<?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-6237886696677430393</id><updated>2011-12-08T18:24:19.094-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mothers Perfect Insanity</title><subtitle type='html'>Chicken bones DO NOT go down a toilet!
Hmm. Blog description....let me think. Okay... I got it... this blog is about how my beautiful daughters ages  13, 10 and 7 drive me to the "perfect insanity". I started writing about it years ago and found that they not only keep me laughing, but others too. It is refreshing to hear that I am not the only mother who feels like putting her kids in a corner and throwing rotten tomatoes at them. It's all in fun!!! Don't take me too seriously.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-3890331154671615786</id><published>2011-12-07T18:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T18:27:49.429-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New improved insanity.... :)</title><content type='html'>Do you ever feel like life puts you at the top of waterpark slide and pushes you down? The fear is overwhelming, but somewhere along the way you realize this is a rush you're glad you didn't miss. It has taken every bit of energy to sit and put thoughts to paper again. I have written many drafts, but none have actually made it there. I honestly think it starts out great, but after looking it over, I realize i'm trying to mix pancake batter and cake mix into the same bowl. I have so many thoughts in my head right now I'm trying to sort them out. But what ends up happening is that I start off sorting by color, then partly through start sorting by size, and then ultimately realize I had another pile for content. It's got to be one or the other... I cannot have all of these piles of thoughts just laying around. The funny thing thing about that is that I feel like my mind has gotten so much more clear these past few weeks. Like my heart is in full bloom and my humor has found it's way back to it's twisted home. Life has been derailed more than once over the course of the last few years. Not knowing where you are going or which direction you are headed gets to be just a little too much sometimes. I remember looking up and feeling like i want to give up. Something always brought me back to the insanity i call "home". My goal this year is to get back to doing the things i love the most. Writing. Making sure that each day is filled with laughter and sillyness. My life has so much more than just my dolls now. I have found my life as it was meant to be. And isn't that just a 'woo hoo' for me? &lt;br /&gt;I want to be pushed to do the things i love and have let fall to the side of my feet. Life  was meant to be lived in such a way that you wake up smiling knowing that today you see the sun like you have never seen it before. Welcome to my new insanity. I hope that it will be as entertaining as the old insanity. ;0)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-3890331154671615786?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/3890331154671615786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2011/12/new-improved-insanity.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3890331154671615786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3890331154671615786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2011/12/new-improved-insanity.html' title='New improved insanity.... :)'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-2902522970798722495</id><published>2010-08-08T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T07:36:47.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing,  Rylie! aka: personal shopper!! :)</title><content type='html'>School clothes shopping is always the best part of going back to school. School supplies had been purchased weeks ago and newly bought clothes managed to stay untouched and in mint condition for over a week now. So... today was the &lt;em&gt;'pick up a few more items' &lt;/em&gt;day. Or.... maybe we should rename it to &lt;em&gt;'i have 3 daughters who am i kidding, it's full out shopping day..... again!&lt;/em&gt;'. Have I ever mentioned that shopping is NOT on my "fun things to do" list? Well, now you know. After hours and hours of bouncing from store to store, waiting outside of dressing rooms for Bryanna, inside dressing rooms with Lauren, and trying to convince Rylie that she did NOT need to consult with her sisters for every single item, we were finally down to the last pair of shorts for Lauren. Yipee!!! I grabbed the items we were purchasing, put back the NO WAY ARE YOU WEARING THOSE and instructed her to hurry, get dressed so we could finally head home. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(this is where I pray everyone is as visual as i am)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;We are standing outside the dressing rooms, patiently waiting for Lauren to get herself dressed and out. I am leaning against a clothes rack, Bryanna standing there slouched, and Rylie flying around like a boomerang. After about 10 minutes of drooling, i asked Bryanna to PLEASE go tell Lauren we were leaving. I see her go in and come out quickly and not too far behind is Lauren, marching with little fast steps. As she comes through all the rack of clothes I notice two things... One, Lauren is wearing shorts that are about 10 times too big for her and Two, Rylie has all of a sudden emerged laughing so hard her face has turned crimson red, her dimples are so deep in her face, and she is starting to tip over and fall on the floor. Lauren has a hand full of excess shorts bunched up in her hands with a very confused look on her face. I say, "Lauren! It's time to leave... what are you doing"?&lt;br /&gt;She gets the &lt;em&gt;'are you kidding me' &lt;/em&gt;look and grits her teeth saying, "I am doing what you asked... trying clothes on"!&lt;br /&gt;Okay... here is another &lt;em&gt;'HUH?&lt;/em&gt;' moment. Right after she finished her sentence, Rylie's laugh became louder and louder as she struggles to find air and say, "I am playing jokes on her"!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rylie decided it would be great fun to pick out a few items of clothing, take them into the dressing room, only stick her arm in and holding back the giggles, tell Lauren, "Here.. Mommy wants you to try this on". She came back 4 times and did this!! It was only after she had tried on 2 mens's shirts and her second pair of women's shorts that Bryanna was sent in. Bryanna and I looked at each other and began to laugh outloud as Lauren scowled her way back to the dressing room mumbling under her breath. Rylie was still tickled to tears that she was able to "joke" her into trying on all those ridiculous clothes.  &lt;br /&gt;Rylie... oh my little doll Rylie!! Have I ever told you that you and you alone are almost as funny as your Mommy?? hee hee&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-2902522970798722495?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/2902522970798722495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/08/introducing-rylie-aka-personal-shopper.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2902522970798722495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2902522970798722495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/08/introducing-rylie-aka-personal-shopper.html' title='Introducing,  Rylie! aka: personal shopper!! :)'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-4552475911125920345</id><published>2010-07-27T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T23:00:15.992-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspired Insanity</title><content type='html'>Trying to force inspired insanity is kind of like trying to open your eyelids after they have been super glued shut.  When you look for the good within the bad, sometimes you find that laughing won't help you find it any quicker, but it will at least look like you didn't get there with your face sliding accross the dirt! I try as best I can to not let the moments in life that make me want to pout like a child, scream like a baby and throw a temper tantrum lead me.I imagine that some would read my blogs and wonder what kind of Mother would write such things to embarass her children. Well, actually... that kind of Mother probably wouldn't read my blogs. Eh... too bad!! So getting through the potholes of life, the sinking ships of the day and the moments of pure delightful insanity, I come to you full of smiles and sunshine. Only with the help of my new addiction, Starbucks, do I bounce off the walls of your brain and pull you into my crazy world!! Please wipe your feet at the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ashamed to say I haven't been carrying around my notepad and pencil to jot down all '&lt;em&gt;crazy&lt;/em&gt;' the girls display. As a matter of fact, even my mental notes are roaming at the bottom of my purse. I am here to let out a big &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WOO HOO &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;for the end to summer. Back on schedule!! Earlier bedtimes, less fighting because they aren't spending every minute of the day with each other, and no more driving to work singing the theme song to iCarly, Spongebob and Wizards of Waverly Place. Our resident teenager is currently boycotting home until the very last possible moment. My littest doll keeps reminding me that we should 'sell that girl already' when referring to Lauren. And Lauren, well... she has new battle scars to show on her first day of school. &lt;em&gt;OH THE EXCITMENT SHE HAS&lt;/em&gt;!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog makes no sense and has no point whatsoever. Who cares!! I felt like writing tonight and I smiled the entire way through. Are you surprised? Naw!! People don't smile enough if you ask me. If you can't find a smile... borrow one, steal one, grow one. Whatever it is that you must do, always remember to smile. My life with my dolls allows me to continue doing just that. Hope to see you again sooner rather than later. Cross your fingers!! &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-4552475911125920345?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/4552475911125920345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/07/inspired-insanity.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4552475911125920345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4552475911125920345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/07/inspired-insanity.html' title='Inspired Insanity'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-428646887131198273</id><published>2010-07-23T21:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T22:17:53.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dr. Lauren to Emergency... Dr. Lauren to Emergency!!</title><content type='html'>Oh my dolls!! What funny things have you done for me lately?? &lt;br /&gt;Lauren is my gimpy girl these days--- 22 stitches to the leg! &lt;strong&gt;OUCH!&lt;/strong&gt; At least this time she didn't lecture the doctor and make me sing while her stitches were being put in. &lt;br /&gt;Lauren is our family 'accident child'. We are all very clumsy, but when Lauren does it.... she goes &lt;strong&gt;BIG!!! &lt;/strong&gt;Last year at this time, she sliced the side of her foot. So there we were, Lauren bleeding all over the place. The doctor comes in with a needle full. He sits down and explains that he will be injecting the contents of the needle into her wound. It wasn't going to hurt, but that she would feel the pressure. He goes on to explain it will help numb the pain of him putting in the stitches. Here it goes.... needle in, and &lt;strong&gt;OMGsh!! &lt;/strong&gt;Lauren wanted to rip his face off!! She gave him a look I had never seen (&lt;em&gt;except on me, of course&lt;/em&gt;). She grabbed my hand and squeezed! &lt;strong&gt;UGH.. please give me some of whatever it is she is getting! STAT!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew, we got through the needle. On to stitches! Before the doctor breaks out the sewing kit, Lauren, with her big beautiful chocolate eyes says, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Mommy, will you sing to me while he is putting in the stitches"?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Oh goodness! Now I'm the entertainment? I was just the squeeze toy a few minutes ago. &lt;br /&gt;Of course I couldn't say no. And on we go! The doctor and his nurse swaying back and forth as they are sewing her up, me singing away!! LOL&lt;br /&gt;When he was done, he proudly announced it was his first time stitching someone to live entertainment! Yikes! (&lt;em&gt;i guess i was glad he didn't stitch my mouth shut, hee hee&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;All stitched up"! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;the Dr. tells Lauren. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"See, it wasn't bad at all, was it"?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OH NO-NO-NO!! Why did he have to ask that question!?!?!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lauren looks at him with a softer kind of crazy and said, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"You said that needle wasn't going to hurt. It did! Clearly you lied to me"! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(&lt;em&gt;oh heaven help me, she's going off&lt;/em&gt;)... &lt;br /&gt;she twitched her head to the side and scolded him with her finger shaking up and down, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I really think that if you are going to be doing this kind of job, you should tell kids how much it really hurts! It isn't nice to lie"!! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't even sure what to do at that point. She did tell him &lt;em&gt;'thank you'&lt;/em&gt;! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with the first visit, and this last one on Monday, Lauren is thinking she has the hang of this whole '&lt;em&gt;stitch&lt;/em&gt;' thing and is confident she might be able to repair herself next time. Hmmm..... saves me a co-pay! Woo hoo!! If she does a really good job, we will take outside appointments! :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-428646887131198273?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/428646887131198273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/07/dr-lauren-to-emergency-dr-lauren-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/428646887131198273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/428646887131198273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/07/dr-lauren-to-emergency-dr-lauren-to.html' title='Dr. Lauren to Emergency... Dr. Lauren to Emergency!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-523232425840991654</id><published>2010-06-15T22:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T23:09:50.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bryanna!! That was just MEAN! (giggle~giggle)</title><content type='html'>Summer means sleeping in, being lazy, swimming, sleeping in and SLEEPING IN! Of course, not for me, but the girls get to sleep in a bit. So... of the dolls, Lauren is my early riser. She wakes up with the sun and wonders why everyone else doesn't. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; are of the same mold. An earthquake could be happening and they will think someone is rocking them to sleep. Not to mention, they are the crankiest children when forced to wake up before NOON!&lt;br /&gt;Sunday morning was going to be busy. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; was having her &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;end of softball&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; party at the park at 10am and even knowing this information 2 weeks ahead of time, I was still &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt; prepared. In true procrastination style, I waited until the morning of the party to pick up the fruit to make my fruit trays. Lauren, being my morning sunshine, was all smiles that morning and happy to tag along to the store. As we got ready to head out, I woke up &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt;, which took about a good 20 minutes of shaking and pulling of her toes and instructed her to get up, get &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; out of bed (that was really just mean on my part knowing the chaos that was coming) and help her get ready. I figured once I got back home, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; could head to the park to meet up with her teammates. I &lt;em&gt;tried &lt;/em&gt;to hurry myself along knowing the battle &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; was up against at home. Although, I did chuckle in my hands a few times thinking that she would now understand what a difficult job I had all year. (Okay.. I will admit.. I slowed down a few times down the aisles)&lt;br /&gt;So, we get home... I open the door and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;lookie&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;lookie&lt;/span&gt;!!! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; is sitting so pretty on the couch. Hands in her lap, dressed so adorably. Her toothless smile so big, dimples so deep in her cheeks. She said with a high pitched voice, "Hi Mommy"!&lt;br /&gt;WOW!! I was IMPRESSED! I told &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; what a great job she did and thanked her several times before she bolted out the door. I finished up my slicing and arranging of the fruit trays, wrapped them and grabbed the keys. "Let's go, dolls"!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; jumped to her feet and sweetly asked, "So, Mommy, how many people will be at MY party?".......... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;UMMMMMMMMMM&lt;/span&gt;... HUH??!!!!&lt;br /&gt;"My party. How many people will be there?"&lt;br /&gt;My brain started to put it together and all I could think of was OH CRAP! I was trying so hard not to laugh at what Bryanna had done. I was irritated she had thought of that and I had not!  So now I have to tell my smiley little doll baby that her sister was very mean (yet, so creative... secret kudos to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt;) and the party wasn't for her. Good thing her 6 year old mind forgot all about it once we got there. I am definitely trying that out on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; one day, though! HA!! Genius! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-523232425840991654?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/523232425840991654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/06/bryanna-that-was-just-mean-gigglegiggle.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/523232425840991654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/523232425840991654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/06/bryanna-that-was-just-mean-gigglegiggle.html' title='Bryanna!! That was just MEAN! (giggle~giggle)'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-4631030499484871258</id><published>2010-05-21T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-21T21:47:17.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Woo Hoo for ME!!