<?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-7786152350599878405</id><updated>2012-01-27T17:34:57.224-08:00</updated><title type='text'>tayzie's place</title><subtitle type='html'>This blogspot began when I took on the challenge of Library 2.0 in 2008 and was determined to broaden my knowlege of the internet and the links within.  The draw prize of a oaptop computer was pretty motivating too.  Now this site continues as amusing tales that my children have brought to my life and of course as a bragging mother, I wish to share them.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>121</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3838799588257220321</id><published>2011-05-25T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-25T12:04:30.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That Would be a Waste Because....</title><content type='html'>On one of our rare warm days, Mackenzie complained, "I'm sweating."  She had a "solution" as well.  "I'm going to pour my (lunch) milk over my head when I get home."  I started to explain that it would be a big waste because cows had to make that milk and the farmer had to gather it.  Taylor surprised me by continuing the milk process chain, "the farmer collects the milk with tubes, puts it in big cans, takes it to the factory where it the milk is treat it it so there are no germs in it to make you sick.  Then it is put in containers and taken to the grocery store.  So it would be a waste if you dumped it on your head."  - It's nice when I don't have to do all the lecturing.  Now, will Kenzie listen to her sister any better than me? Well, she didn't have any come back argument nor did she pour any milk over her head.  Likely spoiled her fun. - And I did tell them that some people drink raw milk without pasteurization.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3838799588257220321?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3838799588257220321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3838799588257220321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3838799588257220321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3838799588257220321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/05/that-would-be-waste-because.html' title='That Would be a Waste Because....'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-4095107052029470314</id><published>2011-05-07T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T06:47:05.947-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"You're Freaking Me Out"</title><content type='html'>The time came when we figured it was time to tell the girls that their fratenal grandma was ill (from cancer), was having surgery the following Friday (two surgeons, all day, on Friday the 13th) and likely wouldn't survive the surgery (with her heart problems, low immunity, collitis, etc.).  Plus it was believed to be secondary cancer.  Taylor took it in stride, "so she might die?  But we hope she won't. What do you mean she has cancer in her belly?  Where else is it?"  Mackenzie on the other hand replied in typical 6 year old form, "but who will take me to see the Newfoundland dog?" Then she got quiet and covered her ears, "Stop talking about it, you're freaking me out. I don't want to hear it." I know when she's ready she will ask questions.  Minutes later she came to me and said "we don't want people in our family to drop off.  We'd miss them because we love them."  Mackenzie is familiar with death.  She has had her fourth fish die this week.  They're class fish died a couple of weeks ago (it was hers as well).  Her teacher's dog died a couple of months ago.  And her classmate's mother died two months ago.  She knows about death, just not this close to home.  We hope and pray that she gets a chance to spend a week alone with her gandmother, without her family, as Taylor did when she was six years old.  A good woman like her should be around for a lot more years; someone who cares for others and loves her family more than anything in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-4095107052029470314?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/4095107052029470314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=4095107052029470314&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4095107052029470314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4095107052029470314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/05/youre-freaking-me-out.html' title='&quot;You&apos;re Freaking Me Out&quot;'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7543693890179765539</id><published>2011-05-07T06:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T06:11:30.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Tall Am I?</title><content type='html'>During Kenzie's swimming lessons, Taylor said they were learning how tall they were at school today.  She said I'm 136 feet tall.  No it's not feet.  I'm 136 kilometers tall.  Um, no that's not it either.  So I (Daddy) told her it was likely centimeters and she agreed. - Taylor's measurement units are obviously a product of her parents; feet and kilometers.  Isn't she a product of the metric system in centimeters, kilograms, and kilometers?  yet she speaks in feet, inches, pounds, and kilometers.  Influences...go figure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7543693890179765539?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7543693890179765539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7543693890179765539&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7543693890179765539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7543693890179765539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/05/how-tall-am-i.html' title='How Tall Am I?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8037307754213294788</id><published>2011-04-16T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T20:23:36.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Have The Voice</title><content type='html'>Last week, shile driving he girls and I to my work,  Mackenzie spoke up and said, "Mommy, you have a really good voice.And a good talking voice.  You should be on the radio."  I had to ask what she meant by that.  You have a good singing voice, you should have a cd because you have a good voice, you have a good voice for everything.  blush, blush.  "Thank you, Kenzie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a bit of a pause as I basked in the warmth of this complicment and Mackenzie continued to ponder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy, I think you should be on Canada's Worst Drivers."  There goes that bubble.  "I know you would be the first one to get your liscence back and you know stuff that people on the road don't know how to do.  And then you'd be a really good driver."  ah, that's better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taylor added her thoughts to this train of thought: "You would learn stuff on Canada's Worst Driver because they learn stuff that other people don't have to learn."  She has a point.  But I don't not want to be on tv.  "You aren't as bad as the people on the show.  They're scary to have on the road driving.  And you're a good driver."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, this is the stuff of conversations I need to remember; hense the recording of it here.  I wonder if these musings would be worthy of a book someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8037307754213294788?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8037307754213294788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8037307754213294788&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8037307754213294788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8037307754213294788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/04/you-have-voice.html' title='You Have The Voice'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7014608025885405839</id><published>2011-03-27T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-27T12:41:25.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's More Important?</title><content type='html'>I was dropping the girls off at school last week, right on time, no room for dilly dallying.  Taylor leaned forward from the back seat as she usually does, for a see-you-later kiss.  Mackenzie was not impressed for she couldn't access her backpack that was in the front seat.  "Mommy,"  she began, "What's more important, school or a kiss?"  I of course replied with, "a kiss of course, because it shows someone that you love them."  She didn't agree.  "You can get a kiss later."  "But, what if something happens to me or you and I don't get to see you later?"  "Mommy, school is more important."  Well, I'm glad I instilled the importance of school yet sad that she hasn't learned to value a good goodbye.  Well, at least when she's the one leaving.  When I'm leaving, it's another story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7014608025885405839?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7014608025885405839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7014608025885405839&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7014608025885405839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7014608025885405839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/03/whats-more-important.html' title='What&apos;s More Important?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2256231105177911795</id><published>2011-03-03T09:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T09:48:09.865-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gone in the blink of an eye</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie came home the other day with tragic news.  I wondered if&lt;br /&gt;she got the message correctly and if so, was there anything we could do?&lt;br /&gt;Mackenzie said that a classmate and friend's mother was killed in a car accident near the end of the spring break. Conversing with her teacher revealed it to be all too true. What horror for the boys, the dad.  We just saw them last&lt;br /&gt;week at the pool playing volleyball together.  The car accident that ended her life made it to the news and the local papers.  Before I knew it to be someone I have met, someone I kinda know, I saw the pictures and shuddered.  I can't imagine.  I don't know why such tragedies seem worse when I have some connection to the people&lt;br /&gt;involved.  I suppose people would never have a chance to recover and move on if we mourned all of life's tragedies.  Shocking just how fragile life is, and how life can change dramatically in a second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mackenzie didn't want to talk about it beyond telling her sister why Gabe wasn't in school for the week (and she misses him) and that they had made cards for him.  Taylor wanted to explore what it would all mean to the family and what such a loss might mean to other families.  Mackenzie asked us to stop talking about it.  I wonder how she and her classmates are taking it.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;There is an education fund set up for the boys thru the funeral home, &lt;br /&gt;J.Snow Funeral Home on Lacewood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2256231105177911795?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2256231105177911795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2256231105177911795&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2256231105177911795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2256231105177911795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/03/gone-in-blink-of-eye.html' title='Gone in the blink of an eye'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2601677154088001146</id><published>2011-02-03T18:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T18:18:57.018-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the Mouth of Babes</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wonder, and worry a tad, at what my children come up with.  On our drive to school, Mackenzie raised her voice and asked, "Mommy, can I have our house when you and Daddy are dead?"  I had to ask why.  "I don't know.  I like it."  But what about your other sisters?  Maybe you can by their part of the house from them.  But sure, you can have the house, if you still want it.  I suppose having a consistant home helps one to feel grounded.  Yet the girls have weigh the advantages from time to time of living closer to their school and friends.  Hey, why was she more concerned with getting the house than our dying?  Maybe having our cat and several fish die has made it understood to her that death is unavoidable.  Perhaps death isn't real to her yet.  Where do these questions come from, eh?  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2601677154088001146?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2601677154088001146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2601677154088001146&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2601677154088001146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2601677154088001146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/02/out-of-mouth-of-babes.html' title='Out of the Mouth of Babes'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-9146961195985988287</id><published>2011-02-03T18:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T18:13:47.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Me, Myself, and I</title><content type='html'>Last week when the girls and I were at home, storm-stayed on the girls' first no-school-due-to- snow day; they were getting restless beyond my patience.  Not atypical.  I had the brilliant idea to get them started making their Valentine's.  I was fortunate to have the items on hand already.  I set them to work with foam heats, ribbon, and stickers of various sizes, colours and sparkle.  Taylor sat down with her classroom photo to remember all the names.  Mackenzie handed me paper and pen to write down the names as she remembered them; boys column and girls column.  She knew there are 20 in her class.  She was ble to get all the names up to 19 by picturing the classroom and who sat where, as well as by following my suggestion of going through the alphabet.  But no way could she remember the last missing person.  They worked all afternoon, surprisingly, and made all 20 Valentine's in one sitting.  Once they were nearing the end Kenzie piped up, "Mommy, I know who I forgot.  Me!"  lol  Figures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-9146961195985988287?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/9146961195985988287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=9146961195985988287&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/9146961195985988287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/9146961195985988287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/02/me-myself-and-i.html' title='Me, Myself, and I'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8575377448843039389</id><published>2011-01-04T14:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T14:07:02.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Selective Vegetarian</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie hasn't been eating much lately.  She used to be the one who ate everything but now she's quite choosy.  I think she subsists mainly on chocolate milk; her comfort food.  The other day she didn't like what was on the menu.  Taylor asked her why she didn't want to eat pork or whatever meat was on the table, "it's good.  You used to eat it."  Mackenzie answered with," I know but I don't like to eat animals any more."  "But you like chicken nuggets, that's meat."  "I know but that's different."  Hmmm.  How so?  Oh, the logic (?) of children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8575377448843039389?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8575377448843039389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8575377448843039389&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8575377448843039389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8575377448843039389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2011/01/selective-vegetarian.html' title='Selective Vegetarian'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8071258132566603540</id><published>2010-12-22T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-22T19:41:13.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let It snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow</title><content type='html'>Taylor wasn't at all happy Tuesday morning when she opened the front door.  "It rained.  There's no snow.  I was hoping there would be snow to play in."  Later in the car she said she wished she could go to England so she could play in the snow.  Mackenzie piped up, "But we can't; we still owe money on the house."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8071258132566603540?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8071258132566603540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8071258132566603540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8071258132566603540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8071258132566603540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/12/let-it-snow-let-it-snow-let-it-snow.html' title='Let It snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2342725139162824944</id><published>2010-11-27T19:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T19:46:52.329-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When I grow up...</title><content type='html'>Taylor has revealed to me that when she grows up she wants to buy a house with a big yard with a fence.  Then she and her best friend, Samantha, are going to run a doggy daycare and grooming place.  And she is going to ride her bike wherever she can instead of driving a car so she won't pollute the environment.  I had to admire her dreaming big.  "It's good to have plans, Taylor.  But sometimes life changes them."  I only hope she is happy no matter where or what she is in her future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2342725139162824944?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2342725139162824944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2342725139162824944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2342725139162824944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2342725139162824944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/11/when-i-grow-up.html' title='When I grow up...'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6795876857444129215</id><published>2010-11-27T19:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T19:42:55.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy, Do You Like Christmas?</title><content type='html'>Once again, on our car ride, the girls came up with a line of conversation that surprised me where it went.  We were commenting on the Christmas lights that people have up.  Mackenzie piped up and asked me, "Mommy, do you like Christmas?"  After my "yes," she added, "I like Christmas too.  It's about love.  Loving people.  Like Valentine's Day.  And remembering people who have died."  Taylor contributed by saying Christmas is about giving to others.  Interesting what children see through their perceptions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6795876857444129215?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6795876857444129215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6795876857444129215&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6795876857444129215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6795876857444129215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/11/mommy-do-you-like-christmas.html' title='Mommy, Do You Like Christmas?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2179616716520047621</id><published>2010-11-13T21:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T21:23:07.815-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Throw It</title><content type='html'>The girls have come with me a few times to dog obedience class.  Leela's biggest challenge is to stay off of people and not jump up on them.  The instructor once told me to say it like I meant it, to throw it like a brick.  One day shortly after this, I arrived home and was trying to keep my dog from jumping up on me as she greeted me at the door.  Leela, off!  From the background, somewhere down the hall, I heard Mackenzie say, "Throw it like a brick."  Good to have them come with me at times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2179616716520047621?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2179616716520047621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2179616716520047621&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2179616716520047621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2179616716520047621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/11/throw-it.html' title='Throw It'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5480674037827489665</id><published>2010-08-19T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T20:02:21.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frenchy's verses Walmart</title><content type='html'>The beginning of each school year brings the purchasing of a few new clothes.  We had an errand to do at Walmart, Taylor had birthday money burning a hole in her pocket, and school supplies were on sale.  Kenzie asked if we could go to Frenchy's on the way back.  "I don't want new clothes from Walmart.  I want to go to Frenchy's."  I wonder if it's because she has always had her own sense of style, she can get more at Frenchy's, or she wants to be unique.  I may never know the answer to that one.  But I sure hopes she stops the "I-don't-have-any-shirts-to-wear-that-I-like" phase over soon.  I doubt it.  She is a fashionable female.  Unlike her mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5480674037827489665?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5480674037827489665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5480674037827489665&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5480674037827489665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5480674037827489665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/08/frenchys-verses-walmart.html' title='Frenchy&apos;s verses Walmart'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6910021420964149909</id><published>2010-08-19T19:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T19:56:20.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back To School Attitude</title><content type='html'>Alas, the end of summer approaches and I took the girls shopping for school supplies earlier in the week.  Mum babysat them while I went to work that evening.  Mum told me that Kenzie set right to work putting her name on all her stuff, taking her time and printing neatly or by using her personalized labels.  She also took her time packing them all into a large ziplock bag in which she placed a smaller ziplock bag with all her pencils.  Very tidy and organized.  Taylor after three years of school was more jaded and had to redo her name on a few things.  The next morning, Mackenzie asked the question while we were eating breakfast, "What are we doing today?"  "Going to summer camp."  Again, Kenzie asked, "no, what are we doing?"  Being puzzled, I asked, "what do you mean?"  "Are we going to school today?"   She was somewhat disappointed when I said, "no, not yet."  "Oh."  It's good to have her eager to begin school again since so often last year she didn't want to go to school, refused to leave the car, begged to stay home, and so on.  I think she misses her friends as all the play dates she tried to arrange didn't happen.  Are 6 year olds afraid of going to other houses for playdates or are the parents not ready to let them go?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6910021420964149909?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6910021420964149909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6910021420964149909&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6910021420964149909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6910021420964149909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/08/back-to-school-attitude.html' title='Back To School Attitude'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5419426210022812909</id><published>2010-07-17T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T10:00:25.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Special</title><content type='html'>One girls' night at my house, my friend was working away on her quilt and felt she had messed up.  Taylor asked her what was wrong as she had attentively been watching to unusual use of the ironing board.  She then told Jaime, "it's okay.  It will be extra special because it is made by you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5419426210022812909?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5419426210022812909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5419426210022812909&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5419426210022812909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5419426210022812909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-special.html' title='It&apos;s Special'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-4901058721289537431</id><published>2010-07-17T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T21:11:37.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Words My Children Know at an Age when I Didn't Know Such Words</title><content type='html'>The girls are constantly surprizing me with their vocabularly (especially 5 year old Mackenzie).  Here are the ones I can recall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;environment&lt;br /&gt;inappropriate&lt;br /&gt;penis/peanut&lt;br /&gt;vagina&lt;br /&gt;breasts/boobs&lt;br /&gt;responsible&lt;br /&gt;correct&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course the new technology terms such as:&lt;br /&gt;computer&lt;br /&gt;dvd&lt;br /&gt;remote control&lt;br /&gt;portable dvd player&lt;br /&gt;cell phone&lt;br /&gt;cordless phone&lt;br /&gt;satelite tv&lt;br /&gt;satelite radio (Kenzie wonders why I can't replay Mama Mia in my car like Daddy can)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will they say next?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-4901058721289537431?