became hysterical over pancakes. Today I clogged the garbage disposal and lost complete interest in finishing dinner at all. I don't know but I think I over did it this weekend and I'm still paying for it. My emotions and ability to cope are linked with my exhaustion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406889075325408?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406889075325408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406889075325408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406889075325408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406889075325408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/post-party-depression.html' title='Post Party depression'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406868980966908</id><published>2004-08-15T13:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:58:09.810-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Shower Weekend</title><content type='html'>Two days ago I saw a ghost tiger cat. She was so contented and friendly it filled me with happiness. My friend Linda seemed to take it well, she didn't give me the evil eye or anything. We talked briefly about our experiences and our kid's experiences. I hadn't realized I'd told her our religious preferences and if we didn't it must be very obvious because she knew. It's cool, she seems pretty hippy to me anyway.&lt;br /&gt;We got new video games so we spent most of Friday devoted to them. There was a great raging storm that night that flooded the streets. Bolts of lightning one after the other pummelled the earth and cleansed the heat away. About 9:30 Elya and Melanie showed up. Saturday was spent shopping and prepping for the baby shower. The circus animal theme was subtle so I didn't mind. The turnout was low but the ones I really wanted to be there were and we had fun making the old fashioned shower games more progressive. Melanie brought a whole bag of door prizes which I ended up with most of and now Keira's crib area looks girlie unlike the blue Pooh stuff we had up before. At midnight we went to see Alien vs Predator and I feel hung over this morning. Too much of a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;Now the kids are driving me nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406868980966908?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406868980966908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406868980966908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406868980966908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406868980966908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/baby-shower-weekend.html' title='Baby Shower Weekend'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406812860002308</id><published>2004-08-11T13:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:48:48.600-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More Cramps</title><content type='html'>I cramped all night again last night. Part of me would love to dwell on it and worry but I'm not going to unless I start spotting or my water breaks.&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime I'll assume it has something to do with practice.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is the day that all the walking starts. I wonder what effect that will have on my due date.&lt;br /&gt;Today my mood and motivation sucks. I wish it were Friday. Hell, I wish it were September.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406812860002308?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406812860002308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406812860002308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406812860002308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406812860002308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/more-cramps.html' title='More Cramps'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406795105581181</id><published>2004-08-10T13:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:45:51.056-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Time is... Highly Annoying.</title><content type='html'>Sometimes the days seem to drag and sometimes, like today, I have to wonder what I've spent all my time doing. It's 8 and I've been up since six. I got a reasonable amount done but again, here it is 8 o clock and I'm not sure when the day whizzed past.&lt;br /&gt;Yet, at the same, Oct 8th seems so far away. I feel like I'll never get to Delivery Day. I'm so excited to have Keira it makes everything slow down to a crawl.&lt;br /&gt;Time is rushing and crawling at the same time and my days are filled with nothing. I wish I had the money to take up a hobby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406795105581181?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406795105581181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406795105581181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406795105581181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406795105581181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/time-is-highly-annoying.html' title='Time is... Highly Annoying.'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406679560474954</id><published>2004-08-08T13:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:26:35.603-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle Child</title><content type='html'>Dear Arianna,&lt;br /&gt;As it gets closer to the time for your sister to be born you become more of a center to my thoughts.  Now you are beautiful and happy, solid in the knowledge that your father and I love you like we could love no other.  There may come a day, however, when you are older and more sensitive to the fact that you are a middle child and you may wonder why we never took day after pictures of you when you were born, why there is no baby book or special plaques.  It isn't because we love you less, in fact, quite the opposite.  You are such a special, magickal part of my life that I spent all my time loveing and holding you and none of my time documenting your first days with us.  Your father was so in love with you that he cried all the way home from the hospital after you were born and I even wrote several poems about you.&lt;br /&gt;So as you grow older don't wonder that we love you less, just know that we love you just as much as we love Keira and Donovan.  You are no less important and fill no smaller space in our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;My love to you&lt;br /&gt;forever-&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406679560474954?