</title><content type='html'>I have made two new friends. Toss and Turn! Well, they aren't new I guess, but they are becoming frequent visitors in my bedtime life. They fight with each other and are always putting me right in the middle of their battle. Eventually I am forced to &lt;em&gt;'break it up&lt;/em&gt;' and jump to my feet with an unbalanced landing and cloudy vision. I drag myself to the kitchen for an unwanted glass of water, then peek in the fridge for no reason at all, head to the bathroom to admire my bedhead, my puffy eyes and slouching shoulders.  I crawl back into the ring aka: my bed, and start to make rules for Mr. Toss and Mr. Turn that will undoubtedly be ignored. Well things are going to change soon...&lt;br /&gt;The dolls are officially out of school and in my brilliant brain, I start to think of the most selfish positives I can. For example... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Yipee&lt;/span&gt;!!! I get to sleep in an extra HOUR!!! Woo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hoo&lt;/span&gt; for ME!! I don't have to help them get ready for school because grandma doesn't care if they show up in pajamas! Woo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hoo&lt;/span&gt; for ME!! Feed them? Really? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Naw&lt;/span&gt;.. that's okay, grandma LOVES making breakfast for them! Woo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hoo&lt;/span&gt; for ME!! Baths??? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Umm&lt;/span&gt;... well, they will be getting in the pool the minute they are done eating breakfast (or shall I pretend 30 minutes later), so they can shower after that... AT GRANDMAS! Woo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hoo&lt;/span&gt; for ME!! Okay, no more 'Woo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hoo'ing&lt;/span&gt;'... but &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Yipee&lt;/span&gt; for ME! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it through another year of school without a straight jacket! I would like an award please! I am a frequent passenger of the Crazy Train and I want my damn award already!! Big sigh of relief that I am here. Yes.. I know.. It is like a marriage when everything in the beginning was an everyday thing and now... well, ya know.. when I think of it, or am in the mood... I tickle the keys to write a little &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;somthin&lt;/span&gt;'. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hee&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hee&lt;/span&gt;.. do they make little blue pills for this sort of thing? Oh gosh! Did i really say that! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ahaha&lt;/span&gt;... and on that note... let's end this entry. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hee&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hee&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-4631030499484871258?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/4631030499484871258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/05/woo-hoo-for-me.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4631030499484871258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4631030499484871258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/05/woo-hoo-for-me.html' title='Woo Hoo for ME!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-7133778891941527879</id><published>2010-04-23T22:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T22:41:53.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Woo Hoo! Insanity lives!!</title><content type='html'>Lalalalalala!!! Do you think that if I filled up a page of singing to the rays of the sun I could hold your attention? Yeah.. didn't think so!! Hmm... let's see... life continues on the crazy path that I stepped on so long ago. It's gotten more challenging since I am a single mother raising 3 barnyard animals. The circus turned me down when trying to negotiate vacation for the girls. For some reason, they think caging them wouldn't be good. And WHAT? It's no different than the closet I keep them in at home!! Ugh! Okay~okay.... I really am kidding about that. My girls don't keep me on my toes, they knock me down with a perfect blend of insanity and laughter that just cannot be explained in words.&lt;br /&gt;Have I mentioned to you that my cutest little blue eyed doll Rylie is somewhat of a racist? Tell me you don't think that is funny! Just try it! She has her own racial profiling going on. You can tell if someone is a Mexican if they are holding a tortilla in their hand. Hey... I am just repeating!! Oh please! No gasping! She IS Mexican... I know it.. she denies it.... give a girl her dream why don't you! Sheesh!!&lt;br /&gt;Lauren has earned the blue ribbon for #1  MOMMY PATIENCE TESTER. A few times I think I actually saw the wheels spinning while she was working out a debate in her head. I am careful to word everything so there couldn't possibly be any loopholes. At this very moment... I still haven't figured out how to do that effectively!&lt;br /&gt;Bryanna... well... she is going to be 13 in a couple of months! Yup! Enough said!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have tried so many times to get back to doing what I love the most, next to my girls of course. Writing was my getaway from reality. Wait! Umm, that's wrong. It was me documenting MY reality. And WOW! What a wonderful reality I have. The chaos continues in such a way I couldn't possibly be anything but smiley!! Looking at my life from the outside, you might see that we don't have much of anything. I disagree and ask that you look a little closer. The blessings I have are coated with fun and uncontrollable happiness that only lives where I allow it to. A perfect life for me is a life that has my dolls in it. My little racist, debating, drama queen dolls!! Life is fabulous. Welcome once again to my insanity!! You'll love it here!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-7133778891941527879?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/7133778891941527879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/04/woo-hoo-insanity-lives.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7133778891941527879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7133778891941527879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/04/woo-hoo-insanity-lives.html' title='Woo Hoo! Insanity lives!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-1079597947269798635</id><published>2010-03-07T15:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-07T15:52:23.074-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Still squeezing the lemons life hands me</title><content type='html'>In my crazy world, things continue to change on a minute by minute basis. My girls adjust accordingly and manage to help continue the laughter within my marshmallow walls. I am handed these scripts in my life that I shake my head at and wonder what the ending will be.  Will the insanity get the better of me? Oh my goodness.... I hope so! I am comfortable living life through grape soda colored glasses.  They give off that extra fizz that sometimes I cannot manage to find. I try to teach my girls that in life you will meet people that will not be so positive. They will try to knock you down the mountain we have climbed together. It's okay to feel compassion for them. Not everyone will look at life the way we do, and in the end, you will still have a smile on your face with many around you, while they will continue to spread "moldy" vibes that will only make others turn away.  It has been so long since I have sat and written anything. I keep scheduling time and the schedule disappears with the sock in the wash. My intentions are good, but I suck at motivating myself for this ever needed therapy. I have this basket full of "life lemons" i can't seem to catch up on. I'm sick of lemonade..Ewww.  I already know what the first few entries will be. Yup! looking over this one already and haven't seen one sentence of running into doors, explaining the one eyed donkey, pull my finger or even the Food City story. Maybe this is my start.... again! I miss writing. I miss putting down my funny stories of Rylie and the "Mexican Kids". I haven't written in the book either... figures. So with this non funny, weird kind of spill your guts to get out the yucky, I hope to be making you laugh soon!! Until then, expect an "off" few entries... hope you stick it out with me!!&lt;br /&gt;Valeri&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-1079597947269798635?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/1079597947269798635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/03/still-squeezing-lemons-life-hands-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/1079597947269798635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/1079597947269798635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2010/03/still-squeezing-lemons-life-hands-me.html' title='Still squeezing the lemons life hands me'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-3208115642341312022</id><published>2009-12-12T13:53:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T13:53:35.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Holiday Story.... 2008 Christmas</title><content type='html'>As a parent I love watching my kids get excited for Christmas morning. And c’mon, who are we kidding… the bribery that comes along with Christmas…LOOOOOVE IT! It’s a pleasure having something to hold over my kid’s heads. A threat of Santa not stopping at our house is enough to buy me at least 30 minutes of quiet time here and there. And I really do love the fact that every year my little brother dresses up like Santa Clause with a tapeworm. He walks around the yard for a few minutes to really bring that “GET YOUR BUTT TO BED” plea. So, this weekend we put up Christmas lights around the outside of the house. We carefully placed our moving reindeer in the yard and anchored down the spiral Christmas tree in the decorative rocks. It was fun to watch the girls draw Holiday Greetings in chalk all over the driveway and on the sidewalk. It was equally as sad to watch the sprinkles of rain come and ruin the masterpieces they had just finished. We packed everything up, stored it back in the garage and lit up the lights. Well, most of the lights anyway. It never fails. I plugged them all in before Eric climbed up the ladder of death to string them along the tall peaks of the house. I KNOW they all worked. Every last one of them WORKED!! Up at the top, the icicle lights hung so pretty. He was irritated and said it would get done tomorrow. Umm. No. So here I go. Since I am about oh…. A foot and a half shorter than Eric, I actually had to climb to the very top rung. I replace 2 broken bulbs that were NOT there before, put the ladder back in the garage and stepped back to admire. What the hell? Now there is another portion that doesn’t work. I feel as if there is some Christmas Light Fairy laughing at me.I am such a visual person that I can actually see this little elf-like fairy with his mini sling shot taking out my bulbs. I shake the crazy out of my head and continue on. This time it wasn’t as high up. Again? Where are these broken bulbs coming from. Okay… we are good now. All the lights work on the front peak. I put the ladder BACK in the garage. Step back. Are you kidding me? Above the front porch! Forget it. Eric can do it another day. So we have a break in the flow. The lights are imperfect. Goes with the theme. I just noticed that the moving reindeer has a broken neck. He is thrashing around like a hunter just shot him.I am trying to maneuver his stick body to get the head back where its suppose to be but my clouded by the "psycho light fairy" judgement, I forget to unplug him first and go about a good, oh, 10 minutes before I realize that the back of his body WILL stop moving enough for me to mount his head if I just unplug the "soon to be tamale meat" reindeer!! Okay….. He’s fixed and I am done. In the house I go.... and a light wind…..the spiral tree is down for the count. I often wonder if things like this happen to everyone. Eric has this amazing ability to just walk away. He leaves it for another day and all is well in the world. ME? Well, it has to be done right then and there. I usually only give up at breaking point. All is NOT well in my world. So I wrapped up my Sunday telling the kids to leave the Advent alone! Don’t touch the soldier boy! Rylie! Those cranberries are decoration not food! No Rylie… you cannot open the tiny presents on the table… its decoration! I have NO IDEA where the stuffed Santa is! Rylie…. Did you open all of these little presents and then crumble all of the Styrofoam? I AM TAKING ALL OF THE DECORATIONS DOWN TOMORROW!!!!!... and the excitment of Christmas is done.....I think the Advent is for me. I can countdown the days of holiday chaos and look forward to normal everyday chaos. Chat with you soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-3208115642341312022?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/3208115642341312022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/12/holiday-story-2008-christmas.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3208115642341312022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3208115642341312022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/12/holiday-story-2008-christmas.html' title='A Holiday Story.... 2008 Christmas'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-4204715830174827417</id><published>2009-10-02T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T20:37:06.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Creeping thru the Blog door little by little...</title><content type='html'>The little fools and I are back in full swing! And woo-hoo for us!!! I haven't been here in awhile, yet it always feels like I never left. So during our time away... we have had cute readings about seasoning... for instance... &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Winter is a cold seasoning&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Rylie's book report was a spicy summary of the four different kinds of "seasonings". We had the cold seasoning, the seasoning where the flowers bloom, the seasoning where the leaves fall and the really hot seasoning that is sometimes put in hot sauce! hee hee hee.. Rylie is sooo cool!! She gave me the, 'I already know what they are called' look and asked me not to "cheat her" by giving her the answers. So, I let her create her spice filled book report with yummy descriptions of the year.&lt;br /&gt;Lauren has been on her game! She is like a human recording device. If I don't choose my words carefully, I will inadvertently agree to all sorts of things. Its the loophole she clings to with a tight grip and an open ear. I actually have used her in a few different situations with Bryanna. The minute I call out for my 'Lifeline'.. "I'd like to phone a friend", Bryanna knows her loophole was never really there in the first place an her battle has ended before the "but mommy's" can begin.&lt;br /&gt;Bryanna has discovered a world where ears don't exist, the fear of losing an eye due to extreme rolling no longer scares her, the thought of sucking her teeth down her throat is a known impossibility and the only thing that matters in life next to going to school for socializing purposes is the all important ability to text 27 people at once. This world of hers seems to have many signs that say 'OFF LIMIT'. Lucky for me I don't read Drama Queen..... speak it, a little, reading... naw!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Bryanna, in all her queen-ness, is a mirror image of me in some areas. We both love a good laugh and we love it even more if we are the ones providing the entertainment. Today, she called to inform me that she ran into a pole at school. Most moms probably would say first, "are you okay"? Not me!! First off, she was cracking up. I knew she was fine. Secondly, through the tears I was crying just picturing the '&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;BOING&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;' of the pole,  there was NO WAY I was in any condition to speak!&lt;br /&gt;Every time&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; I&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ran into something flashed through my head like a "Valeri's most clumsy moments" clip in fast forward. I love it! My little fools are so clutsy like me! No tears! No running for cover because they are sporting 5 shades of embarrassment red... Nope! Not my girls! They embrace it! They know that in this house the most dangerous thing to trip on is your shadow.. and watch out!! So it's an update kind of post with the hope that my regular postings will become 'regular' once again!! If you are still here.... yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-4204715830174827417?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/4204715830174827417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/10/creeping-thru-blog-door-little-by.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4204715830174827417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4204715830174827417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/10/creeping-thru-blog-door-little-by.html' title='Creeping thru the Blog door little by little...'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-8410643098038888264</id><published>2009-09-02T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T21:15:04.166-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AWWW... Found this old one in my Archives... When Rylie started Kindergarten last year!!</title><content type='html'>Hey, I kinda like being able to come in here and just write. So..this was the second week of school for the girls. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; started Kindergarten this year. I seriously believe whole &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;heartedly&lt;/span&gt; that the 3rd kid gets the shaft! When &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; started, I was weepy and excited. I was nervous and weepy. I was weepy! I hugged her before school and after school like I was sending her to an orphanage or something. I never wanted to let her go.&lt;br /&gt;Lauren... I was less weepy and more excited for myself and welcomed a bit of life on a schedule. I gave less of the Please don't leave me hugs and gave more of the I am really going to miss you now hurry and get your back pack hugs.&lt;br /&gt;With &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt;,I really wasn't weepy at all. Excited... yeah, but more so because I didn't have to drive &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;across&lt;/span&gt; town and drop her off anymore. The hugs I gave her on the first day were, I am going to miss you and thank you for finally being in school now RUN or you will miss the bus.&lt;br /&gt;A thought crossed my mind as I am typing this... if you don't know my sense of humor you are probably putting your hand over your mouth and gasping at the horrible mother I am. If you do know me, well then you totally picturing &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; running for the bus with her way too big backpack, pig tails flying through the air, with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; and Lauren trying to hold on to her hands and avoid mailboxes at the same time. All the while I sit there laughing that I actually sent them 15 minutes before the bus.Okay, I am done for today. Stay tuned... and don't take me so seriously. My house is wonderfully chaotic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-8410643098038888264?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/8410643098038888264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/09/awww-found-this-old-one-in-my-archives.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8410643098038888264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8410643098038888264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/09/awww-found-this-old-one-in-my-archives.html' title='AWWW... Found this old one in my Archives... When Rylie started Kindergarten last year!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-7449225771772913291</id><published>2009-09-01T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T21:17:17.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>But Mmmmoooooommmmm everyone else has one!!!</title><content type='html'>The oomph was knocked out of my sail by 6 grubby hands and 3 perfect smiles!! Sometimes a day will come that starts with so much energy, you feel the downfall almost immediately. Today was a special day in our household. Bryanna, my 12 year old, got a cell phone. Yes... I know... seems a little late these days, but hey... I told her she wasn't going to get one until she was 16. I caved.. i cracked... i gave in ... and what kind of mother does that make me anyway???? &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;THE COOLEST EVER!!! OH YEAH! OH YEAH! OH YEAH!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, maybe not &lt;em&gt;THAT&lt;/em&gt; cool. I &lt;strong&gt;WAS &lt;/strong&gt;in fact the last mother on earth to get a phone for her daughter you know. What? You didn't know? WoW! I was tricked! So I have been hearing the complaints and the "this and that" about why i should get her a phone. I have actually been hearing this since i think she was in the 2nd grade to be quite honest with you. I had to listen to the "but mom... so and so has had a phone for this amount of time and why can't I have one because i think i am passed the age where i should have gotten one and is it because you don't trust me because i will be soooooooo good and i will do &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;EVERYTHING &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;you say and i won't ask for anything else as long as i live". (yes... that is exactly how i heard it too) So I broke down, I did it... all the way home I laid down the rules that would be thrown out the princess diva Bryanna's window the moment we got home! &lt;strong&gt;UGH&lt;/strong&gt;! I have threatened to take it away more than half a dozen times already. I am trying to remember what it is like to be her age.... and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;OH MY GOSH &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I have to do this 2 more times!! I just opened a box of insanity and there is &lt;strong&gt;NO&lt;/strong&gt; prize at the bottom! Oh wait..... lookie here... it's a box of Insanity with marshmallow chaos in it! Awwwww... and I thought there wouldn't be a surprise! So wrong! I'm sliding down.... here comes the crash... wait for it... wait for it......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-7449225771772913291?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/7449225771772913291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/09/but-mmmmoooooommmmm-everyone-else-has.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7449225771772913291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7449225771772913291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/09/but-mmmmoooooommmmm-everyone-else-has.html' title='But Mmmmoooooommmmm everyone else has one!!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-6044747174386028318</id><published>2009-08-30T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T22:06:02.781-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Farts are always funny in my house!</title><content type='html'>Okay... I have sat at this computer for about 45 minutes now. My concentration stinks today... I felt drool starting to make its way down my chin! &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;UGH&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! Seems that these days I am struggling for funny stuff to write. I attempted to write about the "One eyed donkey" that was chasing Rylie the other night in her sleep. Every time I thought about it, I cracked up laughing. So I sat here, like I am now, and put words down. Hmmm, that didn't seem funny...as a matter of fact, it seemed kind of sad! WHAT? I am growing a conscience NOW?? OH~NO!! What will happen to me if I no longer thought the girls falling, tripping, running into things wasn't funny anymore? I had to walk away. Shaking my head in disappointment, I left the blog un touched. I needed a sign... a big ole' '&lt;em&gt;HAHAHAHAHA! LAUGH AT HER&lt;/em&gt;!' sign. That night I waited. I was desperate for the girls to fall.. anything! I contemplated tripping them then realized that might be taking it a bit too far. I thought.. okay... let's ask them a question and wait for a funny answer. Oh my gosh! It's not just me! The girls aren't being funny! What is my chaotic world coming to??? A serious one? I need back up... reinforcements... I tried to take a deep breath, close my eyes and put myself in a funny place. This is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;NOT&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; working! Goodness me... I am panicking. Hyperventilating. I can't breath. I.... I... nothin'! Sheesh. I let myself slip farther and farther into an opposite state of insanity. I can't do this.. oh wait... what's Rylie doing?  She is walking towards Bryanna.. I see the look... I think I see something in her eyes... yes... Yes.. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;YES!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Woo hooo! Rylie just farted by Bryanna, Bryanna got up and stomped her way to the room mumbling under her breath as Rylie fell down on the floor laughing. Okay, farts are ALWAYS funny!! Geez... you just can't lose with those can you! Rylie has an amazing way of being a disgusting cutie. Ha! you never thought you would see those two words put together did  you! Okay, so today's blog... a mushy mess of nothingness trying to stop the drool from hitting the floor. I don't know if it worked or not, I guess I am going to find out soon enough!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-6044747174386028318?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/6044747174386028318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/08/farts-are-always-funny-in-my-house.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6044747174386028318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6044747174386028318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/08/farts-are-always-funny-in-my-house.html' title='Farts are always funny in my house!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-6210437504372018693</id><published>2009-08-25T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T19:57:24.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An all about me post....</title><content type='html'>Ohhhhhh.... its a doooozy tonight! ~~ &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;SIGH &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;~~~ Sometimes therapy writing can be a good thing and sometimes it can be a very-very bad thing. Hmmm, which will it be tonight. Well, since my blog is about the girls, and perhaps this might be a family site... I will keep it on the very nice level. So I have often said when life hands you a lemon, you chuck it as hard as you can at the next person that comes along. Well, what if you get the whole lemon tree? Am i allowed to shove branches up their nose? Life has always been easy for me to smile through. I believe whole hearted that you smile because you remember the things you are thankful for and not the things that have brought you down. In an instant a smile can turn into a frown, a heart can bear a scar and eyes that once had a twinkle will start to dim. I have this amazing ability to pick myself up by the dragging soul and get through life knowing that everyday will be amazing. Sometimes I start the day with a heavy sigh... but it always end on a good note. Everyone needs a "Stephanie" in their life. She is my best friend and the one who talks me out of the freezer with a gallon of Rocky Road Ice Cream. Life seems to be insane in one form or another. Hey wait a minute... this has nothing to do with the girls at all! Sheesh... its all about me tonight. Hmmmm, what can I put in here so I feel better about this post?? Wow... I got nothing! hmmm.... let me think.... (insert blank thought here)...&lt;br /&gt;okay... well since these were suppose to be an every other day kind of postings, this one doesn't count!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-6210437504372018693?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/6210437504372018693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/08/all-about-me-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6210437504372018693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6210437504372018693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/08/all-about-me-post.html' title='An all about me post....'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-1053221320155357609</id><published>2009-08-24T20:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T20:55:09.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy came ' a callin' and I answered on the first darn ring! Sheesh!</title><content type='html'>Wow! I made it here again! Woo Hoo for me!! I am so slacking on many things these days. Writing, which has always been my getaway, is beginning to be yet another stress making me breakout like a teenager! UGH!! So I find myself whining more and more like the girls. Hey... sometimes it works, other times it starts a laugh fest. That is when I stomp my feet and head for the nearest door to slam. Not really, but gosh! I really ~ really want to!! We had another birthday (sigh), 36 feels the same as 35! WHAT? C'mon! I want a birthday party for all of my friends at Peter Piper Pizza! And why can't I have a princess birthday cake? Does anyone stop and think, maybe... just maybe a cool rock poster for my room would be appropriate? Oh yes, maybe it is because the inner working of this house is driving me to such a high level of inssanity (so needed that extra 's'), I can't stand myself. I find myself laughing for no reason. A creepy kind of laugh if you can believe this. I want to jiggle my eyeballs and run around the streets with my arms flailing while screaming "&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;COME GET THEM BARNUM AND BAILEY.... COME GET THEM&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;"!! Naw... I'm just venting. Ha ha! I think I would lose myself if the circus came 'acalling' for these precious animals I call daughters. My Rylie smiles and it puts things into place. Her dimples get me every time! Lauren is my wee bit of sanity that whispers in my ear....{ I love you Mommy... you're the best}. Bryanna brings all the chaos into my world right now. Her borderline teenage hood is kicking my butt! I know for a FACT I was not this difficult. I would shine my halo everyday before school, and on the way to the homeless shelter I would stop at the Orphanage to read the kids a story. (is anyone buying this)? Ehhh, okay... well I still wasn't this difficult. It's gonna take more than a whole roll of &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;SHHHHHH Tape&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; for this one!&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so this blog is taking a little longer than I wanted. I contemplated putting in a serious thought, (&lt;em&gt;bleh)&lt;/em&gt; made myself a little nausea's. Ewwww! Me? Serious? Ummmmm ... &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;NO&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! And so with that, lets end on this...Life is only meant to be serious some of the time. Enjoy the laughter while you can. Forgive the imperfections and smile knowing that you and only you can love your kids so much your heart will want to explode!! Smile ~ Laugh ~ Be Happy!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-1053221320155357609?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/1053221320155357609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/08/wow-i-made-it-here-again-woo-hoo-for-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/1053221320155357609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/1053221320155357609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/08/wow-i-made-it-here-again-woo-hoo-for-me.html' title='Crazy came &apos; a callin&apos; and I answered on the first darn ring! Sheesh!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-3504202985481565834</id><published>2009-08-19T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T22:09:50.693-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back into the swing of thangs!! Woot Woot!!</title><content type='html'>Ugh! It seems like forever since I have actually sat down and written anything. My good intentions have become nothing more than a thought that passes through the space between my ears. Summer has passed me by with a pat on the back and a slap in the face. &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WAKE UP SUNSHINE.... A WHOLE NEW LIFE IS AHEAD!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My Junior High Princess has become my Junior High Drama Queen with an attitude bigger than that little girl can handle. I keep saying that one of these days her eyes will roll right out of her head. I have started carrying a cup around just in case I need to catch those pretty blues on the way down.  I am battling the 'make up' pleadings and the "&lt;em&gt;OMGsh... I'm gonna be late.....AGAIN&lt;/em&gt;"! I can only do so much before my brain starts turning into oatmeal. I have started adding milk and sugar already.... breakfast anyone? I was hoping that the summer months would allow me to reload. Hmmm, wishful thinking as always. I truly know better than that, but... it would be so unfair to my spirit if I just came to grips with the fact each year is a little crazier than the last. I have always said I live for chaos. That is still a true statement, however, I think we may need to tweak it a little. I am trying to come up with a new way of describing my life. And OH MY  is that ever hard. My girls are still the cause/inspiration/motivation for my insanity, but life has taken a new turn. Insanity now has many meanings and some are proving to be harder than others to get through. I continue to find the humor in everyday life. Humor is what keeps the smile on my face and our feet planted on this quick sand ground we are dragging ourselves through.&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmm, so with this first posting after so long, I will get back into the swing of things and continue on with my funny little stories about my girls as they happen. Thank you for sticking it out with me! Yay!!! I am always happiest when I am making fun of the girls!! Look for an &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;every other day post&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! I might be able to handle that right now!!! Hoping all of your days are filled with smiles!!! See you very soon! Mwah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-3504202985481565834?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/3504202985481565834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/08/back-into-swing-of-thangs-woot-woot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3504202985481565834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3504202985481565834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/08/back-into-swing-of-thangs-woot-woot.html' title='Back into the swing of thangs!! Woot Woot!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-4784377025469407294</id><published>2009-07-20T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T22:40:47.537-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An old favorite of mine! (August 2008)</title><content type='html'>I am finding blogging to be quite the little joy in my life. This weekend is what I like to call "normal". Now please understand, my normal is other peoples "crazy". As everyone knows, it was my 35&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday. Yes, I know... but if I hear one more 98 year old person tell me I am a spring chicken, I'm gonna knock their walker out from under them and pinch the tube to their oxygen. What the hell is a spring chicken anyways? Okay, so we get the day and evening done with and at about 8:00 on Friday night, the girls get their second wind. We usually play hide and seek, or scavenger hunt, something like that to wind down. That night.... hide and seek it was! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt;... easy to find behind the entertainment center. Lauren... little bit more creative, under the pillows on the bed... blended right in. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt;.... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ummm&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt;? Oh crap, we lost &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt;.....again. Usually, she is the easiest. She gets a little too excited and giggles her way to being found. The girls and I looked everywhere. Under, over, in between... I was getting a little worried that she had snuck outside, but I wasn't convinced. So we continued on. I don't know what made me realize this, but after going through the kitchen a few hundred times, I realized my birthday cake was missing. Yeah, you know where I'm going with this don't you.... okay, so now &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; AND the cake are missing, and I still can't figure out where the heck she was. Normally my room is off limits because Eric was asleep for the night to get up early for work. It's never been an issue before and I was certain she had just really found an amazing spot to hide. After realizing the cake was also in on the game, I went to my room, opened the closet and found &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; with most of the cake eaten and the rest of it destroyed. She didn't even look surprised, she was so excited for me.... "MOMMY! Good job! You found me!" She picked up the cake, walked it back into the kitchen ever so sweetly, wiped her mouth upwards, pushed back her hair (I figured out the whole food on the forehead thing)and was ready for another round. I was trying very hard not to laugh at the sight of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; and Lauren's faces when they figured out what was going on. They stomped in the kitchen with their imaginary riot gear ready to attack. They were fuming that she mangled the cake and they only got one piece each. It turned into a bit of a shouting match between &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; and Lauren ganging up on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt;.I couldn't make out quite all of the insults, but Lauren was fit to be tied. You just don't mess with food when it comes to Lauren. The girls were pointing their fingers at &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; and telling her how mean she was to do this to mom's cake (yeah! I'm sure they were REALLY concerned about me more than the fact there was only half a cake left that looked like potting soil) Well, here we go.... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; finally put her hand up, and yelled, "&lt;em&gt;IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU DIDN'T WANT THE CAKE TO HIDE WITH YOU"!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;And scene..........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-4784377025469407294?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/4784377025469407294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/old-favorite-of-mine-august-2008.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4784377025469407294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4784377025469407294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/old-favorite-of-mine-august-2008.html' title='An old favorite of mine! (August 2008)'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-7049525901185704930</id><published>2009-07-17T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T23:27:53.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So COOL I border on chilly! hee hee...</title><content type='html'>When you have children, you morph into this really "&lt;em&gt;cool&lt;/em&gt;" parent that really isn't that &lt;em&gt;cool&lt;/em&gt; at all. If you have read any of my writings you will understand that my warped sense of humor is magnified by 3!  Life for me has taken so many turns in the last couple of months that it is difficult to know whether I should sit and laugh or bury my face in my hands and cry. Well, the crying option really &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;isn't&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; an option, so let's just toss that one out the finger printed window! Let's go back for a minute.... &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I AM SOOOO COOL&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! And why is it '&lt;em&gt;uncool&lt;/em&gt;' to say the word '&lt;em&gt;cool&lt;/em&gt;'?? I am confused. I guess it could be like my mother saying '&lt;em&gt;groovy'&lt;/em&gt; but naw, not really! I'm still cool! I want to get a shirt to wear that says, "I am Bryanna, Lauren and Rylie's COOL MOM"!  I can wear it everyday when I drop them off and pick them up at school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bryanna is starting Junior High this year. I am getting instructions little by little about what I am allowed to do and what is a definite 'NO-NO'. What this child, that has been around me for 12 years now, doesn't remember (and why is that anyway) is that she is giving me the best ammunition EVER! I am in fact taking notes on her instructions (you know where this is going right?) very carefully. I am dotting every little eye with a "roll", and crossing every 'T' with my fingers behind my back while nodding my head up and down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank God everyday that my girls have my sense of humor. The crazy, warped, fall down laughing before someone else laughs at you sense of humor! The insanity they bring to my life is the most loving affection a mother could ask for! That, and a sticky watermelon flavored kiss!! Mwah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-7049525901185704930?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/7049525901185704930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-cool-i-border-on-chilly-hee-hee.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7049525901185704930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7049525901185704930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-cool-i-border-on-chilly-hee-hee.html' title='So COOL I border on chilly! hee hee...'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-34364828399771633</id><published>2009-07-13T21:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T06:35:28.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A different kind of entry</title><content type='html'>Writing about real time is proving to be a bit difficult. I find myself squinting at the screen hoping my brain will gag some words out! My blogs are always about the girls and how they make me insane. Sometimes you will read about how I drive them insane (which I choose to leave out most of the time). I write about the funny things because sometime writing about the not so funny things makes the smile fall right off my face. Every now and again, and sometimes, more often than I care to admit, life offers up a new challenge that you neither want nor ordered. I've always tried to find laughter within the tears. I've managed a smile or two before the frown starts to form. And I, like most, put my hands together and pray that my new challenges will be accompanied by the angels that watch over me and the girls. Today is a different kind of blog. It's writing that I love to do, and so every now and again, one of these slippery little suckers will find its way to my page. My girls are the reason I find new things to smile about, they only know how to love me... and I happen to think that is the most wonderful feeling in the world!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-34364828399771633?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/34364828399771633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/different-kind-of-entry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/34364828399771633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/34364828399771633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/different-kind-of-entry.html' title='A different kind of entry'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-2402640535249152355</id><published>2009-07-12T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T18:23:40.895-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grumpy Mommy is not so funny</title><content type='html'>Do we ever grow up? I don't want to! I want to be silly and fun forever! I see these little grumpy old people with their scowls on their faces. I want to go up to them and squeeze their wrinkly cheeks and tell them to 'smile'. I don't want to be grumpy when I am old, and you know what??? My girls said I was grumpy!!! &lt;em&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;AHHHH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;!!! &lt;em&gt;Me&lt;/em&gt;?? &lt;em&gt;Grumpy&lt;/em&gt;?? &lt;em&gt;Seriously&lt;/em&gt;?? I admit, I had an "off " kind of day, but grumpy? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Geez&lt;/span&gt;!! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; told me to go take a nap, and Lauren wanted me to go sit and reflect ,and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt;... well, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; was hoping I would still say 'yes' to her having a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Popsicle&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;strong&gt;priorities&lt;/strong&gt;!) so she informed me that I &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;WAS NOT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; grumpy, that her sisters were just being very mean to me! I love that she is always on my side... even if I have to give into a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Popsicle&lt;/span&gt; or two. Such a short entry today. Why you ask.... because 'grumpy' doesn't make for funny writing. Now.. If I had walked into a closed sliding glass door while being grumpy, that would be funny. But, I haven't done that in at least a month!  Whew!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** NOTE: Please do not attempt to squeeze my cheeks and tell me to smile. I may bite off a finger! Hehehe!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-2402640535249152355?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/2402640535249152355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/grumpy-mommy-is-not-so-funny.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2402640535249152355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2402640535249152355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/grumpy-mommy-is-not-so-funny.html' title='Grumpy Mommy is not so funny'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-5780138033510202448</id><published>2009-07-09T21:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T21:52:35.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FACEBOOK CIRCLE OF MOMS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Welcome to my insanity!! Thanks for stopping by! I hope that you enjoy these chaos filled blogs as much as I do. I think you will find them familiar and "normal"! Laughter is one of the most precious gifts you can share with your children.... It's even more precious when you can point and laugh AT them while trying NOT to pee yourself! Hmmm.... geez... I'm not the only one that thinks like that am I?!?!?!  HAPPY READING!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-5780138033510202448?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/5780138033510202448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/facebook-circle-of-moms.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/5780138033510202448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/5780138033510202448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/facebook-circle-of-moms.html' title='FACEBOOK CIRCLE OF MOMS'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-7924706234000396766</id><published>2009-07-09T18:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T19:01:49.674-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Krazy Karcher Dinner Nights....</title><content type='html'>Some days it's a pizza kinda day. Some days its a breakfast for dinner kinda day. And even some days..... I am the coolest mom in the world and I let them eat whatever they can make themselves, as long as they make enough for everyone else! Bryanna makes pasta and sauce, Lauren makes scrambled eggs and Rylie makes PB&amp;amp;J! We sit at the dinner table and soak in the compliments of one another as we enjoy each others dinner. It's the most smiley kinda dinner when Lauren tells Rylie that she has never tasted a better sandwich, or how Rylie &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;'mmmmm's and wows'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; about the scrambled eggs from Lauren while asking, "&lt;strong&gt;What did you put in this&lt;/strong&gt;"? Bryanna's Pasta is delicious and makes the girls slurp (ugh) the sauce right off of the spoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my life, there are so many moments that I can remember allot of special things. These are the moments I want my girls to remember. Maybe every so often they will say that Mom cooked the best Chicken Parmesan, or Burros Enchilada Style and Tacos. Perhaps when they think about dinner time, they will remember that it wasn't about a dinner with matching plates, or saying grace... dinner as a family &lt;strong&gt;IS&lt;/strong&gt; our grace. My precious memories are mine.... I hope you make yours! Tonight so happens to be a Pizza and Wings Night... and Yay! I love to cook, but sometimes I think the girls want to feel like lazy little kids without chores! Tonight is just that kind of night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-7924706234000396766?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/7924706234000396766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/krazy-karcher-dinner-nights.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7924706234000396766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7924706234000396766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/krazy-karcher-dinner-nights.html' title='Krazy Karcher Dinner Nights....'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-7947698016688898981</id><published>2009-07-08T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T20:10:19.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A few things I love...</title><content type='html'>I love that my girls are silly. I love that they love to play. I love that life isn't always easy. I love that we dance in the rain. I love to see the lightning. I love hear the the thunder. I love to count the colors in a rainbow. I love that I can laugh. I love that my girls do too. I love that family is everything. I love that they love me too. I love so much it hurts sometimes. I love that I can cry. I love that smiles are overflowing. I love that chaos counts for living. I love that my house is fun. I love that my girls are ticklish. I love that they laugh &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;out loud&lt;/span&gt;. I love that I am their Mommy. I LOVE that I am their MOMMY!! I love hugs. I love kisses. I love drawings of the trees. I love &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;hand prints&lt;/span&gt; in plaster. I love when they say they need me. I love that I am always there. I love that they were meant to be mine. I love that they are &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;compassionate&lt;/span&gt;. I love that I am their Mommy and I love that they are my girls!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-7947698016688898981?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/7947698016688898981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/few-things-i-love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7947698016688898981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7947698016688898981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/07/few-things-i-love.html' title='A few things I love...'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-4884828824428557757</id><published>2009-06-30T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T12:19:27.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything is going up in price! $108.00 for a plastic meal!! OUCH! (an archive)</title><content type='html'>So I realized that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; may become a pretend money millionaire by the time she is 10. We were in her room, playing restaurant. She has the double sided kitchen that has the little window (makes for a great "drive &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt;"). So she said I could have whatever I wanted on the menu, but only if she knew how to make it. I wasn't allowed to order a soda because they only served water or tea (&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;atta&lt;/span&gt; girl). I placed my order very carefully, taking my cue from the littlest chef who advised me if it was what 'I' wanted or 'not a very good choice' .It was also a "do it yourself" kind of restaurant kitchen as when the chef had to take a potty break, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;'I'&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; as the customer, made sure my chicken didn't burn. When the littlest chef returned, I placed the spatula on the counter of the play kitchen. The chef turned to me with a funny look on her face and said, "&lt;em&gt;That is &lt;strong&gt;NOT &lt;/strong&gt;where that goes.... do you see the hook right here? It has to be put back in its place&lt;/em&gt;". Um, okay?! ... I apologized, but then I was booted from the restaurant kitchen anyway. She said she would call my number when my dinner was ready. As I waited in the "gift shop", also known as the living room, I heard the numbers being called one by one. I was given number 10 (which by the way I had to fight for because I was originally given a number that would have still not been called 2 hours later) So, I hear my number.... "&lt;em&gt;Number 10... your order is ready....calling number 10.... your order is now ready...... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;wooo&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hooo&lt;/span&gt;... number 10!!! Order is ready....&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hellooooooooo&lt;/span&gt;.... number 10 COME GET YOUR ORDER&lt;/em&gt;"!!!! She had the cutest little &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;twaing&lt;/span&gt; in her voice when saying it too. I had to compose myself before walking into '&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;RJ's&lt;/span&gt; Cafe' (which I did very well... &lt;strong&gt;THANK YOU VERY MUCH&lt;/strong&gt;). As I went to pay for my meal the register rang up at $108.00. I thought to myself... &lt;strong&gt;GENIUS&lt;/strong&gt;! I gave her $200.00 and received no change. She closed the restaurant kitchen after she was done and advised me I would also need to do my own dishes and put everything back in its proper place. What a concept! I love it!!! This is &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;WAY&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; better than a lemon aide stand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-4884828824428557757?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/4884828824428557757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/everything-is-going-up-in-price-10800.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4884828824428557757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4884828824428557757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/everything-is-going-up-in-price-10800.html' title='Everything is going up in price! $108.00 for a plastic meal!! OUCH! (an archive)'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-8530148997759340400</id><published>2009-06-29T23:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T23:04:36.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something might get done if I could remember what it was!!</title><content type='html'>Every now and again... and again... and again... my brain goes into overdrive. This happens when I know I have a hundred things to accomplish, but can't seem to start, continue, complete or sometimes remember what those are.As the school year wrapped up, so did my nice and tidy schedule of the morning. No more getting the girls up at 6:30 am to "get it together". Summer allows them the freedom to not have their hair pulled back tightly in a pony-tail or braided or styled or even combed! Who really wants to find clothes that actually match anyway? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; loves summer, its her time to be "free"! She dresses herself in the cutest '&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;mitch&lt;/span&gt; match' (as she calls them) clothes. She styles her own hair (in a messy pony-type side tail thingy), and loves that her socks are colorful and different from one another. Lauren is very particular with her clothes. Nothing can touch her belly button and she can't stand 'blue jeans' because really they don't match that well with anything (?????). &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; would like to wear her pajamas and slippers everywhere. As long as she doesn't have to get up even one minute earlier than absolutely necessary.. she's good.So schedules are out the window during the summer months and even though my 'hundreds of things' to do is less than what I am normally used to, I still can't seem to down shift. I also have a feeling that when the downshifting begins, it will be time to start school again, so really... what's the point anyway? We rush to hurry up and wait... and I hate waiting! And what was this post about again? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;, I can't even remember the simple things!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-8530148997759340400?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/8530148997759340400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/something-might-get-done-if-i-could_29.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8530148997759340400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8530148997759340400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/something-might-get-done-if-i-could_29.html' title='Something might get done if I could remember what it was!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-5709095303142244166</id><published>2009-06-28T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T12:21:01.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nurses, Chef's and Tornados! (an archive)</title><content type='html'>A headache just isn't a headache until you get the full nursing effect from your children. Personally I think its adorable that they come in and wake me up 50 times to ask me if I am okay. I think the way they get 2 inches from my face and in a whisper (&lt;em&gt;that is more of a creepy low voice&lt;/em&gt;),  to say.. "Mommy...Mommy...Mommy...Mommy....are you awake..."?.. is just enough cuteness to make you want to stick a hot poker in your eye. Uhhhh... too much cuteness for you too? Bryanna brought me a glass of orange juice, Lauren brought me some ice water and Rylie brought me a half empty Capri Sun. She said she got soooo thirsty from the kitchen to my room. The funny thing was, when I would pack Bryanna her lunch when she was younger, I had this fun little thing I did. I would take a bite of her PB&amp;amp;J so she would think of me at lunch time. She would say so cutely...."Mommy.. did you get hungry when you were making my lunch"? It's even more adorable now that she is "older", she likes to make her own lunch, and she will get her sisters theirs sometimes too... she always takes a bite out of their sandwiches. I thought it was precious.... Lauren on the other hand was disgusted that someone would give her their half eaten food. She is too serious sometimes (she is the sane one of the family). If she can't research it and prove her point, it's just wrong! So today was a try to rest with a headache kind of day that ultimately ended up giving me more of a pounding-eyes popping out of your head-ready to explode kind of day all the while trying to reassure the girls I felt so much better because of them. The real fun began when I crawled out of bed after my 5 hour downtime to find that not only did they cook dinner, they surprised me with company! Yes... a hurricane, tornado and storm came to visit. Wasn't that sweet? So.... the headache is gone but I believe a new one is forming. NURSE!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-5709095303142244166?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/5709095303142244166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/nurses-chefs-and-tornados.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/5709095303142244166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/5709095303142244166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/nurses-chefs-and-tornados.html' title='Nurses, Chef&apos;s and Tornados! (an archive)'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-5659181845870300686</id><published>2009-06-27T22:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T00:02:49.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Definitions of "boy talk"...</title><content type='html'>So today &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; turned 12! I don't feel old... I feel OLD! Ugh! As with any new birthday, comes a different personality. Being older means looking back at past ages and referring to them as "&lt;em&gt;when I was a kid&lt;/em&gt;". I figure, when I am referring to being 34... I am going to use that line! It's great that around these ages no presents need to be bought. Money is the new "&lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt;". I don't mind, less brain damage for me, and she won't have to smile and pretend to like it. As we creep closer to being a teenager, I find myself in a bit of a panic. I was hoping she would start to go through her "ugly" stage. Ha ha! Okay, that sounded worse written down than it did in my head. I don't want her to be ugly, but who am I kidding.... I would love for her to not be noticed by boys until her grey hair starts to come in. Even though we can't keep our kids young forever, we can give them a little advice. For example... &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;IF&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; a boy asks you to "go out"... he is really saying, you need a mint because your breathe smells really bad. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;IF &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;a boy says you are pretty... he is really saying, I think you are ugly, but your friend is adorable. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;IF &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;a boy asks for your phone number... he is really saying, give it to me so I can pass it out to a hundred of my friends and crank call you. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;IF &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;a boy wants to sit with you at lunch... he is really asking for your dessert and then will &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;spread&lt;/span&gt; rumors that you "heart him". So... with this quick lesson I ask that you all learn these so as not to ruin my little plan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-5659181845870300686?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/5659181845870300686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/so-today-bryanna-turned-12-i-dont-feel.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/5659181845870300686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/5659181845870300686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/so-today-bryanna-turned-12-i-dont-feel.html' title='Definitions of &quot;boy talk&quot;...'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-9210391519590332809</id><published>2009-06-15T20:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T21:01:17.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CLOSE YOUR EYES AND GO TO SLEEP!</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel like pulling my hair out! Okay... all the time I feel like pulling my hair out!! Girls are LOUD! Why do they feel the need to shout everything to each other? Indoor voices to them mean they are inside and everyone outside can hear them. Right now, at this very moment, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; has taken on the Mommy role. She keeps going in to check on the girls in bed. The first time was in her sweet voice, "Mommy is trying to write... you need to go to sleep". The second time is with a little more OOMPH... "Mom is TRYING to write... go to sleep"!.. The third, fourth and fifth time all began with "UGH!!!! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;SHHHHHH&lt;/span&gt;!!!.....&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yadda&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yadda&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;yadda&lt;/span&gt;".  (I couldn't tell what was said because she was gritting her teeth) The final straw for her I heard in a deep grunting-talking through her teeth-face getting red kind of voice yell...."SANTA CAN SEE YOU! YOU GUYS NEED TO BE QUIET!! I AM MAKING A CAKE AND YOU WILL GET NONE"!!!  As she is yelling, I am trying my best to keep up ... typing away... UH OH... here she comes... whew!  She walked right by me. This is quite entertaining actually... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hmmm&lt;/span&gt;... I wonder if she can hear &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; singing...and there is Lauren yelling, "STOP IT &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;RYLIE&lt;/span&gt;.. I CAN HEAR YOU". I want to stop laughing, really I DO.. but if you were here you would be laughing too. And &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; is asking for reinforcements. So with that, I am done with this meaningless blog that did nothing for you but it put a smile on MY face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; showed about 2.10 seconds of patience. Good job Breezy! Your time is getting better!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-9210391519590332809?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/9210391519590332809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/close-your-eyes-and-go-to-sleep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/9210391519590332809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/9210391519590332809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/close-your-eyes-and-go-to-sleep.html' title='CLOSE YOUR EYES AND GO TO SLEEP!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-6874981643527059137</id><published>2009-06-12T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T06:39:19.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm counting on "normal" to come home soon... waiting... waiting....</title><content type='html'>Sometimes in life, things happen that you don't predict. My plans have always been to stay happy, continue laughing, pull the positive out of every negative and don't trip! I have all but the &lt;em&gt;'not tripping'&lt;/em&gt; part down! I have been absent. Has anyone noticed? I think life has handed me a rotten tomato... and what do I do with it anyway? Lemons .. I can handle.. Tomatoes... eeew! I don't want it! Take it someone please! Oh wait.... here comes a kid....hold on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;** woot woot! 10 points **&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to say that life for me is always fun. For the most part.. it really is! I love playing with my girls! I love that they act silly with me and don't care about singing loudly in the car and dancing like a bunch of little fools! We continue on even when life hands us one of those rotten tomatoes. It's refreshing to see that my girls have learned a few things from me. One... if you knock something over in a store, RUN! ... Two, when you see someone trip, try not to laugh out loud. And Three, during the hard times in life you can always count on your Mommy to give you the first hug, the first kiss, the first words of encouragement and the first "&lt;em&gt;things happen for a reason&lt;/em&gt;" speech. It's quite funny to hear my girls give me the same speech when something doesn't go right for me. Sometimes I think they listen a little too well for their own good!&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm... never thought I would say &lt;em&gt;those&lt;/em&gt; words!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-6874981643527059137?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/6874981643527059137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-counting-on-normal-to-come-home-soon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6874981643527059137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6874981643527059137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-counting-on-normal-to-come-home-soon.html' title='I&apos;m counting on &quot;normal&quot; to come home soon... waiting... waiting....'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-8540334689489865520</id><published>2009-06-03T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T05:43:11.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I lost a day! Uh-oh</title><content type='html'>Please return my day if you have found it. I seemed to have missed my own little deadline of Tuesday. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;. Have I mentioned my brain is mush? Yes! I did! Summer is here and with it comes bored little girls that can have all the entertainment in the world AND STILL complain that there is nothing to do! Summer camp is &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;sooo&lt;/span&gt; awful! Oh my goodness... I would really like to have 5 days of playing! I want to go to the movies and the pool and bowling! I wouldn't complain... please! I promise! Uh... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hmmm&lt;/span&gt;... HEY! I whine better than they do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so here goes the ranting of the day. Don't touch that! Don't touch that! Don't touch that! ((((CRASH))))).... you touched it didn't you??  I talk to hear myself talk. I know.... shocking isn't it? While I love to have conversations with myself, I must confess, sometimes its nice if someone just pretends they were listening. I don't have any particular moment in mind. Just in general. I can't say something sticks out more than another, but its there. So here I go again, talking to hear myself talk.  (((( hello? is anybody out there ))))... Am I the only one that feels like I'm in a room with great echo? Hey... I want to break out in song right now! UGH! Okay, this was about sometimes needing to scream. Not an inner scream.... a glass breaking, earth &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;shattering&lt;/span&gt;, hair pulling, crazy lady in isle 4... kind of scream. Whew! that felt good! See! Now I'm good for another couple of weeks! It's our reset button. And now I am ready to face the day!! I feel like these are becoming my little nonsense blogs. I guess I should mention the girls a little more since they are my inspiration. So... let's &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;seee&lt;/span&gt;... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hmmm&lt;/span&gt;.... My girls are the reason I can shake my head and hear my brain rattle!&lt;br /&gt;And life is all good once again! Enjoy the day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-8540334689489865520?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/8540334689489865520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-lost-day-uh-oh.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8540334689489865520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8540334689489865520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-lost-day-uh-oh.html' title='I lost a day! Uh-oh'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-3817266905371723351</id><published>2009-05-29T05:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T05:20:06.795-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A blender full of thoughts</title><content type='html'>When life hands you a lemon, you chuck at as hard as you can at the next person that comes along. All of life's little challenges seem to come all at once. It's only mean to laugh at others if they hear you! So what can you do... smile knowing that today will be the day of surprise! Surprises like when you find a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lizzard&lt;/span&gt; in a box in Laurens room. Or surprises like when you find a bag of cookies in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Rylies&lt;/span&gt; drawer. Or maybe the days surprise is that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; has finally sucked her teeth so hard at me, she swallows one. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;. Sometimes my brain feels like oatmeal. Warm mushy oatmeal!!! It's hard to stay focused these days. Summer brings a new shade of chaos and the new surprises life offers is bordering on panic attack. Today's blog is about thoughts. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt;. My thoughts, well.... let's see.... with oatmeal for a brain right now, the only thoughts I have are milk and sugar. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-3817266905371723351?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/3817266905371723351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/blender-full-of-thoughts.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3817266905371723351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3817266905371723351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/blender-full-of-thoughts.html' title='A blender full of thoughts'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-611431295904495287</id><published>2009-05-26T23:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T23:26:23.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Tid bit...</title><content type='html'>Everyday is a different day in my house. We make most things fun and try to be fair to all. Sometimes this isn’t possible. For those times, you try to figure out which child will scream and yell the least and break the bad news to them. You might start to see why my way of thinking is confusing. My universe is confusing. I rely on my “grown-up” friends to keep me sane enough to pass for an adult. As hard as I try to get my children to act more like me, I start seeing that I am acting more like them, and how did they get like that in the first place?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-611431295904495287?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/611431295904495287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-tid-bit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/611431295904495287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/611431295904495287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-tid-bit.html' title='A New Tid bit...'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-2619195248680238774</id><published>2009-05-24T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T17:45:06.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rylie's Beauty School</title><content type='html'>There are so many moments you remember in your children's lives. Aside from the obvious births, talking and walking, I remember other things. I remember the first time Bryanna ate Ice Cream or when she tried to flush 2 chicken drumsticks down the toilet. I remember Lauren's attachment to those little dancing hamsters that would sing and dance me right into a migraine. Or the time Lauren was listening to music on the headphones….Bryanna's headphones. Bryanna was so mad she turned up the volume as high as it would go prompting Lauren to jump up and scream, "&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;BRYANNA! YOU ALMOST BLEW MY BRAINS RIGHT OUT MY BUTT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;"! I can still see Rylie throwing Lauren's shoes in the garbage because they were left on the living room floor. That was actually a proud moment for me that one of the girls had really listened to me about leaving things on the floor. Then the proud moment turned into 2 hours of searching for my keys before realizing they fell on the floor as I was bringing in groceries and Rylie took matters into her own hands. Sometimes the lessons you teach come back and bite you right in the ass!So… within these cute little laughable memories, that are really only funny much long after they have happened, I remember the day Bryanna cut her hair. And the day Lauren cut her hair. And now…. The day Rylie cut her hair, both times. Rylie has this beautiful long blondish hair that is/was all one length. It was Wednesday morning about 7am. The girls were in their usual morning moods. In my house, it's an hour of whining and complaining and fighting for brushes, hair spray, toothpaste and mirror time. I had just set Rylie's clothes out and walked into the bathroom. I heard Bryanna say, "Rylie? When did you get bangs"? It didn't faze me. I didn't flinch. I yelled from the other room in what I imagine was the third to last chipper statement, question or calm words of the morning, "she just woke up, she doesn't have bangs, her hair is messy". A few moments later, I called out to Rylie to come in the bathroom so I could do her hair. I hear this sweet little voice say, "no thank you". Ummmm. Huh? Now... the tone of her voice should have made me drop everything and run outside to see if, in fact, the world was coming to an end. I said it with a little bit more oomph, but still not raising my voice, "Rylie… come in the bathroom so I can fix your hair". And again, in such a soft (not normal), so sweet (kinda creepy) voice I hear…"no thank you mommy I will do my own hair". At that point, I still had not put Bryanna's prior question into play. I figured Rylie was being more difficult than most mornings just without the yelling and screaming. I didn't say anything, just walked into the room where I found her with her head buried in the pillow and her butt sticking up like a stinkbug. I took her hand and got her up and much to my surprise…."&lt;strong&gt;RYLIE!!! WHAT DID YOU DO???????"&lt;/strong&gt; My shoulders dropped. I let out a sigh and then let out a rapid fire of questions that had no punctuations other than a thousand exclamation points at the end. &lt;strong&gt;OH MY GOD RYLIE YOU CUT YOU HAIR WHEN DID YOU CUT YOUR HAIR WHY DID YOU CUT YOUR HAIR WHERE DID YOU GET SCISSORS WHERE IS THE HAIR DID YOU DO THAT LAST NIGHT?!!!!!&lt;/strong&gt; I was out of breathe and shook my head as I awaited an answer to at least &lt;em&gt;ONE&lt;/em&gt; of the many questions. I sat her down and assessed the damage. I'm repeating over and over all of the questions when I realize. Hmmmmm. She did a &lt;em&gt;REALLY&lt;/em&gt; good job! She even put a part on the top of her head. It's even. The cut is straight. No stray hair. CRAP!!! She did better than I would have done. Sometimes you try to pull the good out of a bad situation. How can I redeem myself from this lesson? She did a good job. She looks freakin' adorable with bangs!! She made sure she cleaned the mess when she was done. I had to do the whole, "scissors are for cutting paper not hair… blah blah blah…So for now, I'm not sure what memory vault to file this one in. After being through it twice already, I think my action was pretty good. With Bryanna I cried. With Lauren I freaked. With Rylie, well, I am taking appointments! Enjoy your day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-2619195248680238774?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/2619195248680238774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/rylies-beauty-school.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2619195248680238774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2619195248680238774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/rylies-beauty-school.html' title='Rylie&apos;s Beauty School'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-3120365949777867143</id><published>2009-05-23T13:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T13:47:16.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writer's Block of Melting Ice...</title><content type='html'>I have written this entry 10 times already. I have writers block! AGAIN! I never really run out of material, I just haven't started writing in "real time" yet. When I write, I think about things past. I love looking back and remembering a funny little story that will bring a smile to any one's face. I think it is because some of the funny things of yesterday aren't quite that funny until a little bit of time has gone by. Lauren is desperately trying to make the 'cut' for tonight's entry. She has brought up so many topics I think my writers block is really overload. I find this particularly funny because she is the one who is always telling me to change her name in my stories. Well, maybe she only says that when she is mad. Who knows! I have all these thoughts in my head that are cram packed in there. I just don't know what to do with them. I have these clusters of drafts hanging in my files filled with all these great stories. I love that I have some "me" time. It's rare. It's unheard of. It just doesn't happen in my house. I run around to games and concerts and productions and field trips and on and on and on. I am always doing something. Although when I do have a little me time, I usually need noise and chaos to feel right. I can't be in the quiet too much. It just doesn't work for me. After about the 1st hour I am bored out of my mind! Ugh! I can't focus on the chores I wanted to do or the shopping in complete bliss without children or a list... I don't do lists!! I find myself out somewhere looking for the girls. Thinking that I lost them. Rylie stayed at her grandmas the other day and I went out of my mind a couple of times because i couldn't find her. I started to panic a little.... just a little though, when I realized THAT CHILD ISN'T HERE!!!And then about 3 minutes after the girls get home, I remembered why I needed the me time in the first place and I wish them away... just kidding. they always come back! shheeesh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-3120365949777867143?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/3120365949777867143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/writers-block-of-melting-ice_23.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3120365949777867143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3120365949777867143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/writers-block-of-melting-ice_23.html' title='Writer&apos;s Block of Melting Ice...'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-5218974552318770135</id><published>2009-05-21T06:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T06:29:47.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A RE-POST: The meanest mom EVER!!</title><content type='html'>I love that my girls say what is on their mind. They are much like me when it comes to telling it like it is. If you haven't read any of my Notes, blogs, whatever they are being called... you might not understand that I see humor in everyday life. I encourage my girls to tell me how they feel. I would love to say it is because I am the kind of Mother that finds self expression to be a "release" if you will. I would love to say it's because the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Psychodoctormabobs&lt;/span&gt; say it is good for them to feel like they have a voice. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; love to say it.... I can't... I encourage them because I understand how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;freakin&lt;/span&gt;' funny it is to listen to an 8 year old and 5 year old tell me "like it is". And seriously.... I am ALWAYS looking for good material for the blog. Lauren, as usual, was questioning why I wouldn't let them do something. The "something" was insignificant to me, but obviously, important to her. After several "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;No's&lt;/span&gt;" and the stock answer of, "I'm sorry my reason isn't good enough for you" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;schpeeeillll&lt;/span&gt;, she gave me the, ' I cannot believe you' eyebrow raise and pushed her glasses up. She looked me square in the eyes and said, "I'm gonna have to check on this..... but I am pretty sure you are the MEANEST mom EVER"!&lt;br /&gt;I cannot say for sure what her "checking" uncovered. I am waiting for the results as we speak! Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-5218974552318770135?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/5218974552318770135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/repost-meanest-mom-ever.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/5218974552318770135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/5218974552318770135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/repost-meanest-mom-ever.html' title='A RE-POST: The meanest mom EVER!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-6634814583344808886</id><published>2009-05-19T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T05:57:13.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Too many pictures of child #1... and Rylie STILL gets the shaft!</title><content type='html'>Writers block is clouding my mind! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ahhhh&lt;/span&gt;! Today was another "run me into the ground" kind of day. The last week of school means many-many parties, farewells, making of gifts and cards and on and on..... times 3!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a beat down Momma! I started remembering when the girls all started school and how I have changed in my routine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; I would search her backpack after school. Take out all the trash and graded papers and read EVERY notice that came home. With Lauren, I would tell her to clean out her backpack, remind her to put her papers away, and ask her if there were any notices for me. With &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt;, well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; has a backpack full of snack wrappers, graded papers, school notices and some of her sisters valuables too. Now I find out the day before the event or the day of. Ugh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started when we found 25, 563 pictures of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt;. Then we looked for Laurens and found 427 pictures of her. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; has only 3 pictures and one of them was given to me by another parent! Okay, I exaggerated a bit... Lauren did NOT have that many. My point is this.... as we add more pairs of dirty little feet to the craziness that we call "life", we tend to loosen up a bit on the "Psycho Mom that does everything perfect" role. We no longer call our kids sweetie and honey in the grocery store when they are acting like little animals. We smile, get down to their level and threaten to sell their toys if they don't behave!! My girls love to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;independent&lt;/span&gt;. Personally I love it too! I don't so much care that my 5 year old would like to wear her dress shoes to the softball game because they are "&lt;em&gt;pretty&lt;/em&gt;". I allow them to dress themselves even if they don't match. And if my girls want to go out with bedhead, well really... who is going to care?When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; was little, she never made it out of the house without her hair combed so tight she could barely blink. Lauren's hair was cut short for minimum up-do... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt;, well..we all know &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; gets the shaft! Just Kidding! I do her hair. I guess there are some thing that we still do the same. So the routines haven't completely gone out the window I guess.&lt;br /&gt;So today's post I guess is just a little of everything in my bowl of &lt;em&gt;'chaos soup'&lt;/em&gt;. I'd give you a spoon, but the girls keep taking them out to the garden and losing them. I expect one day someone is going to dig up the backyard for some reason and find 100 spoons deep in the ground. Ha! Hopefully they like soup.&lt;br /&gt;Huh, imagine that... the block is gone. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;. Good deal!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-6634814583344808886?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/6634814583344808886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/too-many-pictures-of-child-1-and-rylie.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6634814583344808886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6634814583344808886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/too-many-pictures-of-child-1-and-rylie.html' title='Too many pictures of child #1... and Rylie STILL gets the shaft!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-8478225517886296959</id><published>2009-05-17T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T19:00:11.689-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How about Lip gloss glue??</title><content type='html'>Why would it be cruel to change the label of a glue-stick to make it look like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;lip gloss&lt;/span&gt;? I think that would be funny! Personally, I think someone is missing the boat here. I wrote a while back about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;shhh&lt;/span&gt; tape, but lately... glue is on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wish list&lt;/span&gt;. I found that if you give the kids good ole fashioned caramel blocks it takes them a while to chew it. Instant quiet for a few minutes. The dentist didn't think that was very funny, but seriously, don't we have to keep him in business somehow? So I am always coming up with new ways to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;discipline&lt;/span&gt; in a fun and humorous way. Okay, who am I kidding... fun and humorous for ME!!!  Yes... I know.... out of the ordinary, but I really did think it was a crack up when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; and Lauren would not stop arguing, so I tied a jump rope around their waists and made them be stuck together for 2 hours. Lauren was mortified at the thought of having to go to the bathroom together. For the first 15 minutes they fought it. Trying to go opposite ways and falling several times. The getting up part was the funniest ever! When they figure out how to walk, you would see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; dragging Lauren walking backwards around the house. Lauren sat on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Bryanna's&lt;/span&gt; lap to watch a TV program and they both avoided the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;dreaded&lt;/span&gt; bathroom visit. They even managed to squeeze on one dining room chair and eat dinner too. By the time the 2 hours was over, they were working together and laughing allot. Poor little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; thought it looked fun so she tried to pick a fight with girls so she could be tied to someone. I finally wrapped Daddy's belt around her and a doll. (((sigh))) it just wasn't the same. I do things differently. If ever there is an opportunity to laugh, laugh, laugh, well then I want to be in the middle of it! A silly house makes for silly girls and silly girls makes a fun life!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-8478225517886296959?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/8478225517886296959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-about-lip-gloss-glue.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8478225517886296959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8478225517886296959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-about-lip-gloss-glue.html' title='How about Lip gloss glue??'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-6049165981065122233</id><published>2009-05-16T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T22:46:19.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The characters in my stories...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;I found this entry sitting in my drafts. I kept meaning to post it, and well... it never got done. I wrote it to introduce the girls before I started writing mean and horrifying stories about them. Well, here we are 2 weeks worth of entries later and I am just getting around to it. So, even though they have written their first blog entry for me, I wanted to post this so you can get an even better idea of who you are reading about. And just in case you find in here somethng I may have already written, my apologies in advance. Enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;*******************************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A little bit about the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bryanna&lt;/strong&gt; is our oldest. At 11, she has perfected the eye roll, the teeth sucking and slamming of doors while stomping. Quite the little multi-tasker she is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lauren&lt;/strong&gt; is my 8 year old smarty pants. She questions, prods, researches and eventually argues her way to being right. If she doesn't get her way, she also stomps and slams doors, however... she also screams. Very loudly I might add.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rylie&lt;/strong&gt; is the angelic looking 5 year old terror we fondly refer to as Hurricane Rylie Cat 5. She is sneaky and mean and has everyone fooled with her long blond hair and sky blue eyes. It doesn't hurt that she has her two front teeth missing and is adorable when she smiles. Watch you back with this one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell the girls my goal in life and my purpose for being here is to embarrass them as much as possible and have a whole lot of fun in the process. So far so good. No one has lost an eye or &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;actually &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;been sold to the circus, although I threaten it at least once a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls think I am doing this BLOG as a form of punishment. Really?? Geez, thank you! That is the sweetest thing anyone has &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; said to me. (sniff-sniff)&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so now you know a little about the characters in my stories. I hope that you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them. The girls wanted me to add a notation to this. They are strongly against this form of embarrassment. They would like me to change their names. I just don't have the heart to tell them no, so we just won't tell them! Shhhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-6049165981065122233?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/6049165981065122233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/characters-in-my-stories.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6049165981065122233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6049165981065122233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/characters-in-my-stories.html' title='The characters in my stories...'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-7567300641108897530</id><published>2009-05-14T21:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T07:31:01.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We don't pay for noise!!!</title><content type='html'>What is it about birthdays and holidays that make the grandparents buy the loudest toys ever? Why revenge of course! Why is it that I was never allowed to have toys that made noise, but all of a sudden ... my kids have drums, guitars, recorders, dolls that talk and then become very creepy when the batteries start to die. &lt;strong&gt;Please don't buy my kids noise&lt;/strong&gt;! Ugh... noise is free at my house. And then... to top it all off.... Playdough?? Huh?? I was soooo not allowed to play with Playdough! You bought Playdough for the kids you didn't like so much, and wrapped it with cowbell too! I like to pretend I know so much more about parenting after 3 kids. I don't. I have made peace with my Mother hoping she would take the curse of &lt;em&gt;'maniac children&lt;/em&gt;' off of me. Nope! Still there! You don't see enough what I like to call "&lt;em&gt;normal&lt;/em&gt;" lives of kids. There isn't enough Super Nannies in the world to go around and tame our wild little children. Why must I have to hear, "DON'T TOUCH ME"! a thousand times a day? Is it necessary to believe that if you don't sit where you want to, life would be different? It is all of these wonderful imperfections that make life great! Why must I laugh at the life I live? Because it's mine. And it is probably yours too! You are as normal as I am. And let me tell you one day my girls will say to me... "Mom, please don't buy the kids noise... it is free at our house".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-7567300641108897530?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/7567300641108897530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/we-dont-pay-for-noise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7567300641108897530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7567300641108897530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/we-dont-pay-for-noise.html' title='We don&apos;t pay for noise!!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-8602077131469476324</id><published>2009-05-14T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T09:07:51.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Message from the girls!...I wasn't allowed to read these until i promised to post as is!</title><content type='html'>Hi my name is Bryanna. I think you all know by now that I’m in my mom’s blogs!! I am the oldest of all of the BRATZ and guess what I’m NOT the worst. That’s my lil’ sis Rylie!!! Who is right now asleep when we’re supposed to be getting ready for school! WOW Rylie!!! Let me tell you a little bit about my mom since my mom talks about us!!!!! In the mornings my mom dances to HEAVY METAL(WOW mom) and Demi Lavato! She talks in different voices and makes us laugh! I love it when she does that.! When we don’t wake up in the morning she sings Opera making up her own words!!!!!! I also forgot to tell you she dances to the beat of her own drum(how Lame mom.) That’s only a little slab of our family your going to have to read my mommy’s blogs to find out MORE!!!!!!!!!! Bye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi I’m Lauren. Mom talks about me in her blogs. Don’t worry she is not typing for me. I am eight years old. I always tell mom to put her indentation when she is writing. She never listens to me like always. Why do you think our life is so fun and crazy?! I know why. We argue, yell, fight, and scream. But we also play with each other and laugh a lot mostly at each other. I love my mom. I have muscley (I think that’s how you spell it)legs like my mommy. And I laugh just like her too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am Rylie. I am 5 im not a brat&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-8602077131469476324?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/8602077131469476324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/message-from-girlsi-wasnt-allowed-to.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8602077131469476324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8602077131469476324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/message-from-girlsi-wasnt-allowed-to.html' title='A Message from the girls!...I wasn&apos;t allowed to read these until i promised to post as is!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-3530023402498782062</id><published>2009-05-12T20:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T20:30:52.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LOST and FOUND ? Rylie took it!!!</title><content type='html'>The word complicated will change meanings many times over the course of my girls’ lives. I think I may be overusing it as we go along. I had hoped, maybe expected that life might get easier as the girls got older. Unfortunately, the way life is around here, it just got louder. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Rylie&lt;/span&gt; has had hours and hours of fun hiding things from the girls. Shoes… backpacks… homework… permission slips… toilet paper. She finds it rather amusing to watch the girls go into major meltdown mode when they are looking for something they set down for 2 seconds. At first, she would laugh and laugh and giggle while standing right next to whatever she was hiding. What a rookie! Now… she is all business baby! She has the best poker face I have EVER seen. She even helps them look for whatever it is they have lost. After about 10 or 15 minutes, she will suggest to the owner of said lost item that they put up a “reward” if found. In under 2 minutes (very well timed I must say) she proudly presents the lost whatever it is and collects what the girls have put on their “LOST!  REWARD!“ sign. After handfuls of candy, hard earned allowance and half of their desserts, they finally figured it out. They now to go right to the source and start the negotiations on what we like to call “ransom“. Reading about my craziness might seem funny to you. I think its hilarious! My well behaved daughters (on strike) feel differently. I knew that I had to be careful when attempting to write while they were around. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt; no longer thinks what I am doing is cool. She now thinks I am doing this to ruin her life.  Poor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bryanna&lt;/span&gt;… its always about her. What about her sisters? I am trying to ruin their lives too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-3530023402498782062?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/3530023402498782062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/lost-and-found-rylie-took-it.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3530023402498782062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/3530023402498782062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/lost-and-found-rylie-took-it.html' title='LOST and FOUND ? Rylie took it!!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-2395756747720419860</id><published>2009-05-11T20:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T20:22:57.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My tWiStEd inspiration</title><content type='html'>We are on a whole new level of insanity now. I try to go through my thoughts and really pick out the things that inspire me. Chaos, as you know, is a word that fits very well in my well rounded, kind of square with a triangle point family. I catch the girls looking over their shoulders after running into a sliding glass door, or coming near me to tell me a joke that really isn’t funny to me, but makes the other two fall to the floor and giggle till they pee. They don’t know that it’s all of those things that cause them to get mad, angry and cry are the stories that will undoubtedly make it into my blogs. I know, I know… you think I am mean. I’m not. I do in fact come to their rescue when they are ‘&lt;em&gt;really hurt’&lt;/em&gt;. I recognize that they get their egos bruised and their self esteem is fragile. I am a mother, but not Theresa. I love that my kids jump up off the ground and look to see if I am standing there after tripping on their feet. I think its great that they make up cool games with me and play hide n go seek in the dark with flashlights. I happen to think its adorable when my 5 year old gets frustrated, rolls her little blue eyes and grunts, “&lt;em&gt;Can’t I ever catch a break already&lt;/em&gt;”? These are the things that make my life crazy… insane… chaotic… fun… humorous and all together fit for some reality TV show! Bryanna’s new thing is telling me I am not allowed to use her in my stories. Ha! I own you till you’re 18 baby!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-2395756747720419860?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/2395756747720419860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-inspiration.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2395756747720419860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2395756747720419860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-inspiration.html' title='My tWiStEd inspiration'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-7754448783756982370</id><published>2009-05-10T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T19:52:56.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A special entry for all the Mother's and Mother figures. Hoping your day was filled with love and laughter and wonderful memories. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A new post is coming soon.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Valeri&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-7754448783756982370?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/7754448783756982370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-mothers-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7754448783756982370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7754448783756982370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-mothers-day.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-8445246737413666877</id><published>2009-05-09T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T20:35:45.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mother's Day Story to bring you back to the beginning of insanity!</title><content type='html'>So, we get to that ever important last month and you are at the point of busting at the seams, your feet are so swollen you keep rolling from side to side when you walk. For some reason your toes are making you hungry, possible because they look like fat little juicy sausages.&lt;br /&gt;You can’t cough or sneeze for fear of peeing everywhere, &lt;em&gt;AGAIN&lt;/em&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;You are right about ready to throw the phone through the window because if one more person calls to ask how you are feeling or if you are any “&lt;em&gt;closer&lt;/em&gt;”, you are sure to rip their face off.&lt;br /&gt;You wonder if your husband purposely swapped your full-length mirror with that of a “&lt;em&gt;fun mirror”&lt;/em&gt; you see at the carnivals just to get back at you for making him travel 50 miles out of his way for the last 9 months to curb your cravings.&lt;br /&gt;You face is swollen and blotchy, your nose won’t stop expanding and your head begins to look like a child used you as Mrs. Potato Head.&lt;br /&gt;You will soon have a new reality. My husband was truly wonderful through the whole thing, but seriously, he didn’t have this “&lt;em&gt;miracle&lt;/em&gt;” growing inside him. I think when we are pregnant, we feel obligated and almost guilted into saying we “&lt;em&gt;love&lt;/em&gt;” this part of it. The overall feeling of pregnancy itself is a wonderful feeling, but it wasn’t like that the entire time. Who are we really kidding when we rave about having all of your organs squished together to make room for your “&lt;em&gt;little tenant&lt;/em&gt;”? And then the end is near. All those doctor appointments, the ‘checking for dilation’, the hemorrhoids (thank goodness I never got those), the pressure, the pain, the sleeplessness, the backaches… and its time. Excuse me, but I do believe this is where I start the moaning and groaning of child birth itself and the amount of time it took to &lt;strong&gt;push and push and PUSH&lt;/strong&gt;! Right down to the very minute that I had broke every vessel in my face as my husband looked on, still not breaking a sweat, telling me I am doing great. Just then the doctor took that child from my body and handed her to my husband. Uggggghhhhhh - Idiots!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-8445246737413666877?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/8445246737413666877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-day-story-to-bring-you-back-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8445246737413666877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/8445246737413666877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-day-story-to-bring-you-back-to.html' title='A Mother&apos;s Day Story to bring you back to the beginning of insanity!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-4149628491404309441</id><published>2009-05-07T23:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T23:08:05.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rylie is getting the SHAFT in these BLOGS!!</title><content type='html'>It isn’t that I strive for my life to be so packed with “crazy” it just so happens that’s the way of MY world.  Each girl is so very different in so many wonderful, eye -gouging ways. I think back to when I was their age and well… frankly, I am terrified. Every stage of their lives is a struggle, a battle, a war. Just when you think you know enough to get by, a birthday comes along and wipes out everything you thought you knew about that particular age. Every new age brings with it a new personality. I don’t understand the mind of a 5 year old. You can get down to their level and try and explain to them that they cannot write their name on the wall. You are supposed to be “positive” in speaking to them and explain that it’s “wrong”. And what a “more positive” behavior would be. And how do their actions make others “feel“? (((Insert gagging sounds here )))) THEY DON’T GET IT!!! This is my 3rd time with the 5 year old stage. It seems to get more challenging with each kid. They learn new tricks from the older ones so now the 5 year old, Rylie, is fine tuning her sneaky little ways. And doing a very good job at it I might add. Rylie sees nothing wrong with her future dream of becoming a Tagger. Her name is on the walls, the TV, every book the girls own and even on my car. Don’t ever use the old saying, “it doesn’t have your name on it”, because in about 1 minute…. IT WILL! One time she even tried blaming the graffiti on Bryanna. After all, it was on Bryanna’s wall in her room. The girls own hundreds of Washable Markers. Do you think that she uses those to ‘tag’? Nooooooo! It has to be the Sharpie Marker that you hide from pretty much just yourself, because the kids always find them before you remember where you put it. Ugggghhh. Each night I find 3 new gray hairs. Hmmm coincidence? I don’t think so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-4149628491404309441?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/4149628491404309441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/rylie-is-getting-shaft-in-these-blogs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4149628491404309441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/4149628491404309441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/rylie-is-getting-shaft-in-these-blogs.html' title='Rylie is getting the SHAFT in these BLOGS!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-2658807497651352096</id><published>2009-05-06T22:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T23:01:40.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The conclusion of the Rylie Story!!!!</title><content type='html'>So,  I told you the toilet seat story and neglected to mention that she (Rylie) ran into the dining room, caged herself under the table, and giggled until the moment she was physically removed by me, holding onto her calves, while her fingers are tightly around the legs of the chair, her body wiggling around in mid air. I was finally able to get her on her little feet and in one of the most difficult, forced, unsympathetic apologies I have ever heard, she uttered the word…. “SORRY”!!!Well, that was special!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-2658807497651352096?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/2658807497651352096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/conclusion-of-rylie-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2658807497651352096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2658807497651352096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/conclusion-of-rylie-story.html' title='The conclusion of the Rylie Story!!!!'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-666128074505177298</id><published>2009-05-06T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T09:57:15.548-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yet another Rylie story</title><content type='html'>Kids at this age are funny. Not funny HA-HA, funny like, OH MY GOSH, if you whine one more time I will sell you to the circus - funny.  (I guess that might only be funny to her little sisters and me) When it comes to Bryanna, she always manages to make me chuckle at things I probably shouldn’t be chuckling at. Her and Lauren had gone to the carnival with Grandma and Papa. When they got back, Bryanna was not feeling good and her face had a green tint to it. She had been tossed and turned on the rides and she was about to lose it on the living room carpet. She ran to the bathroom, lifted the toilet seat in the upright position, sat herself on the floor and hovered over the bowl with her arms wrapped tightly around the rim as she stared at the reflection of herself in the water. Rylie, a curious and concerned baby sister walked over there with the sweetest face ever, put one hand on the back of her older sister and the other hand on the lifted toilet seat lid, for a tiny moment, I smiled thinking how wonderful a child I had raised to feel empathy when one of the others is in need. As my arms began to cross and my smile became what I thought to be a sweet memory I would share with both of them later in life, Rylie took the hand on the lid and with forces I never knew a child could possess, slammed the toilet lid on Bryannas face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;OH MY GOD&lt;/em&gt;! I froze. Being the non-panicky mother that I am, I wasn’t sure if I should grab Rylie before she bolted, tend to the child with her head in the toilet, or fall to my knees in laughter at the sight of the whole thing. I chose the second option and tended to Bryanna. At first glance you would have thought the child had severe head trauma, blood all over her face and the bathroom. The water stained pink as drops of blood fell from the bridge of her nose. I felt so bad that I ever thought about laughing, but once we cleaned her up and saw that it was a cut the width of a pinky nail, the tears subsided for Bryanna and the laughter kicked in. That lasted all of about a few minutes when she began to get the “thinking face” .She looked at me with embarrassment and asked, &lt;br /&gt;“How do I explain that I got my FACE slammed in the toilet”?&lt;br /&gt;My husband thought it was cute to tell her that if someone asks, say Mommy punched you. Sick humor I tell you! It's all around me! I didn't stand a chance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-666128074505177298?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/666128074505177298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/yet-another-rylie-story.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/666128074505177298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/666128074505177298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/yet-another-rylie-story.html' title='Yet another Rylie story'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-6974510268943485285</id><published>2009-05-05T14:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T14:55:37.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A RE-POST: The Morning Arguing</title><content type='html'>When you have children, you realize that everything can start a war. Bryanna could have "&lt;em&gt;accidentally&lt;/em&gt;" bumped Lauren on her way to the bathroom. Then Lauren could have "&lt;em&gt;accidentally&lt;/em&gt;" tripped her on her way back to her room. Rylie also could have "&lt;em&gt;accidentally&lt;/em&gt;" punched Bryanna in the stomach while passing her in the kitchen and "&lt;em&gt;accidentally&lt;/em&gt;" poured Lauren's chocolate milk down the sink. Although Rylie gets them confused and claims it was "&lt;em&gt;on purpose&lt;/em&gt;" .... or does she????&lt;br /&gt;I was done!!! I called them all into the living room and gave them new rules on arguing and screaming at each other. I did the whole pace back and forth a few times to really let them know I meant business. I said, “ I can’t handle all of this fighting anymore. From now on, if you are going to argue or fight with each other, you must do it in a foreign accent”. Now, you might be thinking, how the heck do they know what that means? Well, I am a bit of a character when it is within the walls of my house. I love doing voices, and accents. The girls think its funny and often try to mimic me. So Bryanna and Lauren got up and went back to getting ready. About 2 minutes had passed with complete silence and then it started. In the best English accent I could muster up, I loudly reminded them of the new rule. Bryanna rolled her eyes into the back of her head and gave me this gargling-grunting UUUGGGGHHHH sound. She tried to walk away, but being a drama princess (we haven’t quite graduated to queen just yet) she couldn’t resist letting Lauren have the last word. She cleared her throat of any pride and started to put words together. Bryannas scowl quickly turned into a smile as she tried to yell at Lauren in a French/British/Australian accent. We all laughed at the sight of Bryanna trying her hardest to complete a sentence while marching towards Lauren. At the end of her rant, Lauren stood her &lt;em&gt;'quick sand'&lt;/em&gt; ground and screamed in this Mexican/Russian sort of dog barking thing. She may have wet herself a bit from laughing so hard. I know I did.&lt;br /&gt;So, the morning battle ended in a clear victory for some foreign country not yet discovered. As for Rylie , well she was still confused at the fact I told them they could argue, scream and fight. Nothing else got through after she heard that. She was still wandering around the house trying to figure out what “foreign object” to throw at the girls.&lt;br /&gt;Accent Rylie!…. Accent!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-6974510268943485285?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/6974510268943485285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-post-morning-arguing.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6974510268943485285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/6974510268943485285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-post-morning-arguing.html' title='A RE-POST: The Morning Arguing'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-958959711148894365</id><published>2009-05-04T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T16:07:47.108-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Run on sentence of complaints</title><content type='html'>As mothers we often take bits and pieces of really good ideas and try to make them fit where we need it. The problem is it never does fit. Well sure, it could be that we never really caught the "How to raise your children" television program from beginning to end, but that has nothing to do with it. Does it?  Why do they have parenting books? If your child is old enough to read, give it to them and say, “Here… read this, I expect you to behave the way this book tells you to”. Mothers already have so many jobs. I know it may seem like I am complaining. That’s because I am. If a husband has the right to complain about work, or his bad golf game, or having to mow the lawn, and the kids can complain about how unfair moms are, why their sisters get more ice cream than they do and how “Felicia’s mom lets her do that”, then I as a mother and a wife reserve the right to complain about everything else. After all, we gave birth to the little monsters AND married their leader.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-958959711148894365?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/958959711148894365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/run-on-sentence-of-complaints.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/958959711148894365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/958959711148894365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/run-on-sentence-of-complaints.html' title='A Run on sentence of complaints'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-2135477250461428990</id><published>2009-05-04T11:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T11:24:32.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A RE-POST: A Daily Thought</title><content type='html'>Most of the time, we give in to our children’s tantrums to make other peoples lives easier. I love my kids and can handle their outbursts. I am ignoring them for a reason; do not look at them like you are sorry I am their mother. Look at me like you are sorry they are my children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-2135477250461428990?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/2135477250461428990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-post-daily-thought_04.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2135477250461428990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/2135477250461428990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-post-daily-thought_04.html' title='A RE-POST: A Daily Thought'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-1525055600330913610</id><published>2009-05-03T19:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T19:45:59.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A NOTE FROM VALERI:</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"&gt;Hello everyone! Some of you have been following along with me for a while now through Myspace and Facebook. Thank you so much for following me here! I will be re-posting some old favorites for our "newbies" but will also post new stuff for my loyals! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Thank you!! As always, I love comments&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-1525055600330913610?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/1525055600330913610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/note-from-valeri.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/1525055600330913610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/1525055600330913610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/note-from-valeri.html' title='A NOTE FROM VALERI:'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-395170590325218148</id><published>2009-05-03T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T13:51:57.475-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A RE-POST: A Holiday Story (2008)</title><content type='html'>As a parent I love watching my kids get excited for Christmas morning. And c’mon, who are we kidding… the bribery that comes along with Christmas…LOOOOOVE IT! It’s a pleasure having something to hold over my kid’s heads. A threat of Santa not stopping at our house is enough to buy me at least 30 minutes of quiet time here and there. And I really do love the fact that every year my little brother dresses up like Santa Clause with a tapeworm. He walks around the yard for a few minutes to really bring that “GET YOUR BUTT TO BED” plea. So, this weekend we put up Christmas lights around the outside of the house. We carefully placed our moving reindeer in the yard and anchored down the spiral Christmas tree in the decorative rocks. It was fun to watch the girls draw Holiday Greetings in chalk all over the driveway and on the sidewalk. It was equally as sad to watch the sprinkles of rain come and ruin the masterpieces they had just finished. We packed everything up, stored it back in the garage and lit up the lights. Well, most of the lights anyway. It never fails. I plugged them all in before Eric climbed up the ladder of death to string them along the tall peaks of the house. I KNOW they all worked. Every last one of them WORKED!! Up at the top, the icicle lights hung so pretty. He was irritated and said it would get done tomorrow. Umm. No. So here I go. Since I am about oh…. A foot and a half shorter than Eric, I actually had to climb to the very top rung. I replace 2 broken bulbs that were NOT there before, put the ladder back in the garage and stepped back to admire. What the hell? Now there is another portion that doesn’t work. I feel as if there is some Christmas Light Fairy laughing at me.I am such a visual person that I can actually see this little elf-like fairy with his mini sling shot taking out my bulbs. I shake the crazy out of my head and continue on. This time it wasn’t as high up. Again? Where are these broken bulbs coming from. Okay… we are good now. All the lights work on the front peak. I put the ladder BACK in the garage. Step back. Are you kidding me? Above the front porch! Forget it. Eric can do it another day. So we have a break in the flow. The lights are imperfect. Goes with the theme. I just noticed that the moving reindeer has a broken neck. He is thrashing around like a hunter just shot him.I am trying to maneuver his stick body to get the head back where its suppose to be but my clouded by the "psycho light fairy" judgement, I forget to unplug him first and go about a good, oh, 10 minutes before I realize that the back of his body WILL stop moving enough for me to mount his head if I just unplug the "soon to be tamale meat" reindeer!! Okay….. He’s fixed and I am done. In the house I go.... and a light wind…..the spiral tree is down for the count. I often wonder if things like this happen to everyone. Eric has this amazing ability to just walk away. He leaves it for another day and all is well in the world. ME? Well, it has to be done right then and there. I usually only give up at breaking point. All is NOT well in my world. So I wrapped up my Sunday telling the kids to leave the Advent alone! Don’t touch the soldier boy! Rylie! Those cranberries are decoration not food! No Rylie… you cannot open the tiny presents on the table… its decoration! I have NO IDEA where the stuffed Santa is! Rylie…. Did you open all of these little presents and then crumble all of the Styrofoam? I AM TAKING ALL OF THE DECORATIONS DOWN TOMORROW!!!!!... and the excitment of Christmas is done.....I think the Advent is for me. I can countdown the days of holiday chaos and look forward to normal everyday chaos. Chat with you soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-395170590325218148?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/395170590325218148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-post-holiday-story.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/395170590325218148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/395170590325218148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-post-holiday-story.html' title='A RE-POST: A Holiday Story (2008)'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-983518522649891756</id><published>2009-05-03T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T19:41:44.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A RE-POST: A Daily Thought</title><content type='html'>My life is full of wonderful, crazy, pull your hair out moments that will only be funny when the kids move out of the house and I have changed the locks. As a mother, one of those moments in which you smile and say, "&lt;em&gt;now you'll understand&lt;/em&gt;", only happens when you are in the delivery room with your daughter awaiting the arrival of your best revenge EVER.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-983518522649891756?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/983518522649891756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-post-daily-thought.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/983518522649891756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/983518522649891756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/re-post-daily-thought.html' title='A RE-POST: A Daily Thought'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-7293131829193327189</id><published>2009-05-03T10:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T14:29:43.791-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The chocolateless doughnut</title><content type='html'>Life is so much more dramatic in my house. I often rub my forehead and wonder what the future holds. Many of my days are still filled with screaming and yelling. I imagine my neighbors have no idea that Lauren is having the biggest meltdown of her life because she has to eat the doughnut &lt;em&gt;without&lt;/em&gt; chocolate on it. And then the meltdown will continue because after she ate the doughnut, Rylie told her the reason it had no chocolate on it was because she just licked it off. News like that just doesn’t sit well with Lauren. She immediately starts to gag as Rylie lets out a laugh that got her in to trouble just hours before with Bryanna. Rylie has finally realized that to be in this family and survive, you must learn to run fast and know where mom is at all times. I am home base. It’s a game the girls will never stop playing. It resolves itself by Lauren yelling at Rylie that she is gross and disgusting and Rylie hiding behind me pointing her finger and giggling. Lauren turns around, let's out a grunt and stomps to her room and slams the door. All was well for a few hours and then Rylie reminded Lauren about the chocolate adding it was delicious. Rylie looks so cute and innocent doesn't she? Ha! Don't worry... she has many people fooled. But not me! I must try to stay one step behind her. Yes.. I said behind. How much fun would it be to read all of these if I stopped her &lt;em&gt;before &lt;/em&gt;the fun started. I know.... very twisted. Enjoy!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-7293131829193327189?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/7293131829193327189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/chocolateless-doughnut.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7293131829193327189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/7293131829193327189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/chocolateless-doughnut.html' title='The chocolateless doughnut'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6237886696677430393.post-1432594420809466798</id><published>2009-05-02T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T12:09:34.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Tidbit from: A Mother's Guide to the Perfect Insanity Chapter I</title><content type='html'>All in all I love being a mother, but sometimes it is just too hard to contain myself. Sometimes I want to tie their grubby hands together, put them in the corner and squirt them with cold water. They never listen, they always whine and nothing you tell them sticks the first time. I always thought I was a good kid. I am now beginning to believe my behavior as a child is coming back and slapping me right in the face through my own kids. You have all these doctors telling us how to raise healthy obedient children. Well, I say they are probably right. I am almost certain they are right, but if I had time to sit and read I think it might be much more fun to read a book that points out that being a mom can be fun to the point of laughing so hard you wet your pants. I want to read a sentence and smile at the page knowing full well, that is EXACTLY how I think.I want a book that breaks it down. A book that comes with focus pages for those times you feel like throwing rotten tomatoes at your children. Frustration isn’t a word. It’s a way of life. I believe with all my heart you cannot write a book that will ever come close to what really goes on behind those closed doors with dirty hand prints all over them. We need products out there that really can be put to use. For instance SHHHHHH Tape. This would be a strong adhesive that you could slap on your child’s mouth when you need that peace and quiet. What do you mean cruel? We can have Cartoon characters on the front, and make the sticky part fruit flavored. I am all for that&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6237886696677430393-1432594420809466798?l=amothersinsanity.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/feeds/1432594420809466798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/tidbit-from-mothers-guide-to-perfect.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/1432594420809466798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6237886696677430393/posts/default/1432594420809466798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amothersinsanity.blogspot.com/2009/05/tidbit-from-mothers-guide-to-perfect.html' title='A Tidbit from: A Mother&apos;s Guide to the Perfect Insanity Chapter I'/><author><name>Valeri Bustamante-Karcher</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18338309152392655403</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mRU3-0UGtGY/S_i2rJNA57I/AAAAAAAAACY/njA88ZO6gKU/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