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/4901058721289537431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=4901058721289537431&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4901058721289537431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4901058721289537431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/07/words-my-children-know-at-age-when-i.html' title='Words My Children Know at an Age when I Didn&apos;t Know Such Words'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8841572610907430750</id><published>2010-06-28T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T08:39:20.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rock Star Hair</title><content type='html'>While showering at the campground last night, Mackenzie asked me why I had my hair cut short like a boy.  I told her it was easier to take care of; it dries faster, stays out of my face, and doesn't get tangled or messy as easily.  She paused and then said, "sometimes your have rock star hair with it all over the place."  :)  Touche.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8841572610907430750?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8841572610907430750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8841572610907430750&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8841572610907430750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8841572610907430750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/06/rock-star-hair.html' title='Rock Star Hair'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3712539718544710348</id><published>2010-06-28T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T08:33:57.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shake It</title><content type='html'>Last week while I was at work, my husband was getting the girls to  clean up some of their chaos.  Typically, they know where it goes for they can find items when they have been put away.  Howevver; also typically, those items are very rarely returned to their proper place. While they were cleaning Warren heard Taylor tell Kenzie, "Shake what your mother gave you!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3712539718544710348?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3712539718544710348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3712539718544710348&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3712539718544710348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3712539718544710348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/06/shake-it.html' title='Shake It'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5855744479413841055</id><published>2010-06-23T04:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T04:42:23.744-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Public Library Jungle Tree for Summer Reading Program</title><content type='html'>I know this tale isn't about one of my girls but it IS about children.  I have a great job and sometimes it really rocks!  This past weekend I had the opportunity and co-operating weather to construct and erect a paper tree to decorate for the Jungle themed summer reading program at the library this summer.  It was great fun to hang branches, vines, monkeys, etc.  I hope everyone enjoys the affect and that it last for nine weeks.  Have a great summer!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5855744479413841055?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5855744479413841055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5855744479413841055&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5855744479413841055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5855744479413841055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/06/public-library-jungle-tree-for-summer.html' title='Public Library Jungle Tree for Summer Reading Program'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3796843738116425111</id><published>2010-05-12T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T20:18:17.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To See What they Could See</title><content type='html'>One morning the raido hosts were discussing Steven Hawkings thinking that there is extraterrestial life out there and the danger of attracting their attention.  Taylor listened intently and then added that the universe is a big place so there likely is more life out there.  But I wonder, she added, why would they want to visit here?  Mackenzie, without missing a jump on my bed as she answered, piped up and said, "It's like the bear that went over the mountain; to see what he could see."  Ah, out of the minds of babes.  But there's actually a lot of sense to that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3796843738116425111?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3796843738116425111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3796843738116425111&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3796843738116425111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3796843738116425111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/05/to-see-what-they-could-see.html' title='To See What they Could See'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5281084979717540879</id><published>2010-03-27T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T08:14:48.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Creative Mind of a Child</title><content type='html'>Taylor and I were out biking the other day.  Being a more typical spring day, it was chilly and fingers were going numb in the breeze created by the speed of the bike.  Taylor and I discusses some things for me when I was a child and she labeled it a "dangerous time" since we didn't have car seats, bike or skating helmets, nor seat belts.  She then piped up that her thumbs were cold but not her fingers.  "I guess it's like penguins that stand together to keep warm.  My fingers are keeping each other warm."  Now if all of us could draw such connections amongst seemingly unrelated topics, what genius discoveries we might be able to make.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5281084979717540879?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5281084979717540879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5281084979717540879&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5281084979717540879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5281084979717540879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/03/creative-mind-of-child.html' title='The Creative Mind of a Child'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-9189487070750075463</id><published>2010-03-02T16:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T16:56:18.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Garages</title><content type='html'>While in the car, again, on the way to pick Taylor up at school, a Sick Mackenzie piped up and asked me from the back seat, "Mommy would you like two garages?"  She then went onto say that Daddy and I could each have one.  I could my stuff in one and DAddy could put his stuff in the other.  I said I'd like to have a shed to put bkikes in, the lawn mower, and the wheel barrow.  Then with some leap in logic, Mackenzie told me if I lived in one house, Daddy could live in the old house.  She also went on to ask if kids can stay with their mum or dad if they (parents) aren't living together any more.  I told her that kids can.  She said she'd like to stay with me and that she thought Taylor would too.  We had just finished watching Little Bear and Caillou on television; both two-parent families.  I had to ask Mackenzie, why was she asking me this?  Of course she said, "I don't know."  I asked if she had kids in her class who only one parent but I didn't get an answer.  I know Taylor has single-parent children in her class.  But how did this all begin from, "Mommy would you like to have two garages?"  Children are....shall I say, interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-9189487070750075463?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/9189487070750075463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=9189487070750075463&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/9189487070750075463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/9189487070750075463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/03/two-garages.html' title='Two Garages'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-1154831912404181746</id><published>2010-03-01T07:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-01T07:28:18.527-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Canada Rocks!</title><content type='html'>When I told the girls this morning that Canada won another gold last night and became the first country to win the most gold medals at the olympics, Kenzie's reply, with a fist in the air, was "CANADA DEFINATELY ROCKS!!!  :)  What an event to have been around for.  Wish we could have watched more of the events.  Go Canada!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-1154831912404181746?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/1154831912404181746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=1154831912404181746&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1154831912404181746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1154831912404181746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/03/canada-rocks.html' title='Canada Rocks!'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-9037468394699129939</id><published>2010-01-20T17:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T08:46:43.925-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Child of the Times</title><content type='html'>On occassion, Taylor has informed me that when she grows up that she is going to bike or walk everywhere because it is better for the environment and good exercise for her.  She has also revealed that she intends to have a house that is in the ground so that it will stay cooler in summer and warmer in winter; and that she will have plants growing on the roof and she will have two or three exits in case of a fire.  The girl is only seven.  I won't ask where she comes up with the stuff because we have discussed such things, especially while travelling by car (not bike or by foot).  But I am amazed at how she has remembered it, processed it, and added it all to her dreams of her future.  Wow!  When I was seven, I wasn't worried about getting enough exercise, keeping the environment healthy (what was that?), nor concerned about the temperature of my furture home (I put on or took off a sweater).  Interesting.  I wonder what her goals will be when she's old enough to drive and when she is old enought to have a home.  In the meantime, keep dreaming big!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weeks later, Mackenzie pops out of her bedroom already dressed for the day.  On closer inspection, she's wearing the same thing she had on the day before.  "Mommy, I'm helping the earth by wearing the clothes I wore yesterday."  I told her that does help because it doesn't make more laundry and use more water.  "Are you proud of me?"  "Yes."  I also had to mention that when I was little and wore clothes two days in a row that I got teased but that if clothes aren't sweaty or muddy or dirty in anyway, then one should be able to wear their clothes again.  I just wish she'd do what I'd asked and wear her pj's more than one night.  This is where the idea originated from.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-9037468394699129939?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/9037468394699129939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=9037468394699129939&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/9037468394699129939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/9037468394699129939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2010/01/child-of-times.html' title='A Child of the Times'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2075553065899039928</id><published>2009-12-03T06:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T06:29:21.133-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is Santa Real?</title><content type='html'>On Monday we took our puppy to visit with Santa and support (?) the SPCA by buying a photo with Santa.  The intention was to get a photo of Leela and Santa but the girls were added as well.  It was unfortunate that they weren't dressed for the occassion but dressed for everyday life in the personal taste clothing.  :)  This visit brought up the question, "Mommy, is Santa real?"  I sort of took the bailing out method and asked, "What do you think?"  Mackenzie's answer was, "he's someone ins a costume wearing a white beard."  Then with the desire to keep the innocent joy of belief in Santa alive, I responded, "Santa has a lot of helpers."  People who dress as Santa and visit with children and dogs.  People who watch and see if you are being good or not so good.  Taylor supported this way of thinking.  I also had to add that Santa helps people to learn about giving without expecting anything back.  Santa gives to a lot of people and might only get milk and cookies back.  Unfortunately, many people just learn to ask for more.  Over both Taylor and myself, Mackenzie kept saying, "but he's someone in a costume with a white beard!"  Ah, the "innocence" of children. Or should I say, one-way thinking, especially Kenzie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2075553065899039928?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2075553065899039928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2075553065899039928&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2075553065899039928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2075553065899039928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/12/is-santa-real.html' title='Is Santa Real?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3055974868883305854</id><published>2009-09-29T09:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T10:01:33.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Times Have Changed</title><content type='html'>On the drive home from school two weeks ago, Taylor pulled her paper creations out of her backpack and announced, "I made my own laptop and cell phone." I had to start laughing, and then of course, I had to explain myself. "Taylor, when I was seven there weren't laptop computers. Computers filled an entire room. We didn't have cell phones or only special people had them and they were big and bulky." Reminds me of the list Warren emailed me once, "100 things your children will never see." Our eldest child though, does know how to use a rotary phone and how to use a turn table. The both know what a record is as well; it's not a large cd (as was once thought by a grade two student). Is technology changing too fast? What about global warming? We progress with technology but not in ways to save our planet. Now I'm confused.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3055974868883305854?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3055974868883305854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3055974868883305854&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3055974868883305854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3055974868883305854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/09/times-have-changed.html' title='Times Have Changed'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8622300035375569824</id><published>2009-09-25T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T10:59:54.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Does Mackenzie Think of School?</title><content type='html'>The day before school began, Mackenzie amidst our back-to-school conversation, piped up, "Mommy, I don't start school tomorrow, do I?" "Yes, you do." "But I'm not five yet." I had to explain that she had to be five years old by the time her birthday was, 31 December. When it clicked, "yeah!" She was a happy camper. Waiting outside the school though was another matter. Not that she was unhappy to be going to school, but that it was cold outside and she was "freezing like a pop cycle" with her bare legs under her skirt. Three days later, she didn't want family time, she wanted time with just mummy and her. I didn't stop to think that she would miss our time home alone together. She is fine when she gets to school. Her teacher says she's doing well, that all the kids in her class this year are doing well. She also chatters on about her best-friend, Noel, who she wants to have sleep over but she keeps forgetting to pass our phone number on to. Still, every three days or so, "I want to stay home," or "I want to skip school today," or "I'm sick." She wants time with Mummy. I need to figure out now how to fit in a bath or some time with her one on one. Maybe bedtime story in her room without her sister? Hm mm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8622300035375569824?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8622300035375569824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8622300035375569824&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8622300035375569824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8622300035375569824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-does-mackenzie-think-of-school.html' title='What Does Mackenzie Think of School?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2240949031565354456</id><published>2009-09-25T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T10:44:05.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Do Babies Get Out?</title><content type='html'>Again, the conversations the girls and I have in the car are ... interesting. We got our new puppy and then the questions began. The girls started talking about the possibly of having our own puppies. So then they wanted to know how babies are made. - I kept it brief.- They wanted to know how to keep our puppy from having babies and why we had to. And they wanted to know how babies get out of their mummy's tummy. So... I told them that women have three holes. One for pee, one for poo, and one in between that the babies get out from and that mommies bleed from when they aren't going to have a baby. That brief explanation done, we moved on. Or so I thought. Girls night, I was hosting and my two girlfriends were over. Jaime's Spock birthday cake and the answer to how to babies get out combined in Mackenzie's mind. Mackenzie walked up to Jaime and informed her, "you know that boy on your cake? When you get married you will have five babies. Babies come out of a hole. Girls have three holes." Jamie looked at me wondering how to respond. I nodded, "that's right. We have three holes." I explained later to Jamie what the heck Mackenzie was talking about. And she relayed to story to her mother. Hard not to. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2240949031565354456?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2240949031565354456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2240949031565354456&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2240949031565354456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2240949031565354456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/09/how-do-babies-get-out.html' title='How Do Babies Get Out?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5338093725050076400</id><published>2009-09-03T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T12:58:20.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Critters</title><content type='html'>Early on Tuesday morning, I was taking Leela out for a pee and we startled a chipmunk on the front steps. The girls were upset that they couldn't see it when they trickled out of the house and peered under the steps trying to catch a glimpse. Later in the day we were walking up the steps and a grey, rope-like, un-identified object laying across the path. Mackenzie was beside Leela and me, and we were following Taylor. So, when I recognized the object as our perennial garden snake resident, Mackenzie was quite impressed. When telling Taylor of the snake she had just missed, she was disappointed and looked in the ornamental grass for signs of it. Mackenzie described the snake as brown with red spots, and was "really kewl!" Now what 4 1/2 and 7 year old GIRLS put chipmunks and snakes in the same gotta-see category? Mine!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5338093725050076400?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5338093725050076400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5338093725050076400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5338093725050076400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5338093725050076400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/09/critters.html' title='Critters'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-234408601052639808</id><published>2009-08-20T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T11:07:08.584-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story of Leela</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;What’s In a Name? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we decided we were getting a puppy we knew we needed a name. Warren took on the search for a name with far more enthusiasm than he did for our girls’ names. He sent out emails and phoned relatives looking for suggestions. Sarah, Marc and Sam had several suggestions such as Oreo, Fudge, Fran, Sam, and Riley (also one of my choices). In the end, we ignored all suggestions, especially Mackenzie’s suggestion of “Rainbow Star.” For some unknown reason, we thought we would be getting a male puppy. So we went about bouncing around male names. I suggested using character names from books or favorite television shows. Friends of mine had named their dog, “Khan,” from the Star Trek series. Warren came up with using the name, “Tiberius,” for the original Enterprise Star Ship captain, James “T” Kirk. We’d use, “Ti” for short. We loved it. Then we found out we could have our choice of two female pups. We had to begin name searching again. I wanted “Anita” from the Laurel K. Hamilton series I like to read. Anita is an assertive, loyal, protective, non-nonsense, vampire and bad guy hunter. I also suggested, “Ayla” from Jean Auel’s series. Ayla is strong, resourceful, nurturing, a fighter and a survivor. Mackenzie mispronounced the name as “Layla” which made me think of the character “Leela” in one of Warren’s favorite television shows, the animated program, “Futurama.” I thought it would be humorous to share this thought. Warren jumped on the name and sent out email to everyone that this was the name we had chosen and why. I researched the name thinking it would be great to have a name that reflected our puppy’s heritage and googled Spanish and Cuban names. The name “Leila” arouse and I could then live with the name, “Leela.” Besides, she’s the best character on the show and shares many of the same characteristics as “Anita” and “Ayla”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’s tough. She’s sexy. She even uses power tools. She’s Futurama’s Turanga Leela (aka “Leela”), and despite being a one-eyed cartoon mutant, &lt;br /&gt;she’s one of the most positive representations of women anywhere on television.&lt;br /&gt;http://scryberwitch.wordpress.com/2008/04/12/best-starship-captain-ever/ &lt;br /&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turanga_Leela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------&lt;br /&gt;One day after swimming at the Sackville Sports Stadium (without Daddy as he was home with breathing difficulties), the girls asked to visit the Pets Unlimited store in Sackville. We stopped in for a peer-at- the-animals event, patted some rabbits, looked at fish, same as usual... Then one of the staff members had two Havanese puppies out for people to pet. They were adorable! They looked like mini Ewoks, were enthusiastic, quiet, and put up with what the girls handed out. Not that I know dogs or breeds well, I had never heard of Havanese. After doing some research found out that the breed has only been recognized in the united States for ten years, so no wonder. We arrived back home and told Daddy about the puppies. He must like dogs better than he lets on for he asked, “Do you want to buy one?” Knowing he will ask hypothetical questions, I ignored the price tag of $1,500, and said, “yes.” “Well, go buy it.” was his response. I had to argue then that the store was closing, we don’t know the breed, and buying from pet stores is suppose to be a bad thing as it supports puppy mills. Surprisingly (for me) Warren began research with gusto. He found some websites with information on the breed and some breeders in Nova Scotia. The more we learned about the breed, the more we wanted one. Havanese are great with kids, assertive but not aggressive, are quiet, a toy breed but sturdier than most, social (“Velcro-dogs), and hypo allergic. Now we had to find a breeder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Choosing the Breeder&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warren’s research brought up a breeder, Bonnie, in Bridgewater, http://europeanhavanese.com/ that we were advised to stay away from and the pups were raised outside in kennels rather than inside the home. He also came across one near Bridgetown, Joanne, whose dog, Daisy, had a litter of three puppies. We went to visit after Taylor’s Sparks camp Sunday 24 May and fell in love with them.  