<?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-3381885718445297586</id><updated>2012-02-15T22:56:00.022-08:00</updated><category term='u'/><title type='text'>Shaun and D plus three</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-48205871052702504</id><published>2011-04-04T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T17:22:32.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lets talk about tonight</title><content type='html'>While it is still fresh in my mind. About as fresh as the wet clothes and toys that are currently scattered around my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me just preface all this by saying how much I adore my children. They have fabulous, energetic personalities. If a stranger came up to them with some candy and said get in the car, they would high five them, hold their hand and walk to the car. My doctor assures me that with all this energy is the need to be constantly learning and are highly creative.  (aka entertained with stimulating activites at all times, and if not, this happens *see photo below&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I primed the spare bedroom. It had to be done and right that instant. The girls went down, Landon ventured off to my parents and I went at it. The girls didn't sleep. at all. A sacrifice worth not having to look at aqua periwinkle walls smeared with God only knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm. Dinner time. Lets make something healthy and fancy and fun. Grilled chicken, pineapple coconut rice pilaf thingy, and bruschetta. While I was busy doing that the girls were busy doing this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eirb9Nnq_M8/TZpe2N0jwBI/AAAAAAAAAKo/X7-2KDRUHIY/s1600/492.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eirb9Nnq_M8/TZpe2N0jwBI/AAAAAAAAAKo/X7-2KDRUHIY/s320/492.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591886172849946642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little did I know, that was just the warm-up act. Lets just say the finale involved primer. I am pretty sure Tegan muttered "thanks for leaving the half full paint can out stupid". No photos to post of this incident not quiet laughing yet about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-48205871052702504?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/48205871052702504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2011/04/lets-talk-about-tonight.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/48205871052702504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/48205871052702504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2011/04/lets-talk-about-tonight.html' title='Lets talk about tonight'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eirb9Nnq_M8/TZpe2N0jwBI/AAAAAAAAAKo/X7-2KDRUHIY/s72-c/492.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-5121506868018404583</id><published>2011-03-12T09:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T09:54:19.043-08:00</updated><title type='text'>because who doesn't like oatmeal and garlic breadsticks for lunch</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s8CtvkQ9R7w/TXuyereND8I/AAAAAAAAAKg/DdVod0lt6yw/s1600/013.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s8CtvkQ9R7w/TXuyereND8I/AAAAAAAAAKg/DdVod0lt6yw/s320/013.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583252403191091138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5SB1YRBoxrw/TXuwUTXzJ4I/AAAAAAAAAKY/i2skO6dYCCg/s1600/012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5SB1YRBoxrw/TXuwUTXzJ4I/AAAAAAAAAKY/i2skO6dYCCg/s320/012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583250025899829122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whats that Tegan? Your shovel isn't working.  Awww that's to bad...lets hug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could go with the standard excuse "we moved, I have three kids, my spare time crafting has turned into something I never even dreamed of. Throw in some febrile seizures, pneumonia, other drama craziness our winter has been busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mostly now I just sit around mentally graphing all the comparisons between 2 year old twins and honey badgers.  There a no major home changes to speak of, other then new windows and removal of early 90's wallpaper. Life is great, Life is happy.  I wouldn't change a moment of it.  Well, maybe myself when I am trying to get all three kids out the door in snow suits. Did I mention how not fun that is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-5121506868018404583?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/5121506868018404583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2011/03/because-who-doesnt-like-oatmeal-and.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/5121506868018404583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/5121506868018404583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2011/03/because-who-doesnt-like-oatmeal-and.html' title='because who doesn&apos;t like oatmeal and garlic breadsticks for lunch'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s8CtvkQ9R7w/TXuyereND8I/AAAAAAAAAKg/DdVod0lt6yw/s72-c/013.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-21488664687813365</id><published>2010-06-23T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T06:48:36.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/TCIOohhyAXI/AAAAAAAAAIY/8a5oONclPK8/s1600/039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/TCIOohhyAXI/AAAAAAAAAIY/8a5oONclPK8/s320/039.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485963385448300914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast sumo style&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a general refusal to sit and eat like normal human beings in my house.  The girls insist sitting on the table and landon prefers his hot cereal in the living room.  All these things I know are directly my fault and I take full resposibility for enabling this.  Whe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/TCIPE1nghKI/AAAAAAAAAIg/QbeEHcU1xbA/s1600/038.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/TCIPE1nghKI/AAAAAAAAAIg/QbeEHcU1xbA/s320/038.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485963871877366946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Landon guarding his precious city&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/TCIP6DAZsOI/AAAAAAAAAIo/WNpbbavFxgA/s1600/047.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/TCIP6DAZsOI/AAAAAAAAAIo/WNpbbavFxgA/s320/047.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485964786004504802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harper beating Tegan over eggs and then yelling in german at me to make more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the only time I see Harper aggressive.  Any other time she is my one child that vise grips my finger when crossing the "wobbly crazy bridge" at the park.  Taking each step slow and cautious, while the other two dominate it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-21488664687813365?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/21488664687813365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/06/breakfast-fun.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/21488664687813365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/21488664687813365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/06/breakfast-fun.html' title='Breakfast fun'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/TCIOohhyAXI/AAAAAAAAAIY/8a5oONclPK8/s72-c/039.