<?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-1118138325224331542</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:50:28.936-08:00</updated><category term='5th Birthday'/><category term='Giant Cupcake Cake'/><category term='Emma Shae'/><title type='text'>Three Girls, a Guy &amp; a Female Dog</title><subtitle type='html'>Just a glimpse into our simple, crazy life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-6806501036633906009</id><published>2011-06-20T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T09:55:06.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FIVE!?!?!  (How did that happen?!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4Sq61E-7vto/Tf9usVN5NZI/AAAAAAAAIWo/2YulFCHijG4/s1600/Invite4x6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620332567870387602" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 342px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4Sq61E-7vto/Tf9usVN5NZI/AAAAAAAAIWo/2YulFCHijG4/s320/Invite4x6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Likes: singing (especially making up your own songs and playing rockstar while you are in the bath....I often sit outside the bathroom door and listen to your original pieces); dancing...and dancing a bit too wild. I am surprised you have not sustained serious injuries from your throwing yourself around the room; food - the first thing you think of in the morning, and most recently the thing you can't get out of your head when you go to bed at night. Yet trying to get you to sit down and eat an entire meal...HA!; movies; dogs; cheerleaders; cowgirls - apparently you want to be one when you grow up. The first we heard of it was at your preschool graduation; your neighbors, Bev and Jerry. I used to get scared when I couldn't find you in the house. Now I just check next door and 9/10 times that's where you are. The rest of the time, you are in my car, playing with the toys Emma has made very clear you are not to touch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620333818233093042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 263px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 199px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2gG8Rh8NSEE/Tf9v1HLl-7I/AAAAAAAAIWw/IXYTJ5ZkOvM/s320/Photo0590.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Dislikes: Being the youngest. We get to hear at least a few times a day how "unfair" it is when Emma gets to do or have something because of her age or involvement in school; the thought of having to eat somewhere you are not comfortable with. We often send you with a lunchbox if you end up at a friends house for meal time; seeing someone sad/homeless/hurt; being told to sit still.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xRbkYv4Wuts/Tf9wAW83MdI/AAAAAAAAIW4/5BKSLcAQc-g/s1600/IMG257%255B1%255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620334011444834770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 174px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xRbkYv4Wuts/Tf9wAW83MdI/AAAAAAAAIW4/5BKSLcAQc-g/s320/IMG257%255B1%255D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What we love about our 5 year old: The most sensitive, tender heart ever. You are the first to compliment - often times total strangers. We know you have brightened many a day with the simple comment of, "I like your....hair/earrings/shirt/shoes/etc."; your empathetic nature. You do not like seeing someone sad. You offer hugs, kisses, advice and even gifts to try and cheer someone up; your wild nature. Sure, it's gotten you bumped and bruised, but it is so fun to watch you have fun. We love you to the moon and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth Sar-Bear!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-6806501036633906009?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/6806501036633906009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2011/06/five-how-did-that-happen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/6806501036633906009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/6806501036633906009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2011/06/five-how-did-that-happen.html' title='FIVE!?!?!  (How did that happen?!)'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4Sq61E-7vto/Tf9usVN5NZI/AAAAAAAAIWo/2YulFCHijG4/s72-c/Invite4x6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-7200708098982494601</id><published>2011-06-02T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T08:19:32.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SEVEN!?!?!?!?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AjrvNRAGd44/TehyLRpyDvI/AAAAAAAAIQk/dBpmc0usIqc/s1600/DSCN4660.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AjrvNRAGd44/TehyLRpyDvI/AAAAAAAAIQk/dBpmc0usIqc/s320/DSCN4660.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613862473560100594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Likes:  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Nutella&lt;/span&gt; - especially on Wednesday's, when I am reminded "Mom - it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Nutella&lt;/span&gt; day for my lunch;"  Her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;BFF&lt;/span&gt; Gracie...and the alone time she demands with her.  Fashion, and the constant reminder, that she is a "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;fashionista&lt;/span&gt;";  Pugs, including Charlie, our dog for 9 months before I realized, living in a crate was no life for a dog, yet you still refer to her as if she is coming back to live with us;  Mrs. Fields....the BEST teacher ever.  You look up to her so much and remind me of myself with my 1st grade teacher, Mrs. Daugherty.  You get really frustrated when you have a sub too;  Shoes.  Mind you...only two pairs.  Two VERY worn out pairs;  Being early and on time.  Heaven forbid you wake up after 6:01 am and be the second person in line for school in the morning;  Breakfast on Saturday mornings....scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee...made by you.  How lucky did we get to have a 7 yr old that makes us coffee?;  Writing.  We find stories all over the house telling of your dog, your friends and your family.  "My mom is amazing, my dad is nice, and my sister is '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cinde&lt;/span&gt;' of nice;"  Skinny jeans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Dislikes: Being told to put her laundry away....that is until I tell her that I will donate all skinny jeans to needy children;  Mom working;  :(  The idea that someday I will take her and her sister to Mexico and we will all share a room together. (I will sleep when she is awake and be awake when she is asleep!!);  Being late to school or not the first in line.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;What we love about our 7 yr old:  Your independence.  As much as we still desire you to want our assistance in your every day tasks, you are totally confident without a helping hand;  Your written stories.  We find them all over the house.  They have all been kept and cherished.  Clearly, you love to write;  The fact that even &lt;/span&gt;though you are starting to back off on saying, "I love you" and giving the first hug, you still demand one before we leave you for the day.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ESD&lt;/span&gt;, you are our complete gift.  7 going on 17...and we shall love you forever and always.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h3GuMmc9j4I/Tej7PXOykdI/AAAAAAAAIRE/5wTHiqOu1-w/s320/IMG166.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614013176869982674" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-7200708098982494601?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/7200708098982494601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2011/06/seven.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/7200708098982494601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/7200708098982494601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2011/06/seven.html' title='SEVEN!?!?!?!?'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AjrvNRAGd44/TehyLRpyDvI/AAAAAAAAIQk/dBpmc0usIqc/s72-c/DSCN4660.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-2191272525108258488</id><published>2010-06-19T22:08:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T06:13:47.145-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Four, 4, Cuatro, IV!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/TB2in333zTI/AAAAAAAAHNU/sfbRAL05ELU/s1600/design01(4x6)+(1).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/TB2in333zTI/AAAAAAAAHNU/sfbRAL05ELU/s320/design01(4x6)+(1).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484718727104023858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 21px; font-family:Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif;font-size:14px;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Likes: Dressing up like a Princess from the tiara all the way down to the glass slippers; food - it seems to always be on your mind and from the moment you wake up you always have to confirm that you will indeed be fed for the day; puppies...no matter what the size or shape (and the ASPCA commercial gets you sad every time); dancing all crazy-like, especially with your mama ; country music that you can sing along LOUDLY to; your "grown up friends" - specifically our neighbors Jerry and Bev and high school girls Corey Christensen &amp;amp; Stevie Musil. We cannot keep you from popping over to the neighbors several times a week or attaching yourself to these girls whenever you see them; Twilight - yes, the movie, which you explained to us has good pirates and bad pirates, but the good pirates "winned"; the use of the word "disgusting".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Dislikes: Being rushed (or even just doing something at a pace other than slow); having to eat anywhere other than home or daycare; blood; cleaning your room (and when we threaten to take away toys to get it clean, you start bagging them up for us!); staying clean; not being allowed in your sister's room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What we love most about our four year old: You are such a bright spot in our days.  Always surprising us with random offerings of "I love you".  You can't leave the house or go to bed without getting at least 3 or 4 "huggies" and "kissies".  You get so much joy out of the smallest things and your face is always showing that emotion 110%.  You love to run wild and can wiggle non stop, but you can also sit for hours in front your movies.  We love you to the moon and back and forth and back and forth and 158 times......most of all and better than that! Happy Birthday!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-2191272525108258488?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/2191272525108258488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2010/06/four-4-cuatro-iv.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/2191272525108258488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/2191272525108258488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2010/06/four-4-cuatro-iv.html' title='Four, 4, Cuatro, IV!'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/TB2in333zTI/AAAAAAAAHNU/sfbRAL05ELU/s72-c/design01(4x6)+(1).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-2441969354825256835</id><published>2010-06-03T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T19:03:31.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>6, Seis, Six, VI!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/TAfbyZOOFsI/AAAAAAAAHKY/_U9WGdvjOmo/s1600/Downloads.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/TAfbyZOOFsI/AAAAAAAAHKY/_U9WGdvjOmo/s320/Downloads.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478589130529969858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 20px; font-family:Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Likes: ALONE time with mom and/or dad;  Her sister...at least 51% of the time; Barbies; Hannah Montana; Taylor Swift; The Food Network; Saturday morning pancakes, bacon AND coffee; dancing; girls nights (which end in her sharing my bed with me); cooking with mom; high heels, dangly earrings, bikini's with the small tops, and any clothing item that looks like something a grown up would wear;  slurpees; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dislikes: Tennis shoes; being the center of attention; her sister (at least 49% of the time);  having the tv on sports; being treated like a kid (especially being sent to time out); naps (or mom and dad trying to take naps when she is awake).