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406679560474954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406679560474954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406679560474954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406679560474954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/middle-child.html' title='The Middle Child'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406643281018215</id><published>2004-08-08T13:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:20:32.810-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Pick Up The Receiver He'll Make You a Believer</title><content type='html'>Forgot to call my mom today.  I know one of these days she'll die and I'll be filled with guilt about not calling her but for now I just don't have the energy to invest in it.  She always requires so much emotion of me that I get sick and tired, literally, when she comes over.  I'm dreading my own baby shower because I know she will most likely be here.  It's supposed to be a nice day for me and I don't want it to be about her as everything else is.  I have plenty of time for guilt, the rest of my life, right now is about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406643281018215?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406643281018215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406643281018215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406643281018215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406643281018215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/just-pick-up-receiver-hell-make-you.html' title='Just Pick Up The Receiver He&apos;ll Make You a Believer'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406622693377078</id><published>2004-08-07T13:12:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:17:06.933-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Notice a Weight Trend?</title><content type='html'>31 weeks&lt;br /&gt;178lbs&lt;br /&gt;Everything has become ominous to me from my dreams to things people say.  The dreams disturb me the most.  I guess I always have to worry and dreaming is the least stressful way to do it.&lt;br /&gt;I still haven't gained any weight and now the baby isn't growing either.  The midwife says she may just be between growth spurts and wants to wait until 36 weeks before we schedule an ultrasound to check the baby's size.  If I'm right I'll have delivered by then anyway.  Keira moves frequently and is always a joful reminder.  We are considering changing her middle name to Makenzie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406622693377078?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406622693377078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406622693377078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406622693377078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406622693377078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/notice-weight-trend.html' title='Notice a Weight Trend?'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406594887232530</id><published>2004-08-03T13:08:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:12:28.873-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanted: A Semi-Sane Babysitter So I Can Drug Myself Up</title><content type='html'>Woke up this morning with a sore throat and an ear ache.  I know it's probably another sinus infection and I can take Benadryl for it but they make me so groggy that the kids could wreck the house and I would never know.  I wish I had someone to pawn them off on when I was sick.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday Donovan started trying to touch the bottom of the seven foot in the pool.  He was always under so long I would start to get up only to have him pop up again.  I guess it shows I wouldn't trust anyone else to watch them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406594887232530?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406594887232530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406594887232530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406594887232530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406594887232530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/wanted-semi-sane-babysitter-so-i-can.html' title='Wanted: A Semi-Sane Babysitter So I Can Drug Myself Up'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406571615925932</id><published>2004-08-02T13:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:08:36.160-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Scramble</title><content type='html'>I"m exhausted.  Mike and I just spent 3 days cleaning and running around getting ready for school and the baby shower next week.  Today we had to be done by 8:00 am because they are spraying for bugs.  I'll have to haul the cats over from our friend Mark's house when they are done.  I'm not looking forward to it.  My pregnancy calendar says 8 weeks left.  I can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406571615925932?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406571615925932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406571615925932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406571615925932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406571615925932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/08/scramble.html' title='The Scramble'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406537239846104</id><published>2004-07-29T12:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T13:02:52.396-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lord of the Frogs</title><content type='html'>Hutch took Mike and the kids out a couple of weeks ago to catch tadpoles.  As the tadpoles changed into frogs we moved them to a new container.  It was great for the kids because they got to experience, first hand, most of the stages of a frog's life cycle.  Well, the taddies were dirty and I had to change their water often- to many tads in such a small space and they smelled really bad so yesterday we took all the tadpoles and all but four of the frogs and released them into a local park with a huge pond.  I immediately saw a problem.  The frogs were used to spending their days on rocks we put in their bucket so as soon as we dumped them in the pond they all swam to the water's edge and jumped on the embankment.  We had raised them in shallow water with fixed perches.  We hung around trying to convince them the water was safer but I know the minute we walked away many of them were most likely scooped up by birds.  The guilt I felt was enormous and while Dave and Mike tried to convince me that survival instinct would kick in I still felt like I set them up for a massacre.  Last night I dreamed of tadpoles in dark black water all night.  In the dream all the frogs were gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406537239846104?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406537239846104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406537239846104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406537239846104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406537239846104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/07/lord-of-frogs.html' title='Lord of the Frogs'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406459093594843</id><published>2004-07-28T12:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T12:49:50.936-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Pains</title><content type='html'>The pain in my hips and tailbone have subsided.  For the most part I can sit and stand comfortably unless I've been still for two long.  I wonder how much of that has to do with the pool being closed.  It did seem worse after we'd been swimming.  Now I'm tender in my belly when Keira moves.  I hope I'm just dehydrated and that water makes it go away but if I'm still feeling it in a couple days I'll probably go to the midwife's office for a look-see.  I know it's not labor and so I can relax on that count- no spotting and the baby hasn't dropped- but I'm still concerned about what happened to Courtney.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406459093594843?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406459093594843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406459093594843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406459093594843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406459093594843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/07/baby-pains.html' title='Baby Pains'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406429382907926</id><published>2004-07-27T12:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T12:44:53.830-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Enabler or Facillitator</title><content type='html'>I wonder if we are facillitating our neighbor's ability to neglect their children.  A nonjudgemental friend is a nice thing if you are doing your best to live your life right but when their lack of judgement upon you leads you to a lazy or corruptive lifestyle is it partially their fault?  "The worst thing a man can do is nothing."  If I know a woman who would rather buy drugs than provide for her children and I don't say anything about how wrong it is am I basically saying her behavior is ok?  Am I justifying her attitude by remaining silent or should I just mind my own business?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406429382907926?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406429382907926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406429382907926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406429382907926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406429382907926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/07/enabler-or-facillitator.html' title='Enabler or Facillitator'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406282525597058</id><published>2004-07-26T12:15:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T12:20:25.273-06:00</updated><title type='text'>And Now For the Talent Portion of Our Show</title><content type='html'>Ari showed her interest today.  For days I've been talking to Mike about extra-curricular activities for the kids and while it was agreed that Donovan would enjoy soccer or tae kwan doe we couldn't imagine putting Ari in a dance class.  It just didn't seem her style.  We talked about gymnastics but the lifestyle of a gymnist isn't something we want for her. (ie: anorexia and stress to acheive)&lt;br /&gt;Well today she covered her hands and feet in stamp pad ink and did some of the most interesting art on some paper... the carpet... sinks, kitchen floor.  I think we've decided it will be art classes for Ari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406282525597058?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406282525597058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406282525597058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406282525597058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406282525597058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/07/and-now-for-talent-portion-of-our-show.html' title='And Now For the Talent Portion of Our Show'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736988.post-109406185935575055</id><published>2004-07-26T11:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-01T12:04:19.356-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanted: One Family Sized Clown Car</title><content type='html'>IT just hit me what a juggling act it's going to take to get two kids to two different schools 8 months pregnant with no car.  It's going to be a circus.  I'm not sure headstart is every day- it will be a blessing if it's only 2 or 3 days a week.  Still I'm not filled with the same tearful panic that usually haunts me- just a resigned fear that I will spend many of my days in stressed out tears.  Mike says we will find a way to make it work and I believe him.  I wish Milt's money would come through so it's not such an issue.&lt;br /&gt;This morning is cool and beautiful and the hummingbirds are out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6736988-109406185935575055?l=lunamama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/feeds/109406185935575055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6736988&amp;postID=109406185935575055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406185935575055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6736988/posts/default/109406185935575055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lunamama.blogspot.com/2004/07/wanted-one-family-sized-clown-car.html' title='Wanted: One Family Sized Clown Car'/><author><name>Chenoa Block</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18437397881326988291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uSEkm-SD8nU/SuOXmfUmQrI/AAAAAAAAACA/uPT7E5roWZk/S220/338TBK~22.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