Sarge was spoken for. Bonny was a sable and a sweetie. We were asked if we would like to have her if Joanne and her business partner decided not to keep her to breed. It was three weeks later, or more, when we learned that she wasn’t available. However, there would likely be another litter in the fall. We put our names on the waiting list. Warren found another breeder in New Waterford, Cape Breton, Linda, at Kamolot Kennels http://kamolotkennels.com/. We found it impossible to find time to go out and visit her. Warren also found Natalie, www.mystykalsky.com, in New Brunswick. We were prepared to spend our weekend to go visit her and the six puppies but she wasn’t available on weekends; it was family time for her. Warren also found Debra who mentioned Nancy Henneberry; a name we had heard before from Joanne. We then managed to get in touch with Nancy in East Gore, an hour’s drive away from us. She is friends with Joanne as they both show their dogs together at competitions. She sounded perfect. My research suggested a breeder who raises the puppies in the home (so they are used to house noises and are more sociable), who parental pedigree is shared, who have health checks before sale, and a warranty against the genetic health of the puppy. Nancy also microchips her puppies, provides a crate, gives us a tips pamphlet, ongoing help, and asks for a crate mat and small stuffie with the family’s scent on it to familiarize the puppy with us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Waiting Begins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited a long time for Mystic to have her puppies. She was due 10 June. The week past her due date, I phoned to see when the puppies were born and how many. They were born 9 June and there were four, two males and two females. Again we had to wait to see if any of the puppies would be available. Nancy had to contact everyone on her waiting list and then get back to us. This would be Mystic’s last litter and Nancy wouldn’t have any more puppies available for two years. I hoped this would be our chance. On Sunday 28 June we received an email that we could have one of the two females. We liked the sable puppy the most. Again, we had to wait to see which puppy would be ours as Nancy likes to match the puppy’s temperament with the family. At about five weeks old, the breeder can usually tell what the puppy will be like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The middle of July came and Nancy told us we could have the sable female puppy as she wasn’t shy in the least and is the bravest one in the litter which means she’ll test her limits but she’ll be okay in our noisy home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Handling the Waiting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warren took to sharing the photos of the puppies through email and when we knew which puppy was ours, he set up a website link dedicated to Leela: http://members.rennlist.org/warren/leela.html &lt;br /&gt;Warren also took charge of the communication with Nancy and updating friends and relatives of the latest updates. &lt;br /&gt;Date: 2009/07/12&lt;br /&gt;Hi Nancy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheryl and the girls are anxiously awaiting news on the puppy. Her name will be Leela. So far Cheryl has knit five sweaters. Here is a picture of them being modeled on their toy cats, dogs, and a bear. http://members.rennlist.org/warren/sweaters.jpg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We purchased a crate mat from Best Friends Pet Supplies in Tantallon. They do not sell animals of any sort. The mat is very soft, I'd like a larger one for napping on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When could we stop by to see the dogs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warren&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took to checking out many books and dvds from the library. I wanted to learn about the Havanese breed, dog training, taking care of dogs and gulp! sewing, fun projects, and knitting for dogs. I began knitting before we knew if we had a puppy for certain and before we knew if it would be male or female. Warren’s favorite phrase was, “you don’t even have a dog.” I bought knitting needles, took some of the chunky yarn mum had on hand (all boy colours) and began knitting! People were astounded, including me, that I was knitting as it isn’t a favorite past-time of mine. Lynn even thought it was a joke when Warren emailed out a picture of the girls and their stuffies dressed in the dog sweaters. I didn’t even know if the sweaters would fit our dog. Once I knew we were getting a girl puppy, I went out and bought too much girl-coloured yarn (pinks, purples, pastels, textured, etc.) and knit more sweaters. By the time 1 August arrived, I had knit 10 sweaters (two for the girls’ stuffies.) I had also become familiar with using bobbins, stitch holders, and knitting terminology. I also took to making lists of possible supplies, picking dog-owning, co-workers’ brains, and comparing prices at The Great Canadian Dollar Store, Home Hardware, Canadian Tire, Walmart, Best Friends Pet Supplies, and Pets Unlimited. Then I took to buying and picking up things; carrying through on the nesting impulse. I found a few items second hand on www.kijiji.ca such as a crate, a dog bike carrier, a raincoat, and a dog carrying purse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Day We First Met Leela&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was easy to get everyone ready early Sunday morning 2 August 2009 for we were going to see Leela that day! We left shortly before 10am, made a stop at the bank for a $300 down payment extraction, arrived about an hour earlier than expected, and stayed for two hours, not one. The girls wanted to visit the two horses (Pepper and a rescued mare from BC) and the chickens and turkeys. Daddy wanted to give Nancy a blank cd to burn Leela photos onto. We also had our contract to sign, to hand over the crate mat and toy we had been sleeping with, and of course play with the puppies. We met all five adult dogs. Hooter is being shown in competitions and he had his full long cream colored coat to stroke. Quin and Brooke had their black and white coats shaved for easy maintenance in their rural setting. Mystic was suffering as all new mothers do and was in need of a bath and a good grooming. Nancy told us that she couldn’t give her a full bath because a wet coat would make the puppies cold. Her hormones from being pregnant made her hair coarse as well. The other adult dogs were Brooklyn, Quinn, and Peewee. Quinn is Nine years old and had only had three ear infections in her lifetime. We learned a little about all the puppies as well. Griffin, a week younger than the rest, is the smallest and is going to Nancy’s son. Griffin made it up the steps into the house for the first time while we were there. Marley, the other boy, named after a dog in a the movie, Marley and Me, is going to a family with a little girl and they also like to camp at Jelly stone Park. Marley is the more vocal of the litter and is the first to bark for food or when someone arrives. Lacey, or Leather and Lace, got her name the day before and is going to be staying with Nancy to be her new breed dog as the mother, Mystic, is retiring. Therefore, Nancy won’t have any more puppies for sale for two years. We took lots of photos and learned a few tips from Nancy about dogs. Nancy told us that Leela was the first to make it out of the whelping pen and the first to make it up the steps and into the house. She is also going through a shy stage and was quite shy while we were there but put up with our attention. We learned that the dog toys that the dogs like and last longer are the skinnys from Superstore (that I’d only seen the large ones of) and the Kennel Club ones from Walmart. We learned that the dogs are on Eagle Pack dog food; locally made and organic. Nancy suggested taking the crate door off as she’s heard of puppies that got their jaws caught on the hinges and died, and using a plastic pen from Toys ‘R Us to keep our dog in a safe area when we can’t watch her. Investigation into a pet pen revealed that one bought new would be over $100. Less expensive ones could be found on kijiji but Warren wasn’t convinced we needed one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Big Speech:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warren turned to me one evening and began: You realize that if you get a puppy, you will have to walk it, and feed it, walk it, and clean up it’s poop.... He’s been cheerily telling people that he knew there was no point in giving the girls “the speech” so he gave it to Cheryl instead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books Read and DVD’s in Preparation &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dvds:&lt;br /&gt;“Woof! A guide to dog training”&lt;br /&gt;“Dogs for Dummies an easy to follow program ”&lt;br /&gt;***“Training You to Train Your Puppy”&lt;br /&gt;Dog Whisperer with Cesar Millan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Books:&lt;br /&gt;“Havanese: a complete Pet Owner’s Guide”&lt;br /&gt;“Communicating with Your Dog: a humane approach to dog &lt;br /&gt;training”&lt;br /&gt;***“Mother Knows Best: the natural way to train your dog”&lt;br /&gt;“A Pet Love Guide to Training Your Dog”&lt;br /&gt;“Complete Dog Care Manuel”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dog Training Places:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unleashed Pawsabilities &lt;br /&gt;http://www.dynamicdogs.ca/aboutus.html&lt;br /&gt;Lietash Dog Academy&lt;br /&gt;Chewed Slipper&lt;br /&gt;Tamara MacFarland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Leela's Diary:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-234408601052639808?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/234408601052639808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=234408601052639808&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/234408601052639808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/234408601052639808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/08/story-of-leela.html' title='The Story of Leela'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7783771827367049253</id><published>2009-06-30T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T18:29:35.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gifts From Grandma</title><content type='html'>Grandma paid a visit from Newfoundland, bringing gifts galore. One of the first gifts she gave the girls was musical dolls from Germany that she picked up on her trip. Taylor was fine with hers but Mackenzie said, "I don't like her" and passed the doll back. A few minutes later she said there might be another girl who likes her so give her away. Grandma asked what Mackenzie would have liked her to bring back for her, "a rock." Turns out she meant a rock like the one Taylor got at the gift store. Mackenzie also pointed out something Grandma hadn't considered, Taylor's doll had nicer shoes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7783771827367049253?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7783771827367049253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7783771827367049253&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7783771827367049253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7783771827367049253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/06/gifts-from-grandma.html' title='Gifts From Grandma'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2210797277935781407</id><published>2009-06-22T18:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T18:22:26.394-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unexpected Behaviour</title><content type='html'>Taylor and I went on her class trip today to have a ride on Theodore Tugboat in Halifax Harbour. Taylor, like the other kids were getting rangy and rather wound up. So when we were home to meet with the summer sitter at 3pm I didn't expect her to quietly disappear. Mackenzie hung around chattering away; wound up herself on meeting a new person and having a sleepover at Grammie and Grampy's. Later this evening, I learned that Taylor hadn't been quietly watching the movie, Hercules, as I assumed, but rather CLEANING HER ROOM!!! When I tucked her into bed I was astounded to learn that she had not only made her bed and put her clothes away but there was nothing on the floor any more to accidentally step on or trip over or stub a toe on. It was a mother's dream. :) Of course I praised her on being so grown up and responsible and called Daddy in to see what Taylor had done without any prompting. What a girl!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2210797277935781407?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2210797277935781407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2210797277935781407&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2210797277935781407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2210797277935781407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/06/unexpected-behaviour.html' title='Unexpected Behaviour'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5000533733774308439</id><published>2009-06-19T07:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T07:12:36.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Up</title><content type='html'>Last week Miss Taylor got dressed right away in the morning with no extra encouragement.  Daddy wasn't feeling well so he was staying home that day and wasn't up getting the girls' breakfast.  After getting Mackenzie and myself dressed, I went out to the kitchen wondering what to get the girls for breakfast but Taylor had beat me to it.  She had warmed up a pizza pocket for herself and a frozen pizza for her sister.  And...she has also gotten her lunch bag out of the fridge and packed it in her backback for school.  Wow!  Now if this could only happen more often.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5000533733774308439?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5000533733774308439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5000533733774308439&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5000533733774308439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5000533733774308439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/06/growing-up.html' title='Growing Up'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7031065726352626811</id><published>2009-06-09T10:13:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T05:05:37.224-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mackenzie's Dog Tick Experience 3 June 2009</title><content type='html'>We live on almost two acres of land with woods around us, painfully obvious after winter winds blow several down. We have had deer, rabbits, fox, snakes, and a bear through our property but ticks have never been an issue... until this spring. This spring it has been difficult to stand at the edge of the driveway to look a lady slippers or stain the front steps without getting a tick on oneself. I had noticed this while staining the deck and mention to Daddy that we need to check the girls each night for ticks. We both forgot. Tuesday Mackenzie and I were outside for awhile as I was staining the front steps. I worked that night and wasn't home to dress Mackenzie but she often dresses herself now anyway. The next day Mackenzie dressed herself as well. At one point in the afternoon I decided to check on Mackenzie to see why she had been in the washroom so long. I had to open the door to find her with a sink full of water, and up to her elbows in bubbles, washing her brass horse, Mackenzie-dubbed "trophy." She had stripped off her sweater to keep her sleeves dry and I was able to notice a black spot on her back. "What's that, Mackenzie?" I asked out loud instead of keeping it to myself. It was a tick. Yeah. I called mum, the retired nurse for advice since I had a tick on me while camping years ago, as had we all. We didn't have the liquid on hand to put on it to get the tick to "back out" so she suggested the old match method (light it, blow it out, and touch the tick). Mackenzie squirmed a bit when I tried this and I was afraid I'd burn her. The tick didn't budge. Mum suggested making it hard for the tick to breathe and something hot like a muscle relaxation lotion. I put some "Tiger balm" on the tick, and again, it didn't budge but Mackenzie had a red spot where the balm had been. I then went online to research a solution. The wisdom of the Internet said not to use the old match or Vaseline method but to grab a hold of the tick with tweezers, as close to the head as possible, a pull slowly and steadily. So up to the bathroom we went. Mackenzie was getting more upset now and said it hurt when I tried to pull the tick off her. It had a strong hold on her and Mackenzie's skin would pull as I pulled the tick. The tweezers weren't able to hold on and it slipped out repeatedly. Mackenzie was in tears by this point and thought the tweezers were hurting her and didn't want me to go near her with them. I had some rubbing alcohol to drop the tick into at hand and held this to her back and the tick. I hadn't read in my first aid book at this point that this is supposed to loosen a tick's hold. I thought it might kill any "germs" if nothing else. The tick still wouldn't let go and Mackenzie had lost her willingness to co-operate. I told her I'd take her to a doctor to have the tick taken off. We still had 20 minutes to pick up Taylor at school so I went back to staining the front steps and Mackenzie buckled herself into her car seat, ready to go. Mackenzie fell asleep in the car so I gave the tick another try before leaving for Taylor. The tick kept slipping out of my tweezers. At the walk in Family Focus clinic, we waited a brief while before seeing a doctor. He said he removes a tick about every other day and that his tweezers are sharper. He also pulled the tick with a quick, removing-a-band-aid, technique. He bottled the tick for testing for rare lime disease (found in deer ticks). He checked the area where Mackenzie's tick had been but didn't swab it or anything else to care for it. Kenzie was incredibly calm at the doctor's office, and calmly lay on her tummy. She did ask if it would hurt and was told, "no." She later confirmed that "it didn't hurt a bit." We also received a phone call later to tell us it was a common dog tick. Both Mackenzie and Taylor were reluctant to go outside or to bed for the next three days and were regular with checking for ticks. I bought some bug and tick spray that worked at keeping the ticks off. The only difficulty was that it contained deet and wasn't to be used on children under the age of 12 years old. I sprayed the girls clothes instead. This meant that Taylor still got a tick behind her ear and one on her back. Regular checking for them kept any ticks from getting a good hold though and we had no more trouble with them. And we're thinking of getting a dog? What are we thinking? Ah, what's one more "baby" to check for ticks?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7031065726352626811?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7031065726352626811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7031065726352626811&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7031065726352626811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7031065726352626811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/06/mackenzies-dog-tick-experience-3-june.html' title='Mackenzie&apos;s Dog Tick Experience 3 June 2009'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-4196317522211393282</id><published>2009-06-09T10:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T10:23:14.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mackenzie's Favorite Shoes</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie has grown into a very girly girl.  She likes to wear dresses or skirts, especially the fancy ones.  She has even gotten into my lipstick a time or two.  She likes to wear headbands, and to have her hair in a neat ponytail.  She doesn't even like to take her ponytail out for showers or baths.  And of course, she has to wear dress shoes, not sneakers.  Well, she found a pair of white dress shoes with bows and pearls that tap nicely when she walked in them (better than the squeaking sandles she once had).  She got it in her head that they used to be my shoes when I was a girl and was a flower girl.  No idea where that thought came from.  But that is often the case with Miss Mackenzie.  She has worn the shoes to death; wearing them in all kinds of weather wet or dry and in muddy backyards or dry sidewalks.  The paint wore off of them, the bows came off - twice, the soles wore down to the next layer, and the toes were worn clear through.  We painted them twice, before I tossed them in the garbage.  She helped paint them the second time and I told her to go for it and dug out the glitter glue.  When the toes wore through and the paint wore off yet again, I snuck them into the garbage on garbage day.  Mackenzie found a black velvet pair of dress shoes in her possession when she couldn't find the white ones and was satisfied; fortunately.  She asked three days later where her white ones were, if I had thrown them out. Surprisingly, she understood and didn't get mad at me.  I'll have to keep in mind that she likes shoes that tap.  Mind you, when she goes to school next year she's needs indoor shoes in the form of sneakers.  She'll have to keep her dress shoes for playing outside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-4196317522211393282?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/4196317522211393282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=4196317522211393282&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4196317522211393282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4196317522211393282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/06/mackenzies-favorite-shoes.html' title='Mackenzie&apos;s Favorite Shoes'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2706792545670376506</id><published>2009-06-09T10:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T10:28:43.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mackenzie School Orientation 29 May 2009</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie has been going with me every day I drop Taylor off at school for French Immersion for almost two years.  She has gone to Taylor's Christmas concerts, the cookies with Santa event, an ice cream social, a pajama dance, two Spring flings, gingerbread house construstion, a craft help day, and so forth.  She also knew on April Fool's day that I stood in line at 5:30am to get her into Taylor's French Immersion school.  We also got the call early (late May) that Mackenzie had been accepted into French Immersion.  So, when primary orientation day came, Mackenzie was VERY confused when I dropped Taylor off but not her.  She went to her orientation at Sackville Heights.  There were children there from our neighbourhood surprised that she was starting this year and thinking that their child would be attending with Mackenzie.  Mackenzie ended her orientation labelling many of the children that she had recently met as her new friends and "in my class."  I so wish that the French Immersion school would let the first five or so kids orientate at their desired school.   It is so confusing to so many.  I wonder how Mackenzie will take it when I drop her off at the French Immersion school in the fall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2706792545670376506?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2706792545670376506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2706792545670376506&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2706792545670376506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2706792545670376506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/06/mackenzie-school-orientation-29-may.html' title='Mackenzie School Orientation 29 May 2009'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7167855496964680238</id><published>2009-06-09T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-21T05:13:18.992-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeding Smokey the Bear  24 May 2009</title><content type='html'>Forgetting about gymnastics, I pushed the idea to go visit the Oaklawn Zoo in Aylesford. Warren said it was too late to go and it was supposed to rain but went along with us anyway. It rained on the drive down but the weather was cloudy and dry while we were at the zoo and the crowds were down and the animals were out to see. We were finished walking around by 5:30pm and thought we may as well stay for the 6pm feeding. It was a new experience to see the cats fed, and the bears. Smokey the bear came to the front of the cage to take a peppermint from between the trainer/feeder's lips, to stand on his hind legs to reach some meat passed through the fence by a visitor, and took peppermints and peanuts through the fence from anyone who wanted to feed the bear. Taylor and Mackenzie both took turns. Mommy and Daddy weren't interested. Mind you, staying later for the animals' feeding meant were were late feeding ourselves and had supper at Swiss Chalet at 8:30pm, and didn't arrive home until 10:30pm. Way past the girls' bedtime. But what a great visit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7167855496964680238?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7167855496964680238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7167855496964680238&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7167855496964680238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7167855496964680238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/06/feeding-smokey-bear-24-may-2009.html' title='Feeding Smokey the Bear  24 May 2009'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7149929833768212928</id><published>2009-05-05T16:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T10:43:08.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Loved Him</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie just wasn't having a good day yesterday. She was trying to do things right and to be helpful but things just kept falling apart. She carried her flower pot and her sister's flower pot of two week old seedlings, tripped and lost the dirt and helpless seedlings on the hot sunny deck. I did fortunately learn of this accident before the plants dried up and died. We were able to replant and water them. Later I discovered that my dish soap had lowered about four inches (I know I'm supposed to think in metric now) and there were lots and lots of bubbles in my kitchen sink, in my dish cloth, dish towel, and... inches away from the sink, in Kenzie's betta bowl. I looked closer and found the betta floating amongst the roots of the plant in his betta habitat. "Kenzie, why are there so many bubbles in your fish's bowl?" I anxiously asked. "I don't know," of course was her reply. I hurriedly changed the water while quizzing Kenzie as to what might have happened and explaining that soap is bad for fish. Once I realised the fish couldn't be saved and was likely suffocating in bubble water for more than two hours (since Kenzie emerged outdoors and smelled of a sweet sent I couldn't identify but thought it might be important), I calmed down and tried to explain a few things. I told Kenzie that it was nice of her to try to clean her fish but as I'm said while changing the bowl water that using soap makes the fish sick. She had been good to him and had fed him every day and had learned not to give him too much food and dirty his water. But the soap had made him die. Next time if she makes a mess or thinks something is wrong to tell me and we might be able to fix it; like we were able to replant the seedlings, we could have changed the fish's water. Kenzie was in a flood of tears and said, "I loved him and I took could care of him." When we picked up Taylor at school, Kenzie was in tears and sniffles again as she explained that her fish had died. Taylor was very consoling, gave her sister a hug, explained that she knew Kenzie was sad and missed her fish, and in the end Taylor even gave Mackenzie her betta fish. At supper, it was tears again. I actually remembered that amongst the pile of library books we had one about dealing with death, "The Berestain Bears lose a Friend." Taylor hurriedly found the book and Mackenzie wanted it read right away. In the book sister bear's fish dies and they make a tombstone from a rock and permanent marker. Kenzie soon disappeared after the story and reemerged with a dirty kid's shovel and the empty container her fish had been in. Taylor and I went outside with Kenzie, at Taylor's asking, to see where the fish had been buried. Kenzie had found a rock and scribbled her message on it. Taylor and I found another flatter rock and I wrote Mackenzie's dictated message onto it: "I loved him. He was the best fish in the whole world. I took good care of him. I miss him." Taylor drew a picture of a fish and a heart before we pushed the rock into the ground next to the expired fish. There were more sniffles the next day but also a request for a rabbit. A rabbit?! Mackenzie claims, "I know all the responsibilities for a rabbit." I don't want to find out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7149929833768212928?