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;What we love most about our six year old:  Your growing independence - getting ready for school each morning without any help and very few reminders of what needs to be done;  your love of reading and seeing you take a book to bed each night;  your smile and the sound of your giggles;  the fact that even though you say you don't like school, you have made several new friends and managed to come home &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;every&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; day this school year with a smiley face on your daily behavior report;  e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);   font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:small;"&gt;ven at age 6 you still want to hold our hands, cuddle and give hugs and kisses;  the friendship we see you forming with your sister, and knowing that deep down, you really &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;DO&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; like her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 20px; font-family:Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);   font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(255, 255, 255); line-height: 20px; font-family:Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);   font-family:'trebuchet ms';font-size:small;"&gt;Happy Birthday Emma Shae.  We love you to the moon and back!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-2441969354825256835?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/2441969354825256835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2010/06/6-seis-six-vi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/2441969354825256835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/2441969354825256835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2010/06/6-seis-six-vi.html' title='6, Seis, Six, VI!'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/TAfbyZOOFsI/AAAAAAAAHKY/_U9WGdvjOmo/s72-c/Downloads.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-7017081853413584647</id><published>2009-11-23T10:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T11:01:35.754-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Santa's on the "Bad List"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407373831486184770" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SwrZ2al6HUI/AAAAAAAAFVI/ZQv3SqcA3Qk/s400/DSCN2188.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday I took the girls to an annual event in our wee town, called Santa's Workshop. For kids, it's the e&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SwraCjwusbI/AAAAAAAAFVQ/GSsuYoHnPXE/s1600/DSCN2196.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 236px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 165px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407374040105922994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SwraCjwusbI/AAAAAAAAFVQ/GSsuYoHnPXE/s400/DSCN2196.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;pitomy of "FUN". Over 20 tables of crafts, glitter, glue, paint, ribbon, stickers, stamps....etc. Everything I resist them doing at home due to the impending mess it results in. For parents, it's a day of waiting in lines, keeping other kids from cutting in front of our own children, patiently waiting while our glue and glitter covered monsters make a necklace/ornament/bookmark that would take us 2 minutes, but takes our child 15. They are in heaven, and we are in need of an open bar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Santa always makes an appearance at this event....and Sara, upon me telling her we would get to see the jolly old soul, kept saying all weekend, "We get to go to the North Pole!". Upon telling her no, and seeing the building meltdown, I had to explain that Santa was coming to Prineville to visit. She would get to go see him at his workshop, where she got to help make gifts. Nice save, mom! Whew.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SwraSTSZFFI/AAAAAAAAFVY/AYSAhrchEpk/s1600/DSCN2194.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 183px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 278px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407374310561616978" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SwraSTSZFFI/AAAAAAAAFVY/AYSAhrchEpk/s320/DSCN2194.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So skip to the part where Sara jumps up onto Santa's lap. She's on one knee, Emma is on the other. And just guess who is doing all of the talking. Yup, Sara. Just as I think she is done telling him all the things she wants for Christmas (which included a beach with sand and a pool?) she asks him, "You a Beava fan o' a Duck fan?". Santa pauses, looks at me, looks at her and says, "Well, I belieive I am a Beaver fan". And that, is when her face fell. Her eyes got all big, she pulled back from him....and I think a part of her, stopped believing in him. Shame on you Santa! He saw his mistake, and quickly told her that he loves both Beavers and Ducks and brings presents to all of them. That seemed to appease her, along with the candy canes he was handing out. But really Santa, REALLY. I think you may be getting a lump of coal for Christmas. That, or a dried crushed rose perhaps.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-7017081853413584647?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/7017081853413584647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/11/santas-on-bad-list.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/7017081853413584647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/7017081853413584647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/11/santas-on-bad-list.html' title='Santa&apos;s on the &quot;Bad List&quot;'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SwrZ2al6HUI/AAAAAAAAFVI/ZQv3SqcA3Qk/s72-c/DSCN2188.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-7692827541342288644</id><published>2009-10-16T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T22:14:12.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Following in my footsteps....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; Oh Miss Sara....