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-4742055576156782335</id><published>2010-06-22T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T17:44:17.898-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So it begins</title><content type='html'>There's no turning back now&lt;br /&gt;http://ayellowcottage.blogspot.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-4742055576156782335?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/4742055576156782335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/06/so-it-begins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/4742055576156782335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/4742055576156782335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/06/so-it-begins.html' title='So it begins'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-6708472271241097928</id><published>2010-04-27T06:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T07:12:53.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloody Potatoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S9bveNyVSUI/AAAAAAAAAGk/b2VVZHykoZE/s1600/001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S9bveNyVSUI/AAAAAAAAAGk/b2VVZHykoZE/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464818500236560706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highlights from last evening. To good not share (mind you, this is the after vacuuming picture)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While attempting to cook potato ham soup that involves a roux (scary I know) a sequence of events occurred while during, I went to this alternate void of mind numbness. I did not stop to think about what was happening or I would've cried. Straight up. I laughed instead, took pictures, and muttered a few things under my breath that will remain and settled between God and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What set it all off and spiraling downwards was a major cut to my thumb that if a 1/4" longer would involve stitches for sure. While trying not to bleed all over dinner and burn everything, I wrap my finger up in a dishtowel while all three kids are somewhat content playing "cooking". Mind you, Cooking involves plastic food for the girls, however it involves an assortment of spices, and random shavings of expired pantry food for Landon. Of course the frantic shuffling on my behalf stirs the children out of their playing zone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;while my back is turned I hear the dreaded words "uhoh mommy, I spilled it" Nostrils flared and deep inhaling, I turn to see what this Silent spilling substance was. Brown, fluffy and everywhere. cocoa powder i.e. brown devil powder. Landon frantically trying to clean it up and the girls were like bees to honey, finger painting their masterpieces in it. It is officially the WORST thing ever to try and clean. Not only was it all over the kids but it was all over my floor. Vacuuming cocoa powder, not so much. Somehow, I get this mess cleaned while not ruining dinner. Shaun walked in the door greeted by 3 naked children, a pile of brown clothes, and a strange funky smelling "dinner" Landon created for him that I found hidden in the fridge this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The evening ended in it's usual manner. Shuffling of activity, some tears, cushion forts, and story time with Shaun. (My personal favorite) The girls love sitting in Shaun's lap with books. They don't actually listen so Shaun ends up veering away from the actual written words. Last night Elmo goes to the Train Station became, Elmo goes to Hogwarts. Shaun mildly follows Harry potter (watches the movies) so to hear him talking about Elmo on the train fighting off dementors had me in tears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-6708472271241097928?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/6708472271241097928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/04/bloody-potatoes.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/6708472271241097928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/6708472271241097928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/04/bloody-potatoes.html' title='Bloody Potatoes'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S9bveNyVSUI/AAAAAAAAAGk/b2VVZHykoZE/s72-c/001.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-8317627228962296476</id><published>2010-01-19T08:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T08:41:12.805-08:00</updated><title type='text'>jungs-myers-briggs-kipker</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S1Xes5DEztI/AAAAAAAAAF0/KF37an9loK4/s1600-h/40hoovervaccuumcleaner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S1Xes5DEztI/AAAAAAAAAF0/KF37an9loK4/s320/40hoovervaccuumcleaner.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428489788674330322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new key to survival has been found through the most unlikely of sources.&lt;br /&gt;The girls bring it offerings as if it were some god from outer space, they circle it, giggle with joy and clap as it blows stinky vacuum air in their faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The boy, shrivels, hides quietly in the corner and plays as if to say "if she thinks I am playing good, she won't come near me" He keeps one eye on me at all times and any sudden movement that might mean I am coming anywhere near him, he flinches and crumbles into a million little pieces. Yes folks, it is that dramatic when the vacuum comes out. I have decided to use it as a personality test for my children. I sometimes leave it in the middle of the room and watch in wonder as they approach it. The boy is all about it's parts and pieces and pretend "cleaning" when it's off. The girls, still interested will smack it push it etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when turned on, the boy runs in terror and the girls come alive shrieking and clapping. It's especially funny if you leave it plugged in while turned off in the middle of the room. Someone's bound to accidentally turn it on while poking and prodding it, now that's a show.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-8317627228962296476?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/8317627228962296476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/01/jungs-myers-briggs-kipker.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/8317627228962296476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/8317627228962296476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/01/jungs-myers-briggs-kipker.html' title='jungs-myers-briggs-kipker'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S1Xes5DEztI/AAAAAAAAAF0/KF37an9loK4/s72-c/40hoovervaccuumcleaner.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-7665152509963390177</id><published>2010-01-13T09:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T09:15:29.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family of 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S03_BQRRQUI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0g4D1BNtHcA/s1600-h/002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S03_BQRRQUI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0g4D1BNtHcA/s200/002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426273523063669058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lioness in me is asleep. At dinner last night, I looked over at Shaun and said, "I am happy". and I am, I truly am. I realize how lucky I am to feel this content, this still. The past 30 years of my life were a blur of activity, the usual path of life. The past 10 years in particular were responsible for most of the blur, graduate college, find a career, move, fall in love, marry, buy a house, have children etc....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It probably helps that I found a creative outlet to tunnel all that fury and need for constant change that starts to fuel up. We are done building our family, now it's time to enjoy. I am done looking for that next thing looming in the near future (moving) as we are very quickly out growing our beloved house. We are as stable as can be and I am blissfully happy and so real about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-7665152509963390177?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/7665152509963390177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/01/family-of-5.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/7665152509963390177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/7665152509963390177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2010/01/family-of-5.html' title='Family of 5'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/S03_BQRRQUI/AAAAAAAAAFk/0g4D1BNtHcA/s72-c/002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-2255927793659206644</id><published>2009-10-01T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T05:47:59.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>and the mystery deepens</title><content type='html'>There are many times in my life where small things occur and I shrug them off as meaningless annoyances. Example, grape tomatoes spilling out in my car at 9pm after a long day. So when I go back and dissect that, I firmly believe there was a reason those tomatoes spilled out in my car. Small as it might be, I was suppose to be there at 9pm searching in the darkness for these specific tomatoes. Of course, it can go much further then that. What if I had bought a different container? what if I hadn't hit my brakes to hard? I know this thoughts process is nothing new and has been explored in several movies but when you actually realize it in the moment of what you are doing it can change you in several ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my story begins. We left the specialist yesterday with the mysterious bone back where it belongs. Strongly connected and clearly visible on screen. Our little precious angel was whole again (not that a bone makes you whole, you know what I mean) and we were told we had a normal healthy baby and she could go on living life accordingly. The doctor said it really was a rare happening that a person can move in such a way at the precise moment that it can actually make a bone disappear in x-ray.  Covering her butt (maybe) a miracle (maybe) whatever it was, i'll take it.  Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers, They worked!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-2255927793659206644?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/2255927793659206644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/10/and-mystery-deepens.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2255927793659206644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2255927793659206644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/10/and-mystery-deepens.html' title='and the mystery deepens'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-6378877059006207933</id><published>2009-09-19T12:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T13:04:56.247-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A mysterious bone and other strange tales</title><content type='html'>We begin this tale in a dark, confusing and scary land called&lt;br /&gt;orthopeadic specialist-ville. We were referred to them by our family doctor who just wanted to double check a popping sound in both girls shoulder ligaments.  So, a few trips into g.r. later we were told nothing to be concerned of, everything is where it is suppose to be etc...They wanted to monitor Tegan yearly for her hip bone due to some uneveness there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah relief. Now here we are a few weeks later and let me just paint a picture for you.  A trashed house, cartoons blaring in an effort to distract from any battles that might arise from the 3 year old, and two crabby sick babies pulling on my legs, whining, no, wailing.  Throw in some food,clutter, poop, dog fur, dirty dishes, and phone calls and you have my morning. This is all by 8 o clock.  So when a number appeared on my phone I didn't recognize, I took a chance and answered it.  Glad I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the Specialist letting me know that because they were so focused on the shoulder's, hip's, etc.  They didn't notice that My dear, sensitive Harper was missing her &lt;a href="http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1258764-overview"&gt;clavicle bone&lt;/a&gt;.  I didn't really know how to respond, other then make the face I usually do while waiting in line at meijer.  To sum it up, we have a consult with the doctor in two weeks to basically drill her and get all the information we can and come up with a treatment plan for her.  All I know for sure is that I love my little Harper more then anything and if I could, I would take my clavicle out and give it to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we learn more about this medical mystery I will update accordingly. yikes.  Being told your child has a "deformity" is a lot to take in, and even though we are less than a week into processing this, First and foremost, I am banning that word from ever being used to describe my child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-6378877059006207933?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/6378877059006207933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/09/mysterious-bone-and-other-strange-tales.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/6378877059006207933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/6378877059006207933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/09/mysterious-bone-and-other-strange-tales.html' title='A mysterious bone and other strange tales'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-1631010214904464757</id><published>2009-08-23T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T08:37:49.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>soldiers</title><content type='html'>It happened again this morning.  After my hair was washed *gasp* and dried *heartattack* they were there.  3 of them.  Tall, erect, and ready to march.&lt;br /&gt;Three gray hairs.  Three people.  I named them Landon, Harper and Tegan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-1631010214904464757?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/1631010214904464757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/08/soldiers.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/1631010214904464757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/1631010214904464757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/08/soldiers.html' title='soldiers'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-3964820047849486615</id><published>2009-08-14T07:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T08:07:22.366-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I done blew it</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Kndm4wX3g0"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Kndm4wX3g0&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-3964820047849486615?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/3964820047849486615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-done-blew-it.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/3964820047849486615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/3964820047849486615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-done-blew-it.html' title='I done blew it'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-5569598542390812895</id><published>2009-07-14T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T12:39:27.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A very special birthday, a very sad goodbye, and my new business</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Slza9m9xxLI/AAAAAAAAACU/5zmZsdWicYQ/s1600-h/255.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358398408630584498" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Slza9m9xxLI/AAAAAAAAACU/5zmZsdWicYQ/s320/255.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Could you think of any better way to spend your 25&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SlzbLkf2tgI/AAAAAAAAACc/f08d1tPl4fY/s1600-h/292.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358398648486376962" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SlzbLkf2tgI/AAAAAAAAACc/f08d1tPl4fY/s320/292.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think not! My dearest sister Megan is preparing for a most fantastic adventure. I am so happy and excited for her. (and just a wee bit jealous) She is venturing off to the great south. Nashville that is, to follow her passion :the music industry. She has the most excellent taste in all things music and for that reason alone, I think she'll do just fine .Best of luck my lovely sister and we will miss you greatly. We look forward to bringing all the kids to your apartment and trashing it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have myself entered a strange period. A post-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;par tum&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;trauma&lt;/span&gt;-of having twins period, and in this (pause) fog, decided that I am going to be starting up a design consulting business in the fall. I need to stick with what I know, and I also need a creative outlet because I don't know how much more Shaun can take of my thrift store re-designs. He is blind to all things awesome. i.e. my super fab clocks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SlzdLag4C4I/AAAAAAAAACk/YiYVwX7FRxo/s1600-h/216.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358400844829559682" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SlzdLag4C4I/AAAAAAAAACk/YiYVwX7FRxo/s320/216.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and check out this little find:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Slzdq3iMPJI/AAAAAAAAACs/_cKXA4svRIE/s1600-h/207.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358401385195650194" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Slzdq3iMPJI/AAAAAAAAACs/_cKXA4svRIE/s320/207.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My little feathered friend. Speaking of...want a fun, inexpensive treat! Get a glass vase and fill it with feathers. You won't be sorry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So much going on right now. I wish I could just post a million pictures because my brain is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sputtering&lt;/span&gt; right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SlzdLag4C4I/AAAAAAAAACk/YiYVwX7FRxo/s1600-h/216.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SlzdLag4C4I/AAAAAAAAACk/YiYVwX7FRxo/s1600-h/216.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-5569598542390812895?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/5569598542390812895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/07/very-special-birthday-very-sad-goodbye.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/5569598542390812895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/5569598542390812895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/07/very-special-birthday-very-sad-goodbye.html' title='A very special birthday, a very sad goodbye, and my new business'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Slza9m9xxLI/AAAAAAAAACU/5zmZsdWicYQ/s72-c/255.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-2548856281832452076</id><published>2009-06-22T11:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T11:33:18.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>eyes sometimes lie.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I am currently collecting photos to write a photographic essay on the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"golden months" of baby hood. We have turned that 6 month corner and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;life is hitting its stride. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So until then, feast your eyes on this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;magnificent&lt;/span&gt; little being...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Shaun spotted this little guy on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Sunday&lt;/span&gt;. I was convinced it was a baby hummingbird. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Sj_Mci7qB_I/AAAAAAAAACM/UB9-OKprryg/s1600-h/IC_Macroglossum_stellatarum1_NR.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350219673124866034" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Sj_Mci7qB_I/AAAAAAAAACM/UB9-OKprryg/s320/IC_Macroglossum_stellatarum1_NR.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; SERIOUSLY!??!?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am obsessed.  It's a hummingbird moth and it's my new best friend.  Landon was flipping out trying to catch it of course, and eventually it gave up and flew off.  I must find the plants this little friend feeds on and grow them all over my yard. Crazy how this bug has existed all this time without me knowing. tragic.  Now that I am aware of his presence, I will for sure be watching all the time for visits from my mystical friend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-2548856281832452076?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/2548856281832452076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/06/eyes-sometimes-lie.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2548856281832452076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2548856281832452076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/06/eyes-sometimes-lie.html' title='eyes sometimes lie.....'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Sj_Mci7qB_I/AAAAAAAAACM/UB9-OKprryg/s72-c/IC_Macroglossum_stellatarum1_NR.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-5673288282911852937</id><published>2009-05-27T19:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T19:27:38.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'>new lessons</title><content type='html'>In my large effort these days not to judge, I have had several moments of strange clarity and lessons.  I guess I don't really know what to call it.  The other day, I finally had my moment. &lt;br /&gt;It was a Sunday morning and I had a killer headache, no meds.  Buzzed over to walgreens where I saw a man, pretty dirty/rough looking sitting on a bench.  While everyone else walked by (not judging) I noticed he was kind of wobbling, possibly drunk.  My initial reaction was whoa, that dudes totally wasted, on a Sunday morning yikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I walked into the store and while I was in there picking out my pain killers and water to wash them down with immediately, I thought to myself, "who am I to shake my finger at that man for what he is"  I am bringing him some water because he looks like he needs some bad.  The doubt and questing comes flooding in "what if he's offended, what if he's slaps it out of my hand and starts swearing at me" etc. etc....Why not trying to judge am I judging? ugh. So I head outside and he's still there. I slowly approach ready to hand the bottle and walk away when he suddenly stands up and walks off (or rather, stumbles off) which totally burst my courage bubble and I swiftly got back in my car.  I don't really know where I am going with this story.  I am not telling it to try and make myself feel better for a deed I didn't even get to do.  Who knows what the outcome would've been.  I guess I just want that dude to know that someone did notice him and didn't shake their head at him, and didn't feel sorry for him, in fact, if Landon was there, he probably would've walked right up to him and called him a "ductor"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-5673288282911852937?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/5673288282911852937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-lessons.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/5673288282911852937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/5673288282911852937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-lessons.html' title='new lessons'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-367365582585964282</id><published>2009-05-27T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T19:10:11.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>chaos level  99%`</title><content type='html'>So Shaun and I started measuring our household chaos level.  It's a fun little game. For instance, one baby crying, one baby eating, one toddler choosing to poop on potty at that exact moment, I'd shout out 67%.....  Both babies crying, toddler whining, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Shaun&lt;/span&gt; moving in furniture, neighbor's dog running into house, toddler escaping outside, dinner sitting at the table from 2hours ago =100%  Doesn't really dip below 50% until after 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also been watching my poor little guy suffering from allergies these past few weeks.  It kills me.  I just wish I could take his eyes out, soak them in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;benedryl&lt;/span&gt;, and stick em back in.  The poor guy has 2 inhalers, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;, and even a sedative for his flair ups and eczema hot spots.  As most of you are familiar with Landon, the sedative brings him down to a 'normal' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;activity&lt;/span&gt; level.  whatever normal means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love his sense of the world right now.  We drove by W&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;endy's&lt;/span&gt; the other day and there was a man outside sweeping the sidewalk with his hat and apron on to which Landon screams out "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ductor&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ductor&lt;/span&gt;" or in adult speak, train conductor.  "Wow dude", I said, "looks like he lost his train," lets go help him find it!"  In this moment of trying to play along with him, I realized what an amazing lesson I was learning from my 2 year old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-367365582585964282?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/367365582585964282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/chaos-level-99.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/367365582585964282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/367365582585964282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/chaos-level-99.html' title='chaos level  99%`'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-4550883934927943130</id><published>2009-05-14T06:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T19:23:42.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A year ago today I was in a dark room having an ultrasound done to detect what the heck was 'wrong' with this pregnancy. There were a few moments (while withering on the bathroom floor) when thoughts flashed in that deep dark place in my mind "what if I'm having twins"?! no, no way, projectile in the toilet and re-curl into fetal position on the floor shaking. poor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Shaun&lt;/span&gt;. Little did I know, there would be several times in the next 9 months that I would see that exact look on his face when he saw me lying there on the floor. A mix of panic/fear/helpless-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ness&lt;/span&gt;. I am sure you can picture it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;technician&lt;/span&gt; placed that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;wand&lt;/span&gt; thingy on my stomach, I knew. The two black circles with blinking white dots in the middle appeared instantly and as the tech explained "this is your baby's heart and this is your &lt;em&gt;other's&lt;/em&gt; baby's heart. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;auhh&lt;/span&gt;, whoa whoa whoa. So casually as if we knew?! Holy Sh** was the only thing that I could think to say. So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;eloquent&lt;/span&gt;, I know. "You weren't on fertility?" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;auhh&lt;/span&gt; no, (which I find out later is a totally acceptable question to ask a complete stranger?!?) "Let me go find the doctor"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my brain made audible sounds it would of sounded something like this when the doctor came in to talk to us "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;beda&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;blabodahpoo&lt;/span&gt;" Come to find out, nine months later, that is exactly what my brain sounds like when two babies and a toddler are crying. I have just now started to dissect the past year of our life and what has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;occurred&lt;/span&gt;. Nothing can ever prepare you for twins. NOTHING.(I think this may be a repeated phrase in this blog) Now that I am on the other side I am rather speechless. I try to think about what I would tell another mother expecting twins. Would I go with the usual "they're so much fun" it's a double blessing or for the more raw "I cried for 25 days straight, no sobbed, and thought I was going insane from lack of sleep".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blissful joy. It's so hard to wrap my brain around all this. I actually don't think we are meant to because our brains might explode.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-4550883934927943130?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/4550883934927943130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/year-ago-today-i-was-in-dark-room.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/4550883934927943130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/4550883934927943130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/year-ago-today-i-was-in-dark-room.html' title=''/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-2237015170598910814</id><published>2009-05-07T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T11:34:52.602-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='u'/><title type='text'>Tegan and "other Tegan"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I just realized I have written very little about the girls. I have no idea why that is. It's probably because anything I say about them will sound cheesy. For example: They are so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;stinkin&lt;/span&gt; cute it's not even funny. I just want to squish their chubby legs constantly.  The girls have changed our lives in way's I am just now beginning to understand and work out.  NOTHING can prepare you for twins.  It's been a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;fascinating&lt;/span&gt; ride, that's for sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Tegan&lt;/span&gt; is such a little fire. I predict she is going to be my child full of sass and I will be breaking up squabbles between her and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;landon&lt;/span&gt; on a daily bases. She came into this world butt first and she's gonna let everyone know about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgMmWSeD8YI/AAAAAAAAAB8/uGSXDGd8bqE/s1600-h/119.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333148548093702530" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgMmWSeD8YI/AAAAAAAAAB8/uGSXDGd8bqE/s320/119.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Harper is my old soul. There is something about her eyes. It's almost as if you can hear her thinking. She's constantly observing. I can see her as the sister Landon and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Tegan&lt;/span&gt; both confide in. She is totally wise beyond her years.  I have high hopes for this one being my child that won't stick things in the outlets and flush items down the toilet that the plumber has to remove.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgMnmiUEIjI/AAAAAAAAACE/OOAklqtbjBw/s1600-h/062.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333149926736273970" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgMnmiUEIjI/AAAAAAAAACE/OOAklqtbjBw/s320/062.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;side note, I am off to get ready for a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;momma's&lt;/span&gt; night out with a&lt;a href="http://pompfamily.blogspot.com/"&gt; dear friend&lt;/a&gt;.  NO KIDS. Can you imagine the conversation possibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-2237015170598910814?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/2237015170598910814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/tegan-and-other-tegan.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2237015170598910814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2237015170598910814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/tegan-and-other-tegan.html' title='Tegan and &quot;other Tegan&quot;'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgMmWSeD8YI/AAAAAAAAAB8/uGSXDGd8bqE/s72-c/119.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-2271875075257034078</id><published>2009-05-07T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T07:06:48.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>FYI while I thought my child was napping "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;surprisingly&lt;/span&gt; good" in his aunt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Megan's&lt;/span&gt; bed, he was really up there playing with green oil paint and eating gum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-2271875075257034078?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/2271875075257034078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/fyi-while-i-thought-my-child-was.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2271875075257034078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2271875075257034078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/fyi-while-i-thought-my-child-was.html' title=''/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-7591075360764598190</id><published>2009-05-05T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T14:14:18.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgCr4zzsYLI/AAAAAAAAAB0/B8xs9Wz3gvg/s1600-h/IMG_1823+(3).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332450951274717362" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgCr4zzsYLI/AAAAAAAAAB0/B8xs9Wz3gvg/s320/IMG_1823+(3).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we're on the subject of good parenting, did I mention that I allow and encourage my children to play with fireworks.  Does &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;sarcasm&lt;/span&gt; translate through blog writing??!?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-7591075360764598190?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/7591075360764598190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/while-were-on-subject-of-good-parenting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/7591075360764598190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/7591075360764598190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/while-were-on-subject-of-good-parenting.html' title=''/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgCr4zzsYLI/AAAAAAAAAB0/B8xs9Wz3gvg/s72-c/IMG_1823+(3).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-8036150091853683053</id><published>2009-05-05T12:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T14:15:59.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"The boy" and other parenting delights</title><content type='html'>Landon loves trains. Loves them. He enters an almost trance like state when playing with them. I totally encourage this love because it's something he enjoys doing that does not involve some form of mischief i.e. *cooking in the kitchen. This leads me to "the boy". He came from Grampy's polar express train that comes out for Christmas. Last time we saw the boy he was sitting in landon's mash potato's on Christmas eve. For about 4 months solid there was constant talk of "where's boy" "grampy mimi find boy?" and so on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cue delivery of new furniture and removal of old and the boy was discovered lodged in between a cushion. The boy has somehow made it over to our house, oh and did I mention how small the boy is. The other morning Landon came up the stairs in his usual good morning, followed by "where's boy?" We don't let Landon bring "the boy" to sleep with him because of his for mentioned size. It would be &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;tragic &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;if the boy was ever lost and I don't have the time to search for him every morning. The point of this story, mm not really sure what it is. I'm just personally amused by the boy. It's like my own personal inside joke. It just makes me chuckle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgCVhoAx50I/AAAAAAAAABs/4F4wJq2Ud8M/s1600-h/099.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332426363715577666" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgCVhoAx50I/AAAAAAAAABs/4F4wJq2Ud8M/s320/099.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;* and when I refer to cooking, yeah. Just when I thought I'm one step ahead of him. Long story short. I was taking a shower under the presumption landon was downstairs with Shaun. (Note to self, always confirm he is indeed under the watchful eye of daddy when showering) Upon hearing a large amount of commotion, I quickly ended my shower when, I found the following....a trail of espresso beans (from a brand new bag) leading to the counter, where 2 martini glasses stood full of beans (one was broken on the floor) and a greasy substance which I quickly discovered was olive oil imported from greece (a brand new bottle as well, now completely empty). Not only was it in the glasses but was all over the counter, in the coffee grinder *heartattack* and the espresso machine. I kind of blinked in disbelief, and as the reality hit me of what I was gazing upon, Landon appeared (upon which I eyed him for any injuries from the COFFEE GRINDER) and asked him what the heck he was doing. To which he replied "cooking," turned and walked off. (I just realized how bad this story makes me look as a mother, I promise you, this child's curiosity and drive to do things has me constantly on my toes. When things like the above happen, I am almost unfazed by it now. It's just a normal, daily occurrence in our house and the speed at which he can accomplish his mischief is record breaking, especially when I am distracted with babies.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-8036150091853683053?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/8036150091853683053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/boy-and-other-parenting-delights.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/8036150091853683053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/8036150091853683053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/boy-and-other-parenting-delights.html' title='&quot;The boy&quot; and other parenting delights'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SgCVhoAx50I/AAAAAAAAABs/4F4wJq2Ud8M/s72-c/099.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-2818742965419753121</id><published>2009-05-01T14:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T14:15:22.265-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have to constantly look at photo's of my children to remind myself 3 valuable things that I blink with disbelief on a daily bases.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1 I grew 2 babies in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Sfttn3M5pSI/AAAAAAAAABM/v6UloR_hj-k/s1600-h/IMG_4460.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330975115523499298" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Sfttn3M5pSI/AAAAAAAAABM/v6UloR_hj-k/s320/IMG_4460.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2 Yes, you really can love more then one thing that much&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SftvBf13wbI/AAAAAAAAABU/dnzQhWwq1Js/s1600-h/IMG_4512.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330976655441117618" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SftvBf13wbI/AAAAAAAAABU/dnzQhWwq1Js/s320/IMG_4512.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3 I have kept 3 children under 3 alive for 5 months and counting (fingers crossed for at least another month..) just kidding everyone, I am slowly getting a grasp on parenting multiple children&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Sftva23R_6I/AAAAAAAAABc/nbGb7tsUtmg/s1600-h/IMG_4519.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330977091117776802" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Sftva23R_6I/AAAAAAAAABc/nbGb7tsUtmg/s320/IMG_4519.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these things make it worth having to look at this on a daily bases&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SftwNyvMvZI/AAAAAAAAABk/x0CT-YtmiSs/s1600-h/IMG_4583.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330977966183464338" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SftwNyvMvZI/AAAAAAAAABk/x0CT-YtmiSs/s320/IMG_4583.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (look at poor little owen) Don't be fooled by him alone in that photo. This happened purely at the hands of my little man, he just got caught in the aftermath&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-2818742965419753121?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/2818742965419753121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-have-to-constantly-look-at-photos-of.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2818742965419753121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/2818742965419753121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-have-to-constantly-look-at-photos-of.html' title=''/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/Sfttn3M5pSI/AAAAAAAAABM/v6UloR_hj-k/s72-c/IMG_4460.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-5234798408380242780</id><published>2009-04-29T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T06:59:56.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank you outside for existing</title><content type='html'>You know that scene in The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Simpsons&lt;/span&gt; when Homer licks the back of a toad in substitute for beer, his pupils &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dilate&lt;/span&gt; and he is suddenly transported to a magical world.....That is what happens when Landon steps outside. It's like something just clicks inside him and he must do everything and anything "boy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;foremost&lt;/span&gt;, we find a stick or an object that looks or can function as a stick would. i.e broom, shovel, misc. metal poles we have in our garage. It is then placed into the dirt and beaten by another stick-like object. Once we are bored with that, we then turn the stick into a spear and chase the dog with it. Which &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;inevitably&lt;/span&gt; ends with falling into dirt, dog poop, or random puddle even though it hasn't rained in days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, we bring it down a notch and start poking ants with the stick. Which always leads to me to explaining that ants are living and have feelings too blah blah blah...So then it turns into an ant hunt which miraculously will occupy him for longer then 5 seconds. After we tire of the ants we might try something more "normal" like dig in the dirt for worms. As soon as all these activities are completed it's as if there's is a collected sigh of "okay, now I can swing or ride my bike or play in the sandbox"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-5234798408380242780?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/5234798408380242780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/04/thank-you-outside-for-existing.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/5234798408380242780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/5234798408380242780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/04/thank-you-outside-for-existing.html' title='Thank you outside for existing'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-1251715082586310392</id><published>2009-04-27T13:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T13:35:08.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>magical mini</title><content type='html'>With the arrival of the twins nearing (i.e. I felt like I was dying) Shaun and I thought it would be a good idea to get the manual out for my car. We wanted to look up the "logistics" of putting three carseats in the back of my car. This is what we found in bold letters...."WARNING even though there are 3 latch hooks DO NOT install three car seats under any circumstances ever or we will blow up your car after we drive over it with a monster truck." Cue the hormonal waterfalls. Aughhh. I cried for a day....would stop....picture "it" in my head and start crying again. I hated that i've said things like"i'll never drive a minivan ever..whawha." Who EVEN cares. seriously. as long as my lil ones are safe i'll do it. I'll sacrifice any ounce of coolness that I didn't even have to begin with and drive a mini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So after an interesting (and luckily) five second drive home from the hospital. The search was on. 3 days later in the daze of what shaun and I now refer to as "being raked through the coals of hell" (just kidding girls, we love you ) we were the proud owners of this beast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYUw0Ips_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/Q-tEbF1tbFA/s1600-h/QZ8IXCAK5214QCAV2HN1ZCA9RWAK2CANZCEAPCACMJL48CAODZ3QHCA7GXMBICABW8OHWCAIRS3Z5CA1XTGUPCAFZA7JPCAH4HPX1CAE1KSTWCALN3GV0CACC99YGCA92R3GRCA6MB0N4CAZH7P2KCAZYTEAM.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329470037900768242" style="WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 70px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYUw0Ips_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/Q-tEbF1tbFA/s200/QZ8IXCAK5214QCAV2HN1ZCA9RWAK2CANZCEAPCACMJL48CAODZ3QHCA7GXMBICABW8OHWCAIRS3Z5CA1XTGUPCAFZA7JPCAH4HPX1CAE1KSTWCALN3GV0CACC99YGCA92R3GRCA6MB0N4CAZH7P2KCAZYTEAM.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That was a compromise from what I really wanted which was this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYVEgz-d6I/AAAAAAAAAAs/DREY5qnUTPI/s1600-h/0610mt_12_z%2Bmeltdown_2006%2Bcustom_minivan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329470376311158690" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYVEgz-d6I/AAAAAAAAAAs/DREY5qnUTPI/s200/0610mt_12_z%2Bmeltdown_2006%2Bcustom_minivan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also feel really special that I get to do things like this now:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYVmtdL15I/AAAAAAAAAA0/Fl1UVFxLl-A/s1600-h/4f1c3261187be286.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329470963820779410" style="WIDTH: 140px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 117px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYVmtdL15I/AAAAAAAAAA0/Fl1UVFxLl-A/s200/4f1c3261187be286.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, and if anyone knows where I can buy this little treat please let me know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYWB0ifBzI/AAAAAAAAAA8/6AZ3r-AP-R4/s1600-h/773b3e142ac6ec10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329471429578524466" style="WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 135px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYWB0ifBzI/AAAAAAAAAA8/6AZ3r-AP-R4/s200/773b3e142ac6ec10.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-1251715082586310392?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/1251715082586310392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/04/magical-mini.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/1251715082586310392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/1251715082586310392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/04/magical-mini.html' title='magical mini'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfYUw0Ips_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/Q-tEbF1tbFA/s72-c/QZ8IXCAK5214QCAV2HN1ZCA9RWAK2CANZCEAPCACMJL48CAODZ3QHCA7GXMBICABW8OHWCAIRS3Z5CA1XTGUPCAFZA7JPCAH4HPX1CAE1KSTWCALN3GV0CACC99YGCA92R3GRCA6MB0N4CAZH7P2KCAZYTEAM.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3381885718445297586.post-4190742000365837877</id><published>2009-04-24T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T07:16:14.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A follow up to "dreams really do come true...when you poop on the potty"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfH3o85joMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/nX0LMoWK7LU/s1600-h/IMG_4368.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328312117070373058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfH3o85joMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/nX0LMoWK7LU/s200/IMG_4368.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There really is no better feeling then providing joy for your children. With that said, why is there always a certain level of, how do you say, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;awkwardness&lt;/span&gt;, involved? I've never been a "clapper" or described as being "hyper" not that there is anything wrong with these characteristics AT ALL, it's just not me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But what is it ab&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfH5cLGS6bI/AAAAAAAAAAU/coD_j7K2t2Y/s1600-h/IMG_4367.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328314096566856114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfH5cLGS6bI/AAAAAAAAAAU/coD_j7K2t2Y/s200/IMG_4367.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;out seeing your child in pure-explosive ecstasy that makes me start clapping and say really awesome things like "hey &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;landon&lt;/span&gt;, look at his watch &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;thinging&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;majiger&lt;/span&gt; um yeah...." This "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ductor&lt;/span&gt;" was a very patient sweet man, and by his good graces puts up with this on a volunteer bases. My personal highlight of the day was when I looked out the window and saw some guy in tight jeans, black rocker shirt, somewhat greasy long blond hair, strumming on his guitar with a look of pure pleasure as the train roared by. Landon's was for sure the "cows running" Which either disturbed him or made his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;existence&lt;/span&gt; because he couldn't stop talking about the cows, which in reality, were running in terror from the train.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All in all the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;coopersville-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;marne&lt;/span&gt; train was a exceptional way to spend a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt; afternoon. Lucky for us we missed the bunny train which ran last weekend. *darn* I can't even begin to imagine the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;awkwardness&lt;/span&gt; of adults dressed up in bunny suits. You would do it for this face too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfH9luHfgtI/AAAAAAAAAAc/zK8kS6TWJUs/s1600-h/IMG_4373.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328318658632450770" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfH9luHfgtI/AAAAAAAAAAc/zK8kS6TWJUs/s200/IMG_4373.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3381885718445297586-4190742000365837877?l=kipkerclan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/feeds/4190742000365837877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/04/follow-up-to-dreams-really-do-come.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/4190742000365837877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3381885718445297586/posts/default/4190742000365837877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kipkerclan.blogspot.com/2009/04/follow-up-to-dreams-really-do-come.html' title='A follow up to &quot;dreams really do come true...when you poop on the potty&quot;'/><author><name>kipker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07792824218754072567</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_q4QEffKptIg/SfH3o85joMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/nX0LMoWK7LU/s72-c/IMG_4368.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