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7149929833768212928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7149929833768212928&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7149929833768212928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7149929833768212928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-loved-him.html' title='I Loved Him'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-1036053990915091816</id><published>2009-05-05T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T16:15:40.174-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Think He's Handsome?</title><content type='html'>Jaime's 30th birthday was approaching so we had to come up with a cake design that would top last year's cauldron in the forest. It also had to be easy as I was working full hours prior to our weekly FCW meeting. Lately Jaime has discovered her fondness for Spock in Star Trek. So I went online looking for a cake design. They were all too complex or not Spock orientated enough. Then I thought I would just make a basic 8*8 square cake. Then I'd put green jello in the center (Vulcan blood is green) and top it with a photo of Spock. In my google images' search for Spock I found a cut and paste on body version that would do the trick; a naked from the groin up photo of Spock. I printed this off and glued it onto wax paper so that the ink wouldn't run. Initially our get together was to be a Jaime's apartment rather than my house. Jaime was worn out that week from finishing school for the year and beginning work and practicum. So the cake went into the freezer for a week and our meeting was at my place the following week with my girls to share in the eating of the cake. Mackenzie was quick to pipe up when the cake was set before Jaime (who had a good laugh about it when she first saw it). "Do you think he's handsome? Are you going to kiss him when you get married? (And without waiting for a reply) Yuck! Kissing is gross."  Knowingly Jaime's response,  "Oh, you'll change your mind someday."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-1036053990915091816?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/1036053990915091816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=1036053990915091816&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1036053990915091816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1036053990915091816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/05/do-you-think-hes-handsome.html' title='Do You Think He&apos;s Handsome?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-346700095131658277</id><published>2009-04-11T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T08:58:03.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Expert</title><content type='html'>Last weekend, Mackenzie had her three years old, almost four, cousin over for a sleep over.  Being the youngest in our family she will still make baby whimpers for attention and asks people to turn the bathroom light on for her.  Well, her more matronly instincts come out around Malachi.  Her other cousin, Jake, same age, brings out other instincts which I shall not mention.  Mackenzie began taking care of her guest by buckling Malachi into her car seat for the drive to our house.  She unbuckled him when we arrived home and then took him by the hand to lead him in.  Once inside, she helped him take off his coat and put it where the kids' coats go and she took off his shoes and put them on the shoe mat.  Now why doesn't she do that for her own clothing?  Yeah, I know, because she can get away with it.  She also explained that "Malachi is our guest so he gets to pick what we do."  However, I'm not certain that is what was carried out.  When he needed the washroom later, she was quick to run to him and ask if he needed the light turned on, pulled over a stool, and turned on the light.  I've been had!  The next day when it was time to get in the car again, she buckled him up, again.  On the car ride, she began to not only care for her cousin but to watch my driving.  Little show off.  "Mommy, this way," she indicated with her hands, "now this way. That's it!  Now go straight.  Keep going.  Keep going.  Be careful.  Now stop. (This when the stop sign appeared.)  Mommy?  Remember when I teached you to drive?"  "No. When was that?"  I figured this answer was going to be good.  "Oh, a long time ago.  I teached you so you'll be careful and not crash into another car." Right....  I guess I don't have to worry about her self-esteem.  Now how do I teach her that I, as parent, don't always have to say please when asking her to do something, especially when she is misbehaving.  Maybe I should ask Mackenzie since she seems to have all the answers.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-346700095131658277?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/346700095131658277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=346700095131658277&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/346700095131658277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/346700095131658277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/04/little-expert.html' title='Little Expert'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7081392746634193864</id><published>2009-04-04T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T10:28:48.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Taylor's Fault</title><content type='html'>Taylor has now completed a year and a half of formal education. It used to be a real struggle to make it to school, and not be too, too late. For the last month we've been able to arrive at the first bell, most of the time. Well, on Thursday past, Mommy was tired from her standing in line at 5:30am to get Mackenzie into French Immersion next year, and Mackenzie was being a four-year old Mackenzie and easily side-tracked, putting on lipstick, changing her skirt three times, and so forth. Taylor got right to business. She packed her lunch into her back pack and got it to the front door, brushed her teeth and put toothpaste on Mommy and Kenzie's tooth brushes, then she got dressed in her snow pants, coat, hat, mitts, etc, before making a pile for Mommy and a pile for Mackenzie. Mommy's coat and shoes and Mackenzie's coat and shoes. Taylor had all this accomplished and was patiently waiting by the door for Kenzie and I to brush our teeth and get ready. No thanks to Mackenzie and I, Taylor arrived after the second that day, but before "Oh Canada" was played. Taylor told us later that someone was sent from Safe Arrival to her classroom to make certain she had made it to class. Hopefully, once Mackenzie starts school, they'll both be as efficient at getting ready in the morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7081392746634193864?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7081392746634193864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7081392746634193864&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7081392746634193864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7081392746634193864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-taylors-fault.html' title='Not Taylor&apos;s Fault'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-48798533512552323</id><published>2009-03-31T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T13:52:10.181-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring Has Sprung</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie and I were on our drive home from church, enjoying the sounds and sensations of spring. The windows were down for the first time since fall. Taylor was home recovering from strep throat so there was no fighting in the back seat. It was peaceful. Suddenly, Mackenzie pipes up, "Mommy! I just heard a bird singing a love song!" So I tuned in and sure enough, I could hear the birds singing in conjunction with the hum of my winter tires. "I heard another bird!" Mackenzie fell into quiet observation for five minutes and then calmly noted, "I like the breeze. It's re-laxin'." Yes, spring is finally on it's way to Nova Scotia. Mind you two days later there were school closures and our world was again covered in snow. But spring is on it's way. I imagine that mom from the playground on Sunday is wishing she didn't get her tires changed just yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-48798533512552323?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/48798533512552323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=48798533512552323&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/48798533512552323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/48798533512552323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/03/spring-has-sprung.html' title='Spring Has Sprung'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-1946443515940281057</id><published>2009-03-26T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T09:17:55.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a Self-Conscious Bone In Her Body</title><content type='html'>When I arrived at Grammie and Grampy's yesterday to pick the girls up after work, Kenzie was eager for me to come and watch her perform.  The girls' true personalities stood out for me more at that time than any other.  Taylor sat on the sidelines operating the music, a wind-up, Fisher Price, record player and made the occasional appearance "on stage" to assist her sister.  Mackenzie danced, twirled (great twirls), posed, and was spun (standing and carried) by her sister to the music of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."  She was very focused and serious about her performance.  When asked how she got her twirls that good, she replied, "I've been practicing all day."  All day wasn't when I had her with me until 1pm.  Mackenzie sat back at one point and announced, "Okay, Taylor, your turn."  Taylor looked up shyly from her seat next to the Fisher Price record player.  I filled in for her, "I think maybe Taylor prefers to help out."  Taylor quickly agreed and Mackenzie, equally quickly, took to the center stage again.  Of course, there was more of this performance immediately after Mackenzie finished her supper.  And when Grampy didn't arrive right away she went and dragged him into the living room.  Ah, where is a camera or camcorder when you need one?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-1946443515940281057?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/1946443515940281057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=1946443515940281057&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1946443515940281057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1946443515940281057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-self-conscious-bone-in-her-body.html' title='Not a Self-Conscious Bone In Her Body'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6449193817386868464</id><published>2009-03-25T06:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T07:00:34.065-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy's Nurse Maid</title><content type='html'>Mommy was the one sick this time. Fortunately no one else seems to have caught the bug that began with a really sore throat - reminded me of strep because I didn't want to swallow - followed by chills and sweats, congestion that led to a cough as the throat was trying to heal on antibiotics, and then a lack of balance or dizziness as my ears filled up, as well as overall fatigue. Well, after ignoring my little voice for 24 hours, I gave in and visited the walk-in clinic on Monday. Skipping the gym for the usual workout and risking low points for the March Nutrition month competition at work, I went home, put a movie on for Mackenzie and crawled in bed. Well Mackenzie, then took care of Mommy. She brought me two extra pillows and tucked them under my head, brought me a drink of water, took my temperature (only 38.7), gave me a teddy bear to cuddle, made me gargle my throat medicine, pulled up the covers, and gave me a kiss. Two hours later she asked me to come downstairs because she wanted to play. How could I refuse after that great nap and quality care?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6449193817386868464?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6449193817386868464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6449193817386868464&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6449193817386868464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6449193817386868464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/03/mommys-nurse-maid.html' title='Mommy&apos;s Nurse Maid'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-1768009744211196299</id><published>2009-03-18T14:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T14:30:24.911-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Freckles" by Natasha Bedingfield</title><content type='html'>I used to care so much about what others think about&lt;br /&gt;Almost didn't have a thought of my own&lt;br /&gt;The slightest remark would make me embark&lt;br /&gt;On the journey of self doubt&lt;br /&gt;But that was a while ago&lt;br /&gt;This girl has got stronger&lt;br /&gt;If I knew then what I know now&lt;br /&gt;I would have told myself don't worry any longer it's OK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus:]&lt;br /&gt;'cause a face without freckles is like a sky without stars&lt;br /&gt;Why waste a second not loving who you are&lt;br /&gt;Those little imperfections make you beautiful, lovable, valuable,&lt;br /&gt;They show your personality inside your heart&lt;br /&gt;Reflecting who you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who you are&lt;br /&gt;Who you are&lt;br /&gt;Who you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wondered if I could trade my body with somebody else in magazines&lt;br /&gt;Would the whole world fall at my feet?&lt;br /&gt;I felt unworthy and would blame my failures on the ugliness I could see&lt;br /&gt;When the mirror looked at me&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel like the little girl who doesn't belong in her own world&lt;br /&gt;But I'm getting better&lt;br /&gt;And I'm reminding myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reflecting who you are&lt;br /&gt;Reflecting who you are&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm&lt;br /&gt;Whoooooo whoa hmmmm oooooo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Chorus]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-1768009744211196299?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/1768009744211196299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=1768009744211196299&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1768009744211196299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1768009744211196299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/03/freckles-by-natasha-bedingfield.html' title='&quot;Freckles&quot; by Natasha Bedingfield'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8647412333129637539</id><published>2009-03-16T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T18:00:07.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It Makes Me Sad</title><content type='html'>This year, the empty lot at the entrance of our subdivision was cleared of brush, a driveway entrance put in, and a Christmas tree lot was put up. A trailer with a wood stove moved in, lights were put up, and trees erected. I seldom saw cars there buying Christmas trees. Well Christmas came and went and not even the first of two truck loads of trees sold. The trailer and the "Mieser's Trees" sign disappeared but the trees, tire and tire rim stands, and railing remained. And they remained. Today, two men were there with a wood chipper clearing away the dead trees. It is now 16 March, almost three months after the Christmas tree season ended. I felt it was depressing driving past the lot at least once a day. Even Taylor spoke up last week as we drove by, "it makes me feel sad to see those trees." I wonder if the tree sellers managed to break even. I wonder if they had a part in the clean up or if someone complained enough to their councillor. I did see someone on Friday taking photos of the abandoned lot. I wasn't looking forward to watching the trees turn brown and dropping their needles as the weather warms up; leaving tree skeletons behind. Now it will be less saddening to drive by. I hate to see trees that slowly grew, and were trimmed and cultivated for years, but cut down only to die. I love a real tree in my home but allergies make it necessary to use an artificial tree. And that contributes to the loss of sales for Christmas tree growers and to the increase in needless deaths of living trees that help cleanse our continually polluted air. I imagine Taylor's comment only reflects a small portion of my thoughts that sadden me when I see unappreciated, dead Christmas trees.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8647412333129637539?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8647412333129637539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8647412333129637539&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8647412333129637539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8647412333129637539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/03/it-makes-me-sad.html' title='It Makes Me Sad'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-695253698739875346</id><published>2009-02-23T09:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T09:32:46.385-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Doodlebops Concert</title><content type='html'>We've been waiting for four years for the Doodlebops to come further east than Ontario so that we could attend a concert. They finally came to Halifax this winter. Warren was able to get advance tickets and we had seats at center isle, row B.  Taylor, who's 6 years old, after the concert reported that it was "great! I've never seen the Doodlebops that close before. They look different then how they draw them on television. Rooney's neck is skinnier." She also said that she enjoyed the Doodlebop dancers. She said they had some great moves. But I don't know why we couldn't have seen more of the Doodlebops in the 1.5 hour concert with at 15 minutes intermission (to sell more stuff I suppose). Small children and Kenzie would ask the same questions when the dancers came on, "where are the Doodlebops?" I know that when they came on stage, I was disappointed. We paid $138 for four seats and the group was up of imitators. The Doodlebops weren't THE Doodlebops. It was also typical concert with overpriced condiments that we weren't allowed to take into the auditorium: Chocolate bar for $2, chips for $1.75, and juice for $2; all small sizes. They also had the expensive souvenirs; none under $5. The t-shirts, Rooney toy guitar, and 12 inch Doodlebop dolls were all $20; the light necklaces were $10 and the coloring books were $5. Not surprising. I also heard children besides mine voicing their expectations based on the CBC Get Set For Life Tour; where were the toys to use while you were waiting? But this wasn't being put on by CBC. The Doodlebops are just shown on CBC. But I'll try to keep my thoughts to myself and let the kids enjoy the show from their own perspective; a less cynical one.  At least they are old enough to remember this concert, the way I remember going to see Mr. Dress-Up when I was a kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-695253698739875346?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/695253698739875346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=695253698739875346&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/695253698739875346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/695253698739875346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/02/doodlebops-concert.html' title='Doodlebops Concert'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6416602241226936453</id><published>2009-02-19T09:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T10:01:00.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Helper</title><content type='html'>I'm not certain if it's an older child learned behaviour or a genetically programmed behaviour.  Taylor has always been a lot like me personality wise.  For example, she likes order.  She used to arrange the bubblegum packs in the check out lines; sorting pink with pink and purple with purple.  She also has an interest in arranging her room and craft drawers.  Mackenzie has no interest in it at all.  Taylor is also far better at putting her clothes away; boots on the mat, coat in the coat basket, dirty clothes in the laundry.  Better, not perfect.  Mackenzie is always coming up with excuses not to:  I'm too tired, I can't, you do it, I don't want to...  Well, after 1.5 years of Taylor going to school she is used to routine and what needs done to get the three of us out the door in the morning by 8am.  At six years old she will usually make her bed (allowance by points helps this) and get dressed in the morning.  It takes prompts to get her to brush her hair but she'll show up with a brush and ponytail elastic without being asked.  When breakfast is over she disappears only to reappear with all three toothbrushes in hand, with toothpaste on them.  And there's two different kinds of toothpaste; the kids' toothpaste and my toothpaste.  She is also quite adept at getting her backpack and then dressing without reminders to get snow pants, mitts, hat, scarf, etc.  Taylor has also attempted to help Mackenzie along by picking out her coat, hat, and mitts but Mackenzie, being Mackenzie, doesn't want help nor what anyone else has picked out for her.  Taylor has also now reached the point where she asks for my car keys so she can go start the car.  Of course she is environmentally aware so she doesn't start the car until Mackenzie and I emerge from the house; she doesn't want to waste gas and pollute the earth and drown polar bears but that's another story.  Taylor's behaviour could be learned for she is my little helper being the elder child and she likes to please.  Her behaviour could also be a result of being motivated to get to school on time.  I can't help but wonder what some time at school will do for Mackenzie.  We'll find out next year.  In the meantime, Taylor is a great help to getting us out the door without the tears and frustrations that once were the norm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6416602241226936453?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6416602241226936453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6416602241226936453&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6416602241226936453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6416602241226936453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/02/mothers-helper.html' title='Mother&apos;s Helper'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7293422833640086808</id><published>2009-02-05T05:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T05:57:29.905-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stubborn by Birth and by Genetics</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie is a constant challenge to my patience.  Last week I was trying to hurry her to get ready to pick up her sister at school and snapped at her when I had to ask her for a third time to hurry up.  She crossed her arms, firmly planted her feet, looked me in the eye and said, "Mommy, you didn't say please!"  Oh, boy.  How do I teach her that there are times when a parent doesn't have to say, "please"?  Then Sunday, the girls and I are finally not running late for church and calmly walking across the parking lot watching the gulls circle overhead.  Mackenzie stops and announces she sees a baby one while Taylor and I plod on.  Next, Mackenzie is screaming at us that we have to wait for her and to come back.  It's a struggle of wits as I tell her we are walking slowly, she'll catch up, we won't leave her alone, and so on but she continues to tell us to come back.  Finally I tell her I'm not going back and she can catch up if she wants to but we're going.  She actually does cave and runs up only to hit me in her usual mad fashion and continues to rave.  We manage to get inside and I tell the calm Taylor to get ready and go join Grammie and Grampy.  Fortunate that they are usually there so I can remove Taylor from this confrontation.  For fifteen minutes, I try to figure out what to do while Mackenzie rips a strip off of me.  I try to time out on a nearby chair but it causes more ruckus in the attempt.  I try to think of a room to use that wouldn't be a reward and is available.  I can't think of one.  I finally say I'll have to take her home if she doesn't start behaving.  She then says she wants to go home so that threat doesn't hold any weight and I'd have to leave Taylor behind.  It would also be difficult but not impossible to get a message to her to come back out or to go with Grammie and Grampy (hopefully they have room in their car or it will be a return trip for me).  I also don't want to support they staying home on Sunday mornings that Daddy would so be supportive of.  Somewhere in Mackenzie's tantrum she tells me, "Mommy you look silly.  I want you to wear dresses."  I have no idea where that came from.  I know Mackenzie likes to wear dresses and skirts herself but why me?  An elder comes over, someone I know well, and starts talking with Mackenzie.  He tells her that next time Mommy won't walk ahead without her and it wasn't nice of Mommy to leave her behind.  I don't approve of his supporting Mackenzie's side but she calms down and finally she will take off her coat and boots so we can go into the service.  I'm disappointed that I missed going up front to put my change into the wooden church money bank for it being my birthday this month.  This is my time and I actually remembered to bring change.  Mackenzie and I excuse ourselves past two friends to get into the pew next to Grammie and Grampy.  We muddle through a song and it's children's time already.  Mackenzie goes up for it but is now feeling insecure after our fight and returns to me rather than going up to Sunday School.  A few minutes later she wants me to take her to her class and to stay so I miss the entire sermon and arrive back in church for the final prayer.  What a day.  What a kid.  And it's this way with her every day, some days more than others.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7293422833640086808?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7293422833640086808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7293422833640086808&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7293422833640086808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7293422833640086808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/02/stubborn-by-birth-and-by-genetics.html' title='Stubborn by Birth and by Genetics'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7454339780916561619</id><published>2009-01-18T18:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T18:39:41.975-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rejection</title><content type='html'>Things are happening to girls too commonly at an earlier and earlier age. To my six year old Taylor, sleepovers are an event of fun and acceptance. I didn't have my first friend sleep over until I was turning ten.  This past weekend I told her she could have someone over Saturday night. Taylor phoned Sarah Friday afternoon and learned that she was going to Grace's birthday party and couldn't come over. Saturday morning before I left for work, Taylor began phoning again. At lunch time she phoned me at work to say Rebbecca was going to Grace's sleepover party and couldn't come. Could she phone Julianna? In my mind I thought, "ouch, rejection, being left out." When I arrived home, she told me that Julianna was going to Grace's sleepover party. Oh dear. She then phoned Parker and no, Parker wasn't allowed to sleep over. Not surprising as she's never been over nor Taylor to Parker's house. This was beginning to remind me of when my then eleven year old step daughter was living with us, phoning friend after friend trying to reach someone available to be with. Taylor then phoned her cousin with whom schedules often don't allow us to spend time together. I had thought their church was no longer being held Saturday night due to relocation and he'd finally be available. Turned out, not yet. Taylor was put out but not as badly as I anticipated. I suppose taking the girls swimming after supper helped. I wonder if Taylor took it personally or understands that it is difficult to find time available when your friend/s are also available. I'll have to ask her later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7454339780916561619?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7454339780916561619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7454339780916561619&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7454339780916561619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7454339780916561619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/01/rejection.html' title='Rejection'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2962318523529388204</id><published>2009-01-14T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T12:59:24.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Motivator</title><content type='html'>Another day began and the three of us were on our way to drop Taylor off at school.  Mackenzie and I were heading for the gym and daycare again.  Hey, we were out of the house and nearby anyway...  Mackenzie was telling her sister about the "fun" we had the day before packing up Christmas decorations.  She took items from me as I had undecorated the plant shelf and handed me boxes for the attic or from the attic for the next batch of decorations.  The fun part was that she got to play with the plush Santa again.  I started complaining that I wanted to stay home today and be lazy.  I had hoped with the forecast of freezing weather would create a storm day (they closed school at 11:30am, prematurely in my opinion).  Mackenzie added her two cents:  "Mommy, grownups need exercise to stay healthy and to get strong."  Oh... I thought, I guess she has been listening to my ramblings.  But at least she hasn't learned to focus on weight, just yet.  Way to go my little motivator!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2962318523529388204?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2962318523529388204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2962318523529388204&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2962318523529388204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2962318523529388204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2009/01/little-motivator.html' title='Little Motivator'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5996282613807079004</id><published>2008-12-27T12:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T12:36:14.062-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Want It!</title><content type='html'>This is the first year that Christmas actually meant something to my three year old; Santa who gives presents and presents.  Unfortunately this present fixation is fed by the fact that her birthday is the week after Christmas.  Yahoo.  Also, being young, she wants some unusual gifts, like a rainbow mommy goose.  Mrs. Claus had to do some sewing for that; $2.00 and 6 hours later she had one and a favorite, so far, of Mackenzie's.  She also asked for purple bubblegum which I have yet to find.  And a crawling My Lil'Pony that she put in her toy box Christmas night, not in her bed with the Webkinz.  And I swear she asked for a Baby Alive.  I rushed out to get one in October when they were on sale from $59 to $48 and tucked it away.  In late November I discovered that they were now selling for $30.  What?!  and Ouch!  Of course there's a no returns after 20 days policy.  I could likely get around that after Christmas.  Anyhow, Christmas morning arrives.  Taylor wakes at 7:11am and crawls in with Daddy and I.  She ignored the presents under her tree in her room and she patiently waits for Mackenzie to get up at 7:40am.  Mackenzie then goes through her gifts like the Tasmanian Devil; dumping out her stocking in the middle of Taylor's bedroom floor while Taylor goes through her bedroom gifts, then ripping open anything with an "M" on it under the tree.  From time to time she'd stop and spin around asking, "where's another present for me?  There's no more presents for me?"  Well, she excitedly gave her goose a hug and a kiss saying, "Me love it!  It's so soft!"  And she excitedly said that the crawling pony was, "just what me wanted" before tossing it aside and moving on.  Well, she tore open her Baby Alive doll, just had the front paper torn off, took a peek at what it was and tossed it down in disgust as only Mackenzie can express it, "I don't want that!  I don't like babies!"  Well the poor doll sat to the side of the living room, in the box until boxing day.  I had been thinking I might get my $15 back after all and take the doll to the store, it was a Christmas present and yes I have the receipt.  As I folded the clothes in the bedroom wondering when returns were permitted, Taylor came in and asked if she could have the doll.  I suggested we could take it to the store and get the crawling pony she wanted and didn't receive and still have money left over.  Taylor paused considering her options, "no, I want the doll.  I'll take good care of it."  Well I thought this could be dangerously interesting.  So we unpacked the doll undoing all the twist ties and tape and so on.  Taylor then set about feeding the doll that came with only two diapers and two packages of food.  Mackenzie surprisingly only wanted to have a turn feeding the doll and then moved on.  Taylor on the other hand has been quite attentive to her doll and will talk to it as it talks to her and rushes around trying to attend it's every request.  I had to tell her that she could put it down and it would go to sleep and give her a break.  Taylor will have to give her a name after all, all her new Webkinz received names.  Daddy asked what we should get to replace Mackenzie's present.  I told him not to worry about it.  She should learn to take what she gets and has too much anyway, plus there's more gifts in her future with a birthday around the corner.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5996282613807079004?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5996282613807079004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5996282613807079004&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5996282613807079004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5996282613807079004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-dont-want-it.html' title='I Don&apos;t Want It!'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2346984263950987014</id><published>2008-12-25T16:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T18:35:55.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye to a Good Friend</title><content type='html'>During Thanksgiving weekend 1991, my sister Andrea gave me an early Christmas present, a black, 8 month old kitten with white down his nose and white on his paws. The summer before we had put our 13 year old cat to sleep after he got into antifreeze and his kidneys shut down and my 7 month old grey tiger-striped kitty had disappeared. My sister had rescued yet another cat as this one had been dumped in a ditch. This new feline acquired the name "Ajax" from a Shakespearean play I was reading for English literature at the time. Perhaps ironically, Ajax wasn't the black character in the play "Othello". Ajax came to live with me in my first ever apartment and got to know my friends, roommates, boyfriend, and pet fish at that time. Three years later he travelled from Marc's apartment to our old apartment when I moved without him into a no cats apartment. He somehow survived travelling the main street of Wolfville during this search. His collar tag helped someone nearby to get in touch with me. After exploring my new apartment he was okay with residing elsewhere. Ajax stayed with me while I graduated three times from university (I went back and got my honors when I didn't get into the Bachelor of Education program right away). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajax and I moved back home to mum and dad's when I graduated for the last time in 1994. He was with me through the break up of my boyfriend of five years. He also gave me comfort as I struggled to get a teaching job and substitute taught for seven years. Three years later, in late 1997, he moved with me into an apartment in a 100 year old home. He gave me love and companionship as I lived for the first time, alone and single, for three years. He would greet me at the door no matter the hour, he would snuggle with me and keep me warm at night, and he comforted me when I was sick or feeling very much alone. In 2000, he moved in with mum and dad again while I stayed in a cat-free apartment before getting married in 2001. He lived with me again after I married. We lived at that location for just over a year before moving again into my first home (that I choose) and a week before the birth of my first child, Taylor. Ajax kept me company through all those late night nursings and frustrations of a new mother with an infant that isn't nursing well. He was also with me while my step-daughter lived with us for 11 months in 2003. Ajax lived with us in Lucasville through Taylor's birth and growth until I was pregnant with my second child, Mackenzie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am allergic to cats. A discovery I learned after I already had Ajax for awhile. I was advised to give him away as I was highly allergic to cats and that he could still live for quite a while. Warren is also asthmatic. To top things off, I wasn't to be near kitty litter while I was pregnant and Warren - mister anti-cats - wasn't going through another nine months of kitty litter duty. I tried to find Ajax a new home and in the end mum and dad adopted him. Three years later or during this past year he developed hyper-thyroid and lost his hearing. He went down hill health wise rapidly. Apparently Dad wasn't ready to let him go and Mum continued to pay for his medicine at $80 a month until this past week. Ajax stopped eating last weekend and had a visible growth on his leg that he kept chewing at. Monday 22 December 2008 at 4:40pm, I took the girls with me to meet mum at the vet. We all went in the exam room to pet him and say, "goodbye." Then mum stayed with him for the needle and we returned shortly afterwards to say, "goodbye" again. I fell apart when I wasn't expecting to but Ajax had been my comfort and friend for years. I also won't be getting another cat to ease the transition. Mackenzie said it was scary but now she won't be asking constantly where is Ajax as she did when Maddy died past spring. Taylor said it was sad and had a lot of questions going to the vet and since then, mainly around how sad am I and how sad she is. I found comfort when Taylor reflected the words I had spoken to her earlier as I tried to explain why we were putting Ajax to sleep or killing him, letting him die, "his medicine wasn't helping any more, so he won't hurt any more." She also added her own thoughts, "and now he's in heaven with Jesus." I would also like to add that she also asked me why we don't do that for people, let them die when their medicine isn't working any more and they are in pain. Good question, don't you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2346984263950987014?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2346984263950987014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2346984263950987014&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2346984263950987014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2346984263950987014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/12/goodbye-to-good-friend.html' title='Goodbye to a Good Friend'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3130582978489943443</id><published>2008-12-03T18:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T18:24:57.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grammie, I need money</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie never has no likely ever will be known as subtle. While shopping yesterday for Angel tree gifts, Santa was spotting in his large chair, waving at girls and boys. Mackenzie started walking right up the red carpet until I stopped her and said we should ask Grammie if we could borrow some money because I didn't have any cash. Taylor hung back a bit not sure what to do. While I was telling her of our cash dilemma, Santa picked out two reindeer antler hats and candy canes and waved her forward. Taylor didn't hesitate then and went up to Santa, excited at his gifts. Mackenzie then returned with a twenty dollar bill, gave the money to me and went up to see Santa and what Taylor had. Santa put together the hats for the girls and was fitting them on when the photographer asked him to wait as we'd like to get a photo. I had been chatting with the photographer. The girls sat pleased as punch, for the first time ever, on Santa's knee. As there was no line up they had quite a chat as well. Taylor keeps reminding Mackenzie that she told Santa that she would be good until Christmas eve. Taylor also adds that she told Santa that she would try her best because we all make mistakes sometimes. - Grammie appeared later and explained that Mackenzie had found her in the Dollarstore, came right up and abruptly said, "Grammie, we need money." I don't think I've ever not been afraid of Santa, a stranger in a stranger beard. I also don't think I've ever been that bold asking for money. Who is Mackenzie related to anyway?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3130582978489943443?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3130582978489943443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3130582978489943443&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3130582978489943443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3130582978489943443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/12/grammie-i-need-money.html' title='Grammie, I need money'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-1080129344409169505</id><published>2008-11-17T14:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T14:15:15.258-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Serious Adult Conversation</title><content type='html'>I had to smile yesterday as I watched my two girls playing make believe.  Mackenzie was seated on her wooden chair beside the coffee table, pretending to sip her tea from her toy china cup, "...and you'll be my sister forever" was the end statement I caught as I tuned in.  Taylor was standing, the skirt of her dress pulled up to show her striped tights. She held her baby kitty stuffy to her breast as she looked at Mackenzie and continued in a serious tone, "does it hurt your nipples when you feed your baby milk?"  Mackenzie replied in an equally serious tone, "yes, me do!"  I have come to understand just how much children hear when you think they can't hear you from the other room.  I also realise that, at least in this case, this isn't a bad thing.  From observing my sister and I my girls have learned a lot such as a) nursing one's own baby and some realistic expectations such as pain being involved yet still its still being a good thing for Mommy and baby and b) sisters are great to talk to about anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-1080129344409169505?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/1080129344409169505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=1080129344409169505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1080129344409169505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1080129344409169505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/11/serious-adult-conversation.html' title='Serious Adult Conversation'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2215367874728245962</id><published>2008-11-07T19:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T19:24:59.336-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Babies</title><content type='html'>The pregnancy of my sister with her third child has raised a lot of questions, formulations, and memories (either real or unreal) from my eldest. While driving to the hospital tonight to visit our newest addition, Josiah, Taylor started talking to Mackenzie about being in my belly. She told Mackenzie that when she was in Mummy's belly that she talked to her. Taylor also asked Mackenzie if she remembered being in Mummy's belly and Taylor talking to her. Taylor said she told her, "hi, baby." Mackenzie piped up and added with her side of the story, "and I said hi. Hi, Taylor" in a babyish voice. - Later Taylor repeated to Andrea what I had explained to her, that babies can hear the voices of people around them when they are in their mummy's tummy and then they aren't scared when they come out of their mummy's tummy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2215367874728245962?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2215367874728245962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2215367874728245962&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2215367874728245962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2215367874728245962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/11/babies.html' title='Babies'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7427129916341088164</id><published>2008-10-21T08:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T08:35:24.192-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another One?</title><content type='html'>For today's tale I will start with some background information: my sister is expecting her third child any day now. This pregnancy has found her in Nova Scotia and my girls and I have been able to observe Andrea's growing belly and with permission, even touch her belly. Sunday, Mackenzie was on the couch with Andrea quite interested in where the baby was in her belly and pushing her little hand into Andrea's belly along side of Andrea's (and sometimes my) hand. This morning, as kids do, out of the blue, Mackenzie announces with certainly, "Mommy you're going to have a baby. And you and Daddy will go to the hospital and come home with a baby. And it'll be so..... cute. And I will have a little brother or little sister. I can't wait." My heart ached for her as I too once wanted a little brother or sister and I once thought I would have three children of my own. I only told her, "I don't think Mommy will be having any more babies." I didn't tell her, of course, about finances of raising children, birth control methods, or possible complications related to my recently found abnormal cells (further tests will tell). She doesn't need to know those aspects of life just yet. I wonder how she will be with her new cousin when he or she arrives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7427129916341088164?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7427129916341088164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7427129916341088164&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7427129916341088164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7427129916341088164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/10/another-one.html' title='Another One?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3932339083770293298</id><published>2008-10-20T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T16:56:05.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally, of Age</title><content type='html'>Every year I try to get formal photos taken to give the relatives an updated photo of the girls in their Christmas card. Every year it is a challenge to get them to both sit together and to look at the camera while not making an inappropriate facial gesture. This year, by golly, it worked. The girls were co-operative and smiled. Though I have no idea why Mackenzie wanted to pose with her duck toy rather than the deer Webkinz she drags around everywhere. He was in the car so it's not like she accidentally left him behind. Another thought, why is it that per pose, photos are cheaper to buy at Superstore than through the school, we have a half an hour for photos to be taken, we get to select from a variety of poses and suggest poses to be taken, and the pictures are ready the next day? I'm still waiting for Taylor's $16 school photos, one pose, one sheet of pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3932339083770293298?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3932339083770293298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3932339083770293298&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3932339083770293298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3932339083770293298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/10/finally-of-age.html' title='Finally, of Age'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-4081588882483762265</id><published>2008-10-15T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T14:37:35.377-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is It In the Genes?</title><content type='html'>When Taylor was little, just able to walk, she would find misplaced items in the store and insist on organizing them.  She would put all the pink gum together if a stray one was in the green and so on.  She also used to line things up at home:  spoons in a line, rubber ducks in a line, broach pins in a line, and so on.  Today she disappeared while I was warming supper and I naturally started to wonder what she was up to.  Surprisingly she was cleaning and organizing her room.  I had to give her a hug and tell her that was very responsible of her.  Her clean clothes have been stacked by her dresser for days and were still waiting to be put away.  However, her empty bunk bed, floor, and desk were cleared.  She had this comment, "I still have a lot to do and it's a lot of work."  -  I used to spontaneously clean and organize my bedroom too.  Odd, aren't we.  No, don't answer that.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-4081588882483762265?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/4081588882483762265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=4081588882483762265&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4081588882483762265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4081588882483762265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/10/is-it-in-genes.html' title='Is It In the Genes?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-1604294288356639142</id><published>2008-10-07T17:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T17:58:17.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy!</title><content type='html'>The clock radio went off waking me from a deep sleep and a bad dream.  I wasn't happy to get up again.  I needed more sleep; as usual.  I sat up and began my "old person stretches" or I'd be walking on my toes.  I had barely started when I heard Taylor begin screaming, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!"  I was glad to be awake already rather than be woken up by her hollering yet again.  She doesn't always wake up happy whether it is the fact that someone turned off her light before daylight, or her radio came on too loud or on a French station or some other offensive occurance.  I went and checked on her.  Peering into her room, I saw Taylor's red, tear-streaked face looking over the end of her upper loft bed.  "Mommy,"  she sobbed, "I didn't get to cuddle with you."  sniff.  "I kept looking at the clock and it said five but it never said six."  I had told her she could come in and snuggle with me after six am.  Many mornings she is awake before her or my alarm clock radio and has a chance to come in and snuggle.  This morning she never had the chance and for some unknown reason, it was an upsetting occurance.  I told her that she'd have to snuggle with me another time, after school, in the evening reading a book (she always wants my arm around her as we read), or another morning.  "Alright," she said as she resigned and recomposed herself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-1604294288356639142?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/1604294288356639142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=1604294288356639142&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1604294288356639142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1604294288356639142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/10/mommy.html' title='Mommy!'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-521312054544232155</id><published>2008-10-03T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T08:29:38.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy, I Don't Want to Get Bigger</title><content type='html'>In this mornings breakfast rush to eat and get to school on time, Mackenzie sat in her sparkly purple dress at the dinning room table, starring at the television with her big blue eyes, and announced, "Mommy, I don't want to get bigger.  I don't want to get married. I want to stay with you."  ah....  I remember having a similar conversation with my mother when I was about four years old.  Mom told me then that I would want to leave someday.  What I told Mackenzie was more selfish, "But I need you to grow up and take care of me when I'm older and pee my pants."  Taylor piped up and said, "You'll have to move in with us."  I told her she could put me in an old people's home.  :)  One needs to cherish these little moments in the fast pace of life.  They are far too few and often too soon forgotten.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-521312054544232155?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/521312054544232155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=521312054544232155&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/521312054544232155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/521312054544232155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/10/mommy-i-dont-want-to-get-bigger.html' title='Mommy, I Don&apos;t Want to Get Bigger'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8109669431200923193</id><published>2008-09-27T18:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T12:04:23.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy, you should...</title><content type='html'>With the colder weather upon us, the girls and I have been driving into the fog every morning as we head out of our subdivision and into town.  From one location on the road, it looks like my sister's subdivision is on an island surrounded by a mystical fog.  Well, I guess my eldest daughter listens to me for she threw back my own words at me the other day.  Mommy, do you have your lights on so you show up in the fog?  The front and the back ones?  It's nice to know she was listening as I explained how driving lights don't light up the back of the car, only the front.  I'm now sure I'm keen on her getting after me about it but at least we'll be safer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same week, Taylor had more advice for me.  She looked at me first thing in the morning and the first words out of her mouth were, "Mommy, you look tired.  You should go to bed earlier."  Ah, out of the mouth of babes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8109669431200923193?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8109669431200923193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8109669431200923193&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8109669431200923193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8109669431200923193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/09/mommy-you-should.html' title='Mommy, you should...'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2171743094426633182</id><published>2008-09-21T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T18:36:14.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Idiot Driver</title><content type='html'>We had changed our plans several times early this afternoon from going to Windsor Exhibition to Shubenacadie Wildlife Park to Victoria Park in Truro.  We decided that Daddy's asthma acting up would make an exhibition a bad place to go.  Enroute to Shubenacadie, Daddy asked if we'd like to go to Victoria Park.  I guess we should have stuck to our original plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a great time at the park.  Taylor climbed Jacob's ladder (all the way up and down) four times.  The rest of us went up once and then just cheered Taylor on.  We visited the falls and took some great shots along the way.  Mackenzie, of course, had to stop and pet every dog that passed:  "can I pet your dog?....what's it's name?"  At the top of one steep set of steps the girls watched a teenager going down a steep hill after his fallen belt.  His female friend told the girls that he was being bad going that way and to stick to the steps.  Mackenzie came back down the steps going on and on about "that bad teenager..."  We ended the day at the playground and then packed up to head for home around 5pm.  Daddy's breathing was acting up and he had forgotten to bring his puffers.  So we weren't going to stop at the Wildlife Park on the return trip but go straight home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of town, we heard a horn and while looking around at what it was about, bang.  Someone rear-ended us and then drove off.  I guess we should have stuck with our original plans for the day. While on our way to the police station to file our report, Mackenzie was commenting on the accident and I heard her use the phrase, "that idiot driver."  Now, I wonder where she's heard such a phrase before this day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2171743094426633182?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2171743094426633182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2171743094426633182&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2171743094426633182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2171743094426633182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/09/idiot-driver.html' title='Idiot Driver'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-849659378800521459</id><published>2008-08-25T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T15:28:42.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want More Milk</title><content type='html'>While having our usual bath together, Mackenzie started giving me a strange look then tried to latch on.  I told her, "there's no more milk left."  She told me, "I want more milk, chocolate milk.  You can put chocolate milk in there."  I had to ask her how since when I drink milk it goes into my tummy.  "Like this," and she traced a line from my mouth to my neck to my nipple.  She makes it seem so simple.  I'm surprised that she remembers nursing.  But then again, she was 27 months by the time I got her to stop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-849659378800521459?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/849659378800521459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=849659378800521459&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/849659378800521459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/849659378800521459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-want-more-milk.html' title='I Want More Milk'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8459495896774948301</id><published>2008-08-14T04:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T04:20:28.068-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Did You Have to Look Pretty?</title><content type='html'>I wasn't expecting these kinds of questions for a long, long, time.  However, Monday morning, Taylor was going through her clothes and came apon a pink and orange dress.  "Remember you said I looked pretty when I was in this dress, Mommy?"  "Yes."  A few minutes later, "Did you have to look pretty to find guy to love and marry?"  Oh boy.  How was I to answer that question?  I told her that when her dad and I met that we were just friends and that I wore clothes that I was comfortable in, that I usually wear.  But it is fun to dress up and look extra pretty for those you love and to feel extra pretty yourself.  This time I didn't add it, but it's a phrase I try to use for my girls self-esteem in this looks fixated society, "you look pretty in whatever you wear, even when you're naked."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8459495896774948301?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8459495896774948301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8459495896774948301&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8459495896774948301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8459495896774948301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/08/did-you-have-to-look-pretty.html' title='Did You Have to Look Pretty?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-9095355345309266282</id><published>2008-08-10T19:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T19:49:34.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Didn't Do It</title><content type='html'>Well, it was an enjoyable but exhausting weekend. I think it was our first camping trip this year with no rain - other than during the drive down. On our drive home the girls fell asleep and if it weren't for the fact that I was cold with the air conditioning on (to keep Warren alert), I would have been asleep to. Warren pulled into the driveway and then backed up with the back window blocked with camping gear. With my eyes closed I felt a slight bump, like when one puts the brakes on too quickly, and then we continued on, backing the newly, returned-to-our-use (no swing set on the back any more, after three years of storage) trailer into it's parking place. I opened my eyes to get out and start unloading and looked out my window at my car. "What did you do to my car?" I asked Warren, not knowing who had done the damage. In front of the passenger side door was a large, visible dent. This is not our year for cars. The thing is, no one will believe now that it wasn't me that put the dent there. Dents must be becoming common place for us for when I asked Taylor to look at what happened to my car, she walked bast the one foot dent three times before she noticed it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-9095355345309266282?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/9095355345309266282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=9095355345309266282&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/9095355345309266282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/9095355345309266282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-didnt-do-it.html' title='I Didn&apos;t Do It'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-994177352451731827</id><published>2008-08-10T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T19:41:17.059-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taylor Two-Wheels</title><content type='html'>Taylor began riding a two wheeler, with training wheels last summer.  We have a busy street and don't use our bikes nearly as often as we'd like.  Taylor did use her bike on a very long bike ride (6 km) on our first day at Keji in 2007 and a few tumbles on the uneven trail made her extra cautious.  I feared it was one step forward and two steps back.  This year we took her bike along more often: to Newfoundland, to Keji, to Shubie Campground, and to Jellystone.  At Shubie, Warren realised that Taylor wasn't using her training wheels at all, in fact they may be getting in the way.  He suggested taking them off but she wasn't up for it.  Well, this past weekend, Taylor, now being six years and two days old, decided to go for it.  She rode like she'd been riding a two-wheeler forever.  She did have a tumble later when Daddy suggested she wiggle her handle bars back in forth.  It was observed that she's likely not ready for anything fancy yet.  Fortunately she did get back on her bike again in spite of her vow to walk the rest of our weekend camping trip.  Daddy only complaint about Taylor doing so well is, "now we don't get to help teach her."  He missed out on teaching his first child to ride a bike and now he didn't have to teach his second.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-994177352451731827?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/994177352451731827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=994177352451731827&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/994177352451731827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/994177352451731827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/08/taylor-two-wheels.html' title='Taylor Two-Wheels'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-137292447008539938</id><published>2008-07-18T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T12:21:12.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Dreams</title><content type='html'>The night before our very early morning ferry crossing, Mackenzie was having trouble getting to sleep.  Daddy and I were in the washroom getting ready for bed ourselves and we could hear the girls bouncing around, especially Kenzie.  In typical Daddy form, he whipped open the bathroom door and in his mean voice, hollered, "Get to sleep!"  Well this scared and upset Mackenzie making it difficult still for her to get to sleep.  Now instead of being full of giggles and bounces she was full of sobs and her unfortunate, common comment, "I don't like Daddy."  Big sister Taylor went about doing her best to calm Mackenzie and sang to her with her sweet, quiet voice to calm her down, "Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep my..."  In the end, Taylor, in my sister's usual fashion when she was the same age, fell asleep herself way before Mackenzie did.  So when I reappeared into the room, Mackenzie climbed in with Daddy and myself, kissed me on the cheek, saying, "sweet dreams, you're sweet, don't let the bedbugs bite."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-137292447008539938?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/137292447008539938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=137292447008539938&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/137292447008539938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/137292447008539938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/07/sweet-dreams.html' title='Sweet Dreams'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3664248888572814630</id><published>2008-07-02T06:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T19:34:50.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah, Mommy</title><content type='html'>The day we had been waiting for had arrived. For two weeks I had been planning with my sister and mother for the eleven of us to go camping at Keji for five days. The longest spand of time I've spent in a tent with my own family. We were pumped. We had to wait for Taylor to finish school though at 10:30am Friday morning for her to pick up her report card. I figured mum and dad with no kids would arrive first and be able to pick out sites for the three families. Without working the night before and not having to wait for a child in school, I thought Andrea's family would also be ahead of us. Warren was working until 4pm but he intended to come down and join us Saturday as his eldest daughter was arriving by plane at 8:30pm Friday. I was dismayed that I had to get gas after picking Taylor up (late) and then return home to drop off her treat container (she had taken cupcakes for the class). Fortunately the girls were older and we didn't have to stop for a pee break. I did; however, miss the first exit and had to take a longer side route through Bridgewater before getting back on track. We were stopped at the first kiosk to get our people passes and then moved onto the campsite kiosk. I now had to use the washroom and had pulled over to the side by the kiosk for a pit stop before checking for messages on the bulletin board. I gave Taylor my cell phone and had her call Grammie who told us they were pulling in behind us. Soon afterwards, Andrea's crew arrived. They had driven in around the campsites and then came back to coincidentally join up with the rest of us. This was perfect timing in spite of delays and the weather was looking a lot better than had been fore casted. We found three sites in a row, paid our site fees, and were on our way. I was the first in the lead and had been given the site in the middle. Ever since pulling out of Mum and Dad's driveway in October I have been conscious about backing into parking spots when I can to make it safer pulling out of parking spots. Our car was packed to the roof and I couldn't see out the back window. I could only use my side mirrors and then the bikes' handle bars and wheels were blocking the view of trees in the angled driveway. I considered asking Taylor to hop out and direct me in but thought she might get in the way more than anything. I thought of waiting for the others to help me out but figured I was independent and could do this on my own. So slowly, barely tapping the gas to drive almost blindly, in reverse, uphill, and running on excitement, I backed in. There were trees on my right side and I wanted to leave room to walk by on the left. Watching the trees on my right I backed up a little bit, a little bit, a little bit more.... Then bump! Crack! Shatter! Warren's bike wheel had caught a tree (I wrecked his bike, bent frame etc.) and pushed the other bikes into the car. My bike's handle bars had pierced the bottom edge of the car's window and the safety glass had shattered. Needless to say, I was not impressed. This was the second of Warren's cars (he had the larger station wagon, suitable for camping) in less than six months. I haven't had a driving record like this in the 20 years I've held a driving licence. I phoned Warren right away and he wasn't happy either but seemed more bothered by the fact that it needed repaired in a week for us to drive to Newfoundland. Well...Warren found it was cheaper to buy an off-coloured door (we have a two-toned gray station wagon now) and install it himself than to replace the glass only. My brother-in-law helped me to clean up the glass shards and we had it all to the side in a tarp provided by mum by the time the clean up crew arrived. The clean up crew had been called in by a staff member driving by when I broke the window. The matter continued to haunt me and I was distraught by the fact that I had not the skills nor the financial means to fix my error myself but we carried on and went to the beach, hiking, canoeing, and more. Once, while returning from a walking spot we had to drive to, I backed into our site and Mackenzie, sitting behind me began to clap and cheer, "Yeah, Mommy. You didn't hit the tree!" I wasn't sure if I should laugh or be offended. I chose to laugh. Life's too short. To top things off, she did this a second time as well.  Oh brother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3664248888572814630?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3664248888572814630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3664248888572814630&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3664248888572814630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3664248888572814630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/07/yeah-mommy.html' title='Yeah, Mommy'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6523778210689971906</id><published>2008-06-12T04:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T04:44:44.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Too Flexible?</title><content type='html'>I don't know how she did it.  This morning as Taylor and I were rushing about trying to get ready to leave the house on time and Mackenzie was still in bed, Taylor sneezed a great sneeze.  A sneeze brought on by the colds all of us have.  Well, somehow when she sneezed she brought her right knee up and her head down.  Her mouth collided with her knee and blood was drawn.  Taylor had managed to hit her lip hard enough with her knee that her lip pierced her upper lip and set it to bleeding.   She wasn't impressed but I was.  I wouldn't be able to get my knee anywhere near enough to my lip to do that kind of damage.  Maybe there is such a thing as being too flexible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6523778210689971906?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6523778210689971906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6523778210689971906&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6523778210689971906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6523778210689971906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/06/too-flexible.html' title='Too Flexible?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3091736576891449092</id><published>2008-06-10T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T11:57:09.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Instructor's Demo Girl</title><content type='html'>As we arrived, late again, to Taylor and Mackenzie's swimming lessons, I was puzzled to be unable to spot Mackenzie's class in the little pool. Then I heard my name being called by the mother of one of Kenzie's classmates. They were over by the big pool, standing around the big slide. Mackenzie's instructor, Kayla, was standing in the cold, big pool ready to catch kids who were brave enough to go down the big slide for a fun event on their last day of lessons. Her helper was standing by the slide's steps to assist in climbing. I was both surprised and pleased that they were over here. One girl was in her mother's arms, clinging in apprehension of the task being asked of them. Owen, a little more brave, was holding onto his mother's leg but standing on his own. I walked to the edge of the pool and told the instructor that Mackenzie had just done this on the weekend and could go under, pop up, and swim to the side. Kayla asked Mackenzie if she wanted to go down the slide. Without hesitation and a big grin, Mackenzie went over to the slide, climbed up to the top of the big slide, slid down in a blur, plunged into the water of the pool, bobbed back up, put her head down into the water and swam to her instructor. You go girl! Mackenzie emerged from the pool with Kayla's help and came over to me, "Mommy, you proud of me?" "Yes. Give me a high five." Upon seeing Mackenzie go down the slide, Owen gained some confidence and removed himself from his mother, walked over to the slide, climbed up to the top, paused, then changed his mind in spite of coaxing, and climbed back down. Mackenzie beamed as her class changed activities and headed back to the usual little pool.  This day Mackenzie received her report on it was written, "  Mackenzie, you're an amazing swimmer, cutie!  Thanks so much for being my demonstrator all session long!  Good luck next time, hope you had as much fun as I did.  Kayla."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3091736576891449092?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3091736576891449092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3091736576891449092&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3091736576891449092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3091736576891449092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/06/instructors-demo-girl.html' title='Instructor&apos;s Demo Girl'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5303968962559215205</id><published>2008-06-10T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T11:28:45.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want One Too</title><content type='html'>On a road trip with Daddy we visited the Bargin Giant. A store full of junk or wonder depending on your point of view. Both girls have attained a thick, fuzzy Caillou blanket at this store. Our last visit included Taylor emerging with yet another pet of the stuffed toy variety, a toy tabby cat with a pink bow. Mackenzie wanted pretty much everything and ended up failing to make a choice. Weeks later she sadly revealed that she wanted a kitty like Taylor's and wanted Daddy to get one. Taylor in her new technology wisdom suggested Mommy send Daddy a picture of her toy kitty so that he might be able to buy one for Mackenzie too. Taylor is often offering her advice to solve problems as they arise; except for how to leave the house on time for school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5303968962559215205?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5303968962559215205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5303968962559215205&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5303968962559215205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5303968962559215205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-want-one-too.html' title='I Want One Too'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2423194610248452901</id><published>2008-06-10T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T11:24:21.019-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Hobby Through the Eyes of a Child</title><content type='html'>We've begun a new hobby this spring with a renewed interest in catching and looking at moths and butterflies and with the introduction of Painted-Lady butterfly caterpillars into Taylor's classroom. Our first identification challenge began with a moth Grammie handed to us in a jar commenting that it was the largest she'd seen and wondering if it was harmful to the environment. It was the twin-spotted Sphinx. Next we came across a pink and cream-coloured fuzzy looking moth perked on our door frame. It was the Rudy Maple Moth. My moth and identification book helped identify the first but not the second. Thanks Google. Taylor is full of questions about these critters. When do they come out (night or day), what do the eggs look like, what do they eat, how long do they live and so forth. I'm learning more than I ever took interest in learning before. Life through the eyes of child can be rather intriguing and even awe-inspiring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2423194610248452901?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2423194610248452901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2423194610248452901&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2423194610248452901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2423194610248452901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/06/new-hobby-through-eyes-of-child.html' title='New Hobby Through the Eyes of a Child'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-4090183716705677798</id><published>2008-06-08T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T11:55:56.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Murder or Accident?</title><content type='html'>Mackenzie and Mommy were home one day, doing laundry and other things. Mommy left the second load of laundry in to soak while she hung out the first. When she returned, at first glance, something didn't look right in the washer. So before closing the lid and letting the cycle continue, she took a second look. "Mackenzie, come here!" Mommy had something to show Mackenzie, something they usually found outside under rotten logs and rocks. There on top of Mackenzie's fleece sheets was a red-backed salamander. Mommy went and got the camera for a photo would help to retell the story later. Photos done, Mackenzie and Mommy tried to get the salamander out of the wash tub. Mommy got a fish net and a small fish container and tried to coax the salamander into either one, closing in from front and back. The sly salamander dove under the water. Mommy was glad she hadn't added borax to her whites this time. After poking some clothes this way and that, Mommy decided to let the salamander climb out on its own like it did the last time and went to phone Daddy. Contemplating how the salamander got there, Mommy decided the salamander must have been in the fallen sheet that was fetched from the puddle in the backyard - the backyard and put back into the wash. Daddy suggested taking the laundry out one piece at a time. So... back to the laundry room an hour later and no sign of a salamander. Mommy picked up the empty laundry basket and started carefully pulling pieces of laundry out of the tub, one piece at a time, dripping water everywhere for she dare not wring out any laundry. Upon removal and inspection of each article of laundry, still no salamander, just a need for a mop and rubber boots to get around the laundry room. So Mommy started the washer draining, watching the water closely, and stopping it every few seconds. No sign of the salamander. Mommy then decided to recheck the wet laundry and put it back in one piece at a time, inspecting corners and all sides. No salamander. Sigh. Mackenzie and Mommy were getting worried. Where did it go? Where could it go? What could they do? Mommy started the washer up again, new water and new soap, no borax for her mud-stained sheet. It was soon time to rush off and get Taylor from school. When Taylor appeared at the car Mum told Taylor the story about the salamander in the wash and then realised something. Uh oh. Maybe the slim salamander went through the holes and into the filter. Thinking out loud brought chastisement from Taylor, "Mommy, you shouldn't have done that!" The salamander was likely drowned now. Something only scooping the water from the laundry tub would have helped. Arriving home, Mommy checked the washer filter and was more than dismayed at seeing the pale head of the missing salamander amongst the lint. And Taylor had wanted to keep it for a pet. What was the worse fate? Doing laundry will never be the same again; especially laundry that has fallen into the backyard mud hole.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-4090183716705677798?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/4090183716705677798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=4090183716705677798&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4090183716705677798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4090183716705677798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/06/murder-or-accident.html' title='Murder or Accident?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7026420885634220817</id><published>2008-06-02T07:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T07:59:23.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Water Rat</title><content type='html'>On Saturday, 30 May 2008, Daddy decided that he wanted Mackenzie to go off the diving board before she's four. Taylor went off the diving board and rope at the pool when she was four. Well, with coaxing Mackenzie stood in line with her sister for the diving board while Mommy waited in the pool (Mommy was in the pool because Daddy can't tread water.) Mackenzie walked to the end of the board without hesitation and then backed up, came forward again, and backed up right off the board. She did; however, jump in behind Mommy from the side of the pool while Mommy was looking the other way watching Taylor. Mackenzie didn't go far from the edge and bobbed up in her usual fashion and soon climbed out to go back in the warm pool with Daddy. A little later, Mackenzie stood in line again for the diving board. Taylor stood behind her and Daddy was beside her. Mommy was still in the cold pool. Mackenzie again walked right to the end, but not as closely to the end. We coaxed and reassured her but she wasn't ready and backed up. The young teens in the line were quite patient waiting in line. Daddy reached out a hand to Mackenzie and she grabbed on expecting to be lifted off the board and clung on. Daddy shook her loose and Mackenzie landed in the pool next to Mommy. She wasn't upset at this landing in the pool but soon climbed out. Next Daddy encouraged Mackenzie to try the big slide. Mommy was trying to spot Taylor as kids under the age of 9 are to be "within arms reach of a responsible adult." Mommy noticed Kenzie on the top of the slide and dove under the line around the bottom of the slide. Soon after catching a smiling Mackenzie, a lifeguard informed Mommy that kids aren't allowed on the slide unless they can swim outside the ring by themselves. Mommy told the lifeguard that Mackenzie could if she wanted too. Mommy tried to find Taylor in the pool as Daddy called, "you better hurry." For Mackenzie was at the top of the slide again, determined to go down. Mommy was less than thrilled that she hadn't been redirected back to the warm pool. But, true to form, Mackenzie slid down the big slide into the pool and without hesitation put her face into the water and swam outside of the ring to Mommy. So there Mister Lifeguard. Now can we put her back in the nice safe kiddy pool?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7026420885634220817?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7026420885634220817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7026420885634220817&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7026420885634220817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7026420885634220817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/06/water-rat.html' title='Water Rat'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8466708666270746304</id><published>2008-05-28T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T19:25:43.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where's Taylor?</title><content type='html'>This past weekend Taylor went to Sparks camp where she professes to have had a hundred, kadrillion, million funs.  Whatever that number is.  When asked what she liked best, she said, all of it.  The entire family drove the hour to take her there Friday night and stayed long enough at campfire for Mommy to learn a new song (black socks, and it annoys daddy) and to smell like smoke.  Saturday morning, Mommy heard the squeak of Mackenzie door, the padding of her footsteps, followed by her call, "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor.  Taylor where are you?"  Mommy had to update her as Daddy was already gone to work at 7:30am.  Once Mackenzie was informed or reminded where Taylor was she was fine and denied missing Taylor whenever asked.  Hey, she got to have both Mommy and Daddy to herself at the family swim, and to play with Taylor's friend Oliva without any jealousy being an issue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8466708666270746304?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8466708666270746304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8466708666270746304&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8466708666270746304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8466708666270746304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/05/wheres-taylor.html' title='Where&apos;s Taylor?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-480961129168912119</id><published>2008-05-04T17:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T17:19:21.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's That?</title><content type='html'>I am forever teasing my husband that he has a cartoon outfit in that he wears the same thing everyday. In cooler weather he wears a t-shirt under a denim shirt with black or blue jeans, all well worn, and with a black leather belt. In warmer weather he removes the denim shirt. It is only in the last two years that I have seen him wear shorts and he only owned one pair until I bought him two more. He also favors only two pairs of shoes and one of two jackets; leather for warmer weather, Columbia jacket for winter. One can never accuse him of spending too much on clothing; especially since his second-hand-clothing store skilled mother finds him and buys him most of his clothes; including new socks and underwear. So to continue with the story now that the necessary background is covered.... the other day my husband steps into the kitchen where our daughters are doing their usual, watching tv. Mackenzie points to my husband and asks, "what's that?" He looked around not knowing what she was referring to and after some repetition of the question, "what's that?" he came to realise what she was talking about. He had delved further back into the recesses of his closet and came out with something from his 10% category. Something outside his typical clothing. He was wearing not a denim shirt but a polo shirt. When a three year old comments on your clothing using the terms, "what's that?" I think maybe one should consider the fact that their clothing is predictable. But then, so what? However, I still find it hilarious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-480961129168912119?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/480961129168912119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=480961129168912119&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/480961129168912119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/480961129168912119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/05/whats-that.html' title='What&apos;s That?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3019976454955454517</id><published>2008-04-30T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T10:20:45.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Female Superhero Shortage</title><content type='html'>My nephew's third birthday was coming and he wanted to have a super hero party. This is a very popular theme in my nephew's home. The last time my girls dressed as princesses. This time I wanted to make them a super hero costume. Then came the challenge; trying to find a female super hero that was predominant and not vague in her moral character and didn't get on my nerves. That left out The Powder Puff Girls, The Power Rangers, Poison Ivy, Cat Woman, Supergirl (who?). I didn't want them dressing like Zena Warrior Princess or She-Ra though I suppose I could add more cloth to their usual costumes. And the girls weren't interested in being Invisigirl or Elastigirl. That left Wonder Woman, my heroine of years and years ago. And the girls actually knew who she was thanks to watching retro cartoons. Retro. shudder. Way to feel old. So we managed to throw outfits together for both girls as they both wanted to be Wonder Woman. The most difficult part was finding star stickers. So, they arrived at the party and the two other girls there were dressed as a princess, and Wonder Woman. Girls today, apparently, are in desperate need of female super heroes to look up to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3019976454955454517?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3019976454955454517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3019976454955454517&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3019976454955454517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3019976454955454517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/04/female-superhero-shortage.html' title='Female Superhero Shortage'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-5884852987271802408</id><published>2008-04-16T06:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T06:30:09.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Money</title><content type='html'>I had no idea this year that when my daughter went to school this year that it would cost me more money than I had been spending on a sitter.  I had expected to save money.  Ha!  I only had to hand over twenty dollars for school supplies but then it was book orders (I'm a sucker for children's books), hot lunch and milk orders, fund raisers (magazine subscriptions and coffe), green Christmas, and school photos.  Silly me, I thought school photos were only in the fall but now they have spring ones as well.  And well...instead of writing a note and saying this is just another way to solicit money so I won't give my daughter permission to have her picture taken, I signed the form.  Now she brings home her proofs and it's so.... cute.  What parent doesn't like photos of their kid, even when they're crying?  So, out I fork more money to send photos to the grandparents.  And with a divorce in the mix that isn't two pictures, that's three.  Then I'd like one for the half sister who lives in another province, one for my daughter of course for her memory album, and me.  I think my sister had many reasons for deciding to home school her children, and this is one of them.  Don't we pay taxes so our kids can go to school for free?  Yet we send in boxes of tissues, wrapping paper, photo copy paper, and I drive my daughter to and from school because there is no busing for French Immersion.  Money, money, money, always money, in a rich man's world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-5884852987271802408?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/5884852987271802408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=5884852987271802408&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5884852987271802408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/5884852987271802408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/04/more-money.html' title='More Money'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-7631876267254199731</id><published>2008-04-08T05:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T05:37:09.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Now We Can Go!</title><content type='html'>On Sunday both the girls had a long chat with Grandma on the phone about what they wanted to do when they go visit her in early June.  Trying to explain when we were going proved difficult.  We told Taylor another 87 days or three pages on the calendar, when school is over, and it's warm outside.  Mackenzie, as a three year old, was more difficult to explain to.  Monday morning Mackenzie was in the flyer getting dressed to take Taylor to school when she started getting excited, "now we can go to Grandma's.  There's no snow."  Oh dear.  Time is going to go very slowly for Mackenzie as she waits for her trip to Newfoundland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-7631876267254199731?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/7631876267254199731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=7631876267254199731&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7631876267254199731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/7631876267254199731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/04/now-we-can-go.html' title='Now We Can Go!'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-4641707451206912367</id><published>2008-03-26T05:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T11:10:20.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JUST A MOM?  (email forward)</title><content type='html'>A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk 's office,&lt;br /&gt;was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What I mean is, " explained the recorder,   &lt;br /&gt;"do you have a job or are you just a ...?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Of course I have a job," snapped the woman.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm a Mom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation,&lt;br /&gt;'housewife' covers it,"&lt;br /&gt;Said the recorder emphatically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself&lt;br /&gt;in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.   &lt;br /&gt;The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised,&lt;br /&gt;efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like,&lt;br /&gt;"Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is your occupation?" she probed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What made me say it?  I do not know.   &lt;br /&gt;The words simply popped out.   &lt;br /&gt;"I'm a Research Associate in the field of&lt;br /&gt;Child Development and Human Relations."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in m midair and&lt;br /&gt;looked up as though she had not heard right.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words.&lt;br /&gt;Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written,&lt;br /&gt;in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest,&lt;br /&gt;"just what you do in your field?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice,&lt;br /&gt;I heard myself reply,&lt;br /&gt;"I have a continuing program of research,&lt;br /&gt;(what mother doesn't)&lt;br /&gt;In the laboratory and in the field,&lt;br /&gt;(normally I would have said indoors and out).   &lt;br /&gt;I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)&lt;br /&gt;and already have four credits (all daughters). &lt;br /&gt;Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities,&lt;br /&gt;(any mother care to disagree?)&lt;br /&gt;and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).   &lt;br /&gt;But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers&lt;br /&gt;and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she&lt;br /&gt;completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career,&lt;br /&gt;I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. &lt;br /&gt;Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model,&lt;br /&gt;(a 6 month old baby) in the child development program,&lt;br /&gt;testing out a new vocal pattern.   &lt;br /&gt;I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! &lt;br /&gt;And I had gone on the official records as someone more&lt;br /&gt;distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mom."   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Motherhood!   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a glorious career!   &lt;br /&gt;Especially when there's a title on the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does this make grandmothers&lt;br /&gt;"Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human&lt;br /&gt;Relations"&lt;br /&gt;And great grandmothers&lt;br /&gt;"Executive Senior Research Associates?"   &lt;br /&gt;I think so!!!   &lt;br /&gt;I also think it makes Aunts "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Associate Research Assistants."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-4641707451206912367?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/4641707451206912367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=4641707451206912367&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4641707451206912367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4641707451206912367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/just-mom-email-forward.html' title='JUST A MOM?  (email forward)'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6985821664353990193</id><published>2008-03-25T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T11:46:37.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pool Crasher</title><content type='html'>Easter Monday came and I needed a way to keep us away from the candy and baked goods and to burn off some energy so we headed to the sports stadium for a workout and a dip in the pool. I picked the girls up at the daycare and we headed for the pool to meet up with their cousins. As usual, Mackenzie was so excited to get in and got herself dressed in her suit in record time; beating me. We put our towels on the counter, showered, and headed for the water, each of us picking up our own towels as we went. Also as usual, Mackenzie headed for the edge of the pool and fearlessly jumped in. Then she held up her right hand and looked at me puzzled; she still had her hooded animal towel in her hand, now sopping wet. Good thing I always take a bath sheet rather than a towel; enough to share with a friend or daughter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6985821664353990193?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6985821664353990193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6985821664353990193&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6985821664353990193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6985821664353990193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/pool-crasher.html' title='Pool Crasher'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-4902389380694541644</id><published>2008-03-25T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T11:40:32.797-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silly Bunny</title><content type='html'>This was the first year that Easter and more specifically, the Easter egg hunt, meant something to both my girls. Taylor was advising Mackenzie on where to look for eggs. She says the Easter bunny can be tricky and likes to hide things up high like on the top of the pictures. In the morning, the girls slept in until 8am. Taylor had to wait a grueling 30 minutes for Mackenzie to wake up. The second Mackenzie awoke, they were on their way. They searched the upper floor then, missing many eggs on the way, they went to the basement to check the laundry room. They found one chocolate egg and headed toward the window ledge for the pink chicken egg. The second they approached the motion sensor detection window, beep, beep, beep.... I had to stop my movie making and run to turn off the alarm. They alarm monitor person thought it was funny and asked how the Easter bunny managed to not set the alarm off. Taylor asked the same question and then decided it must have been magic. That shock over with, and the basement searched, the girls retraced their steps and found more eggs they had overlooked. Mackenzie found a Cadbury egg in her winter boot and bent over, hands on hips, laughing, "silly bunny!" She is still telling everyone she meets about the Easter bunny putting an egg in her boot. Now I just wish they would stop asking me how many days until the next Easter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-4902389380694541644?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/4902389380694541644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=4902389380694541644&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4902389380694541644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4902389380694541644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/silly-bunny.html' title='Silly Bunny'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2840526406967878076</id><published>2008-03-22T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T10:45:09.979-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Non-Competetor</title><content type='html'>More and more, Taylor exhibits some unfortunate traits of my own.  sigh.  For the last four weeks of skating lessons she has been asking, "is this the last one?" and saying with conviction, "I don't want to go."  I used to love skating lessons, I just never liked  the competition or the grand show off event at the end.  At least she doesn't have to endure that.  Well, the last day of lessons came and she was most excited to receive her level two badge; however, she also had to ask, "is this the last day?  Can I not go to lessons any more and just go after school?"  Works for me.  She's in enough activities now and it's rather cold for me to sit and wait in the arena for her for an hour.  Here's for moving onto warmer activities.  But are swimming lessons really warmer?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2840526406967878076?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2840526406967878076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2840526406967878076&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2840526406967878076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2840526406967878076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/non-competetor.html' title='Non-Competetor'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8048326461932364517</id><published>2008-03-22T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T10:39:36.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Getting Smart!</title><content type='html'>Taylor announced to me the other day, "I'm getting smart.  I know lots of things about penguins, and seals, and...."  She has taken to asking about the animals she sees on tv and in books and I have to opportunity to check out books on the library about the animals.  I have to admit, I'm getting smarter too for I now know lots of things about seahorses, seals, penguins ...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8048326461932364517?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8048326461932364517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8048326461932364517&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8048326461932364517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8048326461932364517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/im-getting-smart.html' title='I&apos;m Getting Smart!'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-2603803013737057161</id><published>2008-03-22T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T10:37:23.337-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Opportunity or Disappointment?</title><content type='html'>Over March Break, Taylor was given the opportunity to go with her cousin to Kindermusik. Her aunt was teaching and able to get her two children in in exchange. She opted to trade her youngest for my eldest, thus giving Taylor a chance to try it out. For the week before Taylor was pleading not to go. Finally when asking why she didn't want to go, she said she was too shy. She didn't seemed convinced that it would be OK even though she had attended one class before at the library and that both her cousin and aunt would be there. The night before she was excited when told that Grammie had made capes for all the kids who were going including a pink one. What a turn-around in attitude! Well she had a blast the first day though my sister said she was hard to read as she is very quiet. But Taylor was very happy when she got home and excited to go the next day and the next. She was not happy when on the third day she wasn't allowed to stay all day like the other kids. My sister only kept them there in the mornings. Then there was none on the fourth day. That evening Taylor wanted to know when her cousin could sleep over. Well, I began, he can't stay over tonight because he has Kindermusik in the morning. Her face lit up as she asked, "am I going too?" Her face fell just as dramatically when I told her, "no, you just got to go to the camp and he's going to his regular classes." She then wanted to know if she could sign up too. When told she's already signed up for a lot of activities she wanted to know if she could take it in the summer. The poor thing, for it isn't offtered in the summer. She seems content, for now, with my promise to look into it. I'll have to check the website soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-2603803013737057161?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/2603803013737057161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=2603803013737057161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2603803013737057161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/2603803013737057161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/opportunity-or-disappointment.html' title='Opportunity or Disappointment?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8615813548613173890</id><published>2008-03-18T08:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T10:28:53.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy's Going to Be Mad</title><content type='html'>On Sunday, my husband found a table and chairs for sale that are similar to our own. When it comes to family dinners we often don't have enough chairs to go around. So he went and snatched these five up at $6.00 a chair. They aren't as sturdy as the ones we have so he took our youngest and went off to buy some good wood glue before taking on the challenge of gluing them back together. He wrote me at work to say, "Two of the chairs have had the legs removed and glued back in place. Kenzie thought you would be mad that the chairs were apart. She said it was silly when I got her to sit on one of them with no legs." It's funny how little one's minds work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8615813548613173890?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8615813548613173890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8615813548613173890&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8615813548613173890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8615813548613173890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/mommys-going-to-be-mad.html' title='Mommy&apos;s Going to Be Mad'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3958321841383401084</id><published>2008-03-15T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T18:38:09.622-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Are My Cousins?</title><content type='html'>What is in a name, a title? On Wednesday afternoon past, friends came over for a visit. The mom's used to chat while the older girls played together, usually in the Burger King playroom. Our second children hadn't been born yet. We have invited them to all our birthday parties and have made a point of getting together on a regular basis. While they were visiting on Wednesday, Kenzie fell asleep on the rec room floor. Our company left and then it was time to go to Taylor's skating lessons. I scooped Kenzie up and she awoke when we arrived at the stadium. When we returned back home, "you-hoo!" Mackenzie called and then turned to me in bewilderment and asked, "Where are my cousins?" Puzzled, it took me a moment or two before I asked her, "Do you mean Joy and Hope?" "Yes," she answered. I guess, closeness isn't in being related but in time spent together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3958321841383401084?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3958321841383401084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3958321841383401084&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3958321841383401084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3958321841383401084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/where-are-my-cousins.html' title='Where Are My Cousins?'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6890250504615362699</id><published>2008-03-03T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T08:10:17.294-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Prescription Medication for Dummies</title><content type='html'>For three nights in a row, my youngest daughter, Mackenzie, has been running a fever hovering around 40 degrees Celcius.  It's odd, but she hasn't had a fever in the day time other than Sunday afternoon.  So, my husband was going to take her to the walkin clinic on Sunday afternoon while I was at work but Mackenzie slept all afternoon and when I got home it was too late to go.  This morning I thought I'd have an excuse to get out of going to the gym but her temperature was normal, 37.2.  So off we went.  She did her usual things of watching tv, sitting in my lap, joining me in the shower, and then getting speedily ready to go pick Taylor up at school.  Mackenzie, like usual, fell asleep on the way to school and keep on sleeping even when I moved her into bed once we got back home at 3pm.  At 4pm it was time to get her ready for swimming so Daddy went in to get her.  She was a bit whinney but who isn't when they are woken up (even though daddy said he didn't wake her).  We packed up and took off, late for lessons.  While dressing Mackenzie in her swimsuit I realized she was hot to the touch, again.  She tried lessons anyway but unlike herself she got upset about being splashed and wouldn't blow bubbles.  Ten minutes later, I scooped her up in a towel, then rinsed her off and dressed her for home.  At 6pm we found ourselves on the way to the walkin clinic.  Mackenzie slept the entire way there and on my shoulder in the waiting room.  In the exam room she woke up wanted a drink of water and saying she was too hot; so she dramk from the tap and stripped out of her coat and shirt.  Once examined, ears, chest, and throat I learned that her cough wasn't the problem, her lungs were fine but she has strep throat.  Oh dear.  I just wanted to be put out of my misery when I had that.  But she wasn't complaining about her throat.  Hmmm.  Oh, uh.  What about the kids at daycare?  Guess it'll be a sick day for work.  We got her prescription filled and put it in the cart under the infant seat for she was back to sleep again.  I then picked up oralgel for Taylor who is getting her new teeth coming in front of her baby teeth and she finds it rather painful.  I had to pay for my second purchase at another cashier.  When leaving, I scooped Mackenzie and my second package up, forgetting the first with the prescription medication in it and our reason for being here.  It was under the infant seat and I couldn't see it.  Halfway to the car, I remembered it.  I hoped no one had noticed my oversight.  I went back in the indoor, carrying my sleeping three year old, my purse, and my second package.  On my way I had to pass the magazine and book section.  On the end of the display, in a bright yellow with black was one of the For Dummies series, "Prescription Medication for Dummies."  I thought this quite funny.  -  I better go for Mackenzie crawled out of bed and came looking for me and is now passed out at the top of the stairs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6890250504615362699?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6890250504615362699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6890250504615362699&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6890250504615362699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6890250504615362699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/03/prescription-medications-for-dummies.html' title='Prescription Medication for Dummies'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-383196538021143608</id><published>2008-02-14T07:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T07:56:16.630-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Quiz</title><content type='html'>That seemed to be very, very easy even without taking notes and only took me about 10 minutes.  I wish quizes were that easy going through school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-383196538021143608?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/383196538021143608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=383196538021143608&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/383196538021143608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/383196538021143608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/quiz.html' title='The Quiz'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6869007956372274700</id><published>2008-02-14T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T04:40:31.714-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thing #23:  Twitter - the final thing</title><content type='html'>Instant messaging "stuff" again.  sigh.  As I said before, I have no patience for instant messaging.  Use the phone.  What happened to that personal contact?  I can understand instant messaging's purpose if one has to contact serveral people quickly like when the storm cancelled my Pampered Chef party last week but many if not all of those people don't have instant messaging.  Instant messaging is just encouraging and further developing the growing trend of "I want it now" in today's society.  We have fast food, faster cleaning products (that create more waste and harm to the environment), priority post, quick fixes, etc.  What happened to taking your time to do the job right or looking forward to the moment or savoring the present time?  I don't want an instant message Valentine greeting, a fast food meal, and virtual flowers for Valentine's Day this year.  It leaves something missing.  Rush, rush, rush.  Like in a song I like,  "I'm in a hurry to get things done.  I rush and rush until life's no fun.  All I gotta do is live and die but I'm in a hurry and don't know why."  I'm also wondering what gets left out when their is no body language or intonation to help interpret what one is saying.  I know that I have often been misinterpreted in email without those two key elements.  I've heard that 20% or meaning is in our body language.  Smilies can't make up for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twitter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes!  I'm finished all the challenges!  Can't say I'll remember enough to complete the quiz though.  I should have taken more and organized my notes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6869007956372274700?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6869007956372274700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6869007956372274700&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6869007956372274700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6869007956372274700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/thing-23-twitter.html' title='Thing #23:  Twitter - the final thing'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-4404816188111575534</id><published>2008-02-14T06:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T06:58:24.081-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thing 21 and 22:  Meebo</title><content type='html'>I found I couldn't do much with Thing 21 to try out meebo without going onto visit HRL Meebo chat room.  It figures that once I take the time to go there and for once in my life try instant messaging, that there is no one there.  But I'm used to talking to myself.  But typing is more time consuming and I can listen to the lilt of my voice.  LOL  Seriously, I have no patience for instant messaging.  I'll use the phone if I want to talk to friends or family and email or facebook allows us to exchange communication without being available at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://blog.meebo.com/about&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-4404816188111575534?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/4404816188111575534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=4404816188111575534&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4404816188111575534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/4404816188111575534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/thing-21-and-22-meebo.html' title='Thing 21 and 22:  Meebo'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-8844888792434017630</id><published>2008-02-14T06:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T06:45:52.091-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thing #20:  Folksonomy part one</title><content type='html'>The Wikipedia site describes Folksonomy as the practice and method of collaboratively creating and mangaing tags to annotate and categoize content.  This method of tagging makes a body of information increasingly easy to search, discover, and navigate over time.  Folksonomy enable Web users to label and share user-generated content, such as photographs, or to collaboratively label existing content, such as Web sites, books, works in the scientific and scholarly literatures, and blog entries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Term folksonomy is generally attributed to Thomas Vander Wal.  It is a portmanteau of the words folk and taxonomy that specifiaclly refers to subject indexing systems created within Internet communities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Folksonomy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not sure how to find "a folksonomy" in order to describe it here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-8844888792434017630?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/8844888792434017630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=8844888792434017630&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8844888792434017630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/8844888792434017630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/thing-20-folksonomy-part-one.html' title='Thing #20:  Folksonomy part one'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-3708457927804367402</id><published>2008-02-14T06:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T06:26:55.569-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thing #19:  Friend Someone</title><content type='html'>I have done this already using facebook.  Facebook did cause me some trouble though when a stranger was able to read, copy, and forward my communication.  I have since learned that there are many privacy settings so that various information can be seen by everyone/friends only/ or only me.  I have also learned that wireless conncections and public computers increase the risk of privacy breeches.  Facebook also told me that no one should be able to read my email unless they have access to my account or the person I am corresponding with.  I am also able to block certain people.  There are many privacy features in other online services as well such as blogspot.  In my blogspots, I have one that is viewable by everyone, and three that are by invitation only.  I have also discovered there that I can invite up to 100 authors to my blogspots which is very useful for members of my girls' night group.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-3708457927804367402?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/3708457927804367402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=3708457927804367402&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3708457927804367402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/3708457927804367402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/thing-19-friend-someone.html' title='Thing #19:  Friend Someone'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-710576664624556353</id><published>2008-02-13T05:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T05:50:05.008-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy's Nurse</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was beginning to feel what Taylor was complaining of Monday, crampy stomach, nausous, and just plain tired.  I left the girls in front of the tv and went to bed.  Taylor (who is 5 years old) came in shortly after telling me they would be in the kitchen if I needed anything to just yell and they would empty the throw up bowl if I needed them too.  She also went and got a stool so she could close the blind and the curtains, saying, "there, is that like night time?"  She then left shutting the bedroom door behind her.  Minutes later she came in saying, I thought I'd get you some books in case you'd like to read.  She then went to my bookshelf and filled a container with my books and placed them beside me on the bed, "Are these your favorites?"  Mackenzie also ran in carrying what they called bedtime books from her own bookshelf.  Again, Taylor left with Mackenzie, returning shortly after, "Here's the lamby (the hot water bottle) in case your tummy hurts."  Again, she left, and a little more time passed before she returned with Mackenzie at her heals, "Mommy, here's a get-well card for you."  They had both made one.  Then they left and didn't return for over an hour.  At that time they returned saying, "We're bored and hungry."  So I got up and hurried through getting their supper and putting them to bed.  I felt weak but better after my rest and Taylor's care.  Where did she ever learn to bed so empathetic?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-710576664624556353?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/710576664624556353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=710576664624556353&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/710576664624556353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/710576664624556353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/mommys-nurse.html' title='Mommy&apos;s Nurse'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-28649835949570275</id><published>2008-02-09T08:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T08:59:11.265-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Skating Pro</title><content type='html'>I have been taking Mackenzie skating Friday mornings since October 2007.  We usually only lasted on the ice for about 20 minutes and during that time Mackenzie was usually being pushed on a chair by me.  "Faster, faster!" she'd ask.  For the last month she has been taking her chair support and hitting the ice before I have my skates on.  Also, for the last month I have been taking Taylor along as well, switching from morning skates to the after school skates.  Both have been gaining in self-confidence and can now out-skate me.  Yesterday, Mackenzie abandoned the chair minutes after getting onto the ice and only the last five minutes was being pushed around on a chair.  She even skated once around the entire rink with me.  She has also learned to get back up without holding onto anyone or anything when she does fall down.  Now, now, I have to learn to skate again.  My two girls don't need me any more and without pushing one of them on a chair, I no longer have it to hold myself up.  I had to send Taylor after Mackenzie once when she crossed the barrier between the beginning skaters and the practiced skaters.  I just can't keep up.  However, we are all getting better.  I can now stand up after a session on the ice for my legs are no longer reduced to jello.  They are ;however, frozen for I'm not skating as quickly as I could while using a chair to hold myself up.  As for Mackenzie, she has declared, once again, "I'm a big girl now.  I'm five.  Are you proud of me?"  We must invest in a proper hockey helmet with a cage for she just skates full out.  Even the supervisor commented that she could use a caged helmet for "she has no fear and she's cute as a button so I'd hate to see her fall on her face."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-28649835949570275?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/28649835949570275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=28649835949570275&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/28649835949570275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/28649835949570275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/skating-pro.html' title='Skating Pro'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-6007224005149777497</id><published>2008-02-07T08:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T08:13:39.568-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things #17 and #18</title><content type='html'>Thing #17 says to try flickr.  I set up an account but I do not have photos of my own at work to use flickr at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing #18 requests that participants "tag" something.  I have tagged people in photos on my facebook account.  I hope this counts.  This tagging helps to share with others with brief clicks rather than forwarding something that requires a lot of memory.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-6007224005149777497?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/6007224005149777497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=6007224005149777497&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6007224005149777497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/6007224005149777497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/things-17-and-18.html' title='Things #17 and #18'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-1008689942493334875</id><published>2008-02-05T16:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T17:03:42.304-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy Sandwich</title><content type='html'>Way.....back when I was single (about 12 years ago) my bed often seemed to be very cold and lonely.  I now long to have some space to myself even after moving up from a single mattress to a queen.  Sunday night I was awoken by the slow creak... of my bedroom door which was then followed by a click with its closing, the pitter patter of bare feet, and tense silence as my little one stood next to the bed waiting to be addressed.  "Hi."  "Mommy can I come in with you?"  As Taylor crawled in we had the usual exchange of I had a nightmare, what was it about, and I don't know, before we both succumed to sleep again.  Sharing my bed with my girls is such a regular occurance that I don't always wake up when they do climb in.  An unknown amount of time passed before I was rudely awakened by a smaller someone climbing up over the bed and me.  "Hi, Kenzie."  "Hi, Mommy." she replied as she roughly wedged herself in between her father and I.  Now I lay between Mackenzie, on the left, and Taylor, on the right, making me the sandwich filling to this family submarine.  The rest of the night was a bit rough.  One arm was pinned under Taylor's head, at her request, and was falling asleep.  I was also incredibly hot wedged between two young ones with high metabolisms.  The limited space was hurting my hips so I rolled over on my side to release the pressure.  Oh, to have my bed to myself again.  But for now, they are both still so very little and still want to cuddle with Mommy.  I shall take their affections while they are still willing to give them.  In addition to this, they are both sick at the moment and only Mommys will do.  But when is there cuddle time for Mommy and Daddy?  And how much bigger do they have to grow before someone is falling out of the bed?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-1008689942493334875?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/1008689942493334875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=1008689942493334875&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1008689942493334875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/1008689942493334875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/mommy-sandwich.html' title='Mommy Sandwich'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7786152350599878405.post-108465418922484354</id><published>2008-02-03T12:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T12:19:35.755-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thing #9 &amp; 10 Capture an RSS feed</title><content type='html'>Yes!!!  Thanks to help from a co-worker (here's to quiet Sundays and helpful co-workers) I have completed thing 9 and 10, capture Challenge 2.0 and an RSS feed.  I can see how this could save a frequent internet user a lot of time closing and opening windows switching from one site to another.  Where has this feature been all my web-surfing life? But then I just learned about control tab in firefox...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7786152350599878405-108465418922484354?l=tayziesplace.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/feeds/108465418922484354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7786152350599878405&amp;postID=108465418922484354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/108465418922484354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7786152350599878405/posts/default/108465418922484354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tayziesplace.blogspot.com/2008/02/thing-9-10-capture-rss-feed.html' title='Thing #9 &amp; 10 Capture an RSS feed'/><author><name>jeckel</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