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393431914624526434" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/StlRwC9zKGI/AAAAAAAAFCU/PVqFMg_u9VY/s200/saracheer2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Last Friday was a home game. Knowing her total admiration of cheerleaders, I had ordered a blue and gold uniform for her, just hoping that she would actually wear it. You know how 3 yr olds work. One day they like something, the next they don't. Well, as we were on our way home Friday all she could do was talk about how she was going to get home, put on her cheer uniform and go to the game. It was forecasted to be a cold night, as in low 30*'s cold. We bundled Sara up in tights, a turtleneck and a coat covering up the whole "cheerleader" look and set off for the game. As we walked in she hid behind me and told me she wanted to surprise them. She very syly looked over at the girls all lined up in front of the field, again hid behind me and unzipped her coat and then WHA-LAA.....jumped out into the middle of the cheerleaders as if she was a prize they had been awaiting. And that, is when I lost her for the next two hours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 237px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393429742503376738" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/StlPxnLwt2I/AAAAAAAAFCE/sqjuMSSJDtA/s320/saracheer.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Mom? Who's mom when you have an entire squad of cheerleaders doting over you? Even at half time she didn't need me. I forgot to mention, she had packed a bag with granola bars, fruit roll ups and chocolate chip cookies that she was saving for "snack". Once halftime hit, she offered them up and before I knew it....was the squads biggest fan for bringing along snacks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The game started up once again, and I looked down to see my Sara, sitting in the middle of the girls, in formation, doing a cheer.....while Sara sat criss-cross-applesauce getting her own snack on. For those of you that know Miss Sara, she takes her snack time very seriously. Don't deny that girl food. Anyhow, all in all her first night as a "real" cheerleader was as much a joy for her as it was for me. Only three, and I already lost her to her "other" friends&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-7692827541342288644?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/7692827541342288644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/10/following-in-my-footsteps.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/7692827541342288644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/7692827541342288644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/10/following-in-my-footsteps.html' title='Following in my footsteps....'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/StlRwC9zKGI/AAAAAAAAFCU/PVqFMg_u9VY/s72-c/saracheer2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-897274001818358949</id><published>2009-09-10T21:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T07:55:01.813-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To the moon and back...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SqnV6nNN5iI/AAAAAAAAE2E/wJc8uUTZkCU/s1600-h/first+day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380066432804316706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SqnV6nNN5iI/AAAAAAAAE2E/wJc8uUTZkCU/s320/first+day.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;September 10, 2009....Emma Shae Daniels steps foot into her first year of many in the public school system. And folks, she loves it. What about it does she love, you ask? Not all that sure. We only got a few details out of her. But when I threatened her with not returning if she didn't listen and behave, her eyes got all big and she begged me "NO!". Anyhow, here are the few details we did get out of her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Nana: Did you have recess? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Emma: Yes....I mean no. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Dad: Did you read books &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Emma: Yes. I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Did you make friends &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Emma: One girl told me she liked my locket. She's five, when I told her I was five too she gave me a high five. She was wearing purple. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mom: What was her name? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Emma: I dunno.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Neighbor (&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bev&lt;/span&gt;): What's your name?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Emma: I dunno.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The day started with her crawling into bed with me at about 4:30 am. We both fell back asleep...my arms draped around my once wee babe turned 40 lb girl. I drifted back into that last hour of slumber praying for this first day of school to bring a smile to her face. I got up to shower, and midway into my morning routine heard her footsteps approach the bathroom....then her smiling face appear. "It's gonna be a good day", I said. She dressed in the outfit that had been picked out for days, then looked at me, clad in stretch cotton &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;capri's&lt;/span&gt; and an Oregon &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hoodie&lt;/span&gt; and says, "You going to wear that to walk me to school?" "Yes...", I said. "How about we look at your work clothes, " she says as she opens my closet. She presents me with one of my newer work shirts and instructs me to put it on. Mind you, SHE IS FIVE. And she already cares about my appearance. I am just thankful she did not order me to also wear my peep toe heels as I escorted her the three blocks to her new school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We spend the walk holding hands, and getting a shout out from her dance teacher that lives nearby as she yells over the sound of school &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;buses&lt;/span&gt; and such..."EMMA DANIELS....HAVE A GREAT FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL SISTER!". With each step, the realization is hitting me. My baby made it to another milestone. A milestone her big sister never reached. All parents are proud of their kids...I know that. But with each moment of pride, I also have a bittersweet moment. As we are walking she looks at all the cars and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;buses&lt;/span&gt; and says, "What are they doing?" I tell her they are bringing kids to her school. "No," she says, "Only me. My school." I laugh...."Do you want friends sister?!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We get to the building and I am &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;strategizing&lt;/span&gt; photo opportunities to distract me from the importance of this moment. I figure we will get a shot of her leaning up against the school sign, in front of the classroom, hanging up her backpack, etc. Suddenly her teacher, Mrs. Hunter (a familiar face - as she is the grandma of one of Emma's daycare friends) sees us, walks up and takes Emma by the hand. In a moment of weakness, and supreme trust....I let go. "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;C'mon&lt;/span&gt; Emma...lets go get in line", says Mrs. Hunter. And off she goes. I get no goodbye kiss. No hug. Emma has a somewhat confused look, but I think I am the one more stunned with the sudden goodbye. "Goodbye Em, I LOVE YOU," I yell amidst the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;buzz&lt;/span&gt; of elementary kids. And I walk away. Alone. One hand holding a camera, the other my cell phone, a heart holding pride...and eyes holding back tears. I call Rich to give him the play by play and distract myself from the events. "Did you cry?" he asks. "No," I say with a lump in my throat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Three hours later I go to pick her up and she sees me and runs. "Mama!". At first I think she is crying, but upon getting her stunning freckled face directly in front of mine I see that it's pure joy. Not necessarily because she sees me, but because she appears to have just had an amazing time. At least I think so. I'm not so sure why. She gets a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;battalion&lt;/span&gt; of questions about her day from me, Rich, grandparents, neighbors. She claims to not know what she did today, but she loves it. And she wants to go back. And my dear girl, you will get to. And I hope I am as proud of you every September as I was this September. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I end the day with tucking her into bed and saying these words, "I love you to the moon and back Miss E." She smiles and says,"No you love me more." Yes, yes I do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-897274001818358949?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/897274001818358949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/09/to-moon-and-back.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/897274001818358949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/897274001818358949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/09/to-moon-and-back.html' title='To the moon and back...'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SqnV6nNN5iI/AAAAAAAAE2E/wJc8uUTZkCU/s72-c/first+day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-3427577233994296882</id><published>2009-08-31T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T18:32:23.225-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a girl thing....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I got a whim last week..... I was busy at work, Rich was back into the insanity of coaching football and it was the week of Daily Doubles and yet I decided I was going to make it happen. Me + Emma + a trip to Eugene. A girls weekend to shop for clothes, shoes, etc in preparation for her first year of MANY in the public school system. I coordinated three sitters for Sara in our absence (since Rich was pretty much stuck doing football all day Friday and Saturday). My grandma was more than happy to be our food and lodging Friday night, and I was able to steal Saturday night from an old friend I hadn't been able to sit and just be girls with for over 10 years. I managed planning all of this on Wednesday afternoon at about 3:21 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, Friday Em and I set off at about 4:30pm. We were on the road, gas tank full, snacks and beverages in tow, Emma's movie player belting out "&lt;em&gt;Barbie and The Pauper&lt;/em&gt;". Now, I continually make fun of my in-laws family tradition of stopping at all landmarks, reading the historical markers, etc....but as we neared &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Sahalie&lt;/span&gt; Falls I had this nostalgia set in of remembering stopping there when I was a kid, and how magical the waterfall seemed. So, in the span of about 4.2 minutes I pulled in, walked Emma up to the viewpoint (while I was wearing work trousers and wedge heels) snapped a picture, let her take it in (for maybe one whole minute), and then we were off again!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376275231698416962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 334px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Spxd1qgddUI/AAAAAAAAEzA/BfWtNlhxvc4/s320/pic12570%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We got to Grandma's, had my favorite childhood dinner that she makes (chicken and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dumplin's&lt;/span&gt;) and had a great time visiting and letting Emma explore the treasures in "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Nanu's&lt;/span&gt;" home. The next morning we took off for a day of shopping and adventures around mom's home town. I took Em to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;CHS&lt;/span&gt; to see where I made my high school memories. I was not so kindly greeted with a giant wall of windows now blocking access to the courtyard and the infamous "Rock" that I had told Emma all about. I'm currently in the process of writing a letter to...well, someone....about how rude Emma thought it was that we could not go in and look. We hit up Goodwill and got some great finds, as well as assisted a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;flamboyantly&lt;/span&gt; gay man find a sequined belt. It made me laugh, made me miss Eugene, and made Emma's eyes about as big as saucers. We drove through Saturday market, went to campus and visited some of Rich's ex students (complete with an apartment warming gift of a bag full of Top &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Ramen&lt;/span&gt;, Mac &amp;amp; Cheese, Capri Sun and Microwave Popcorn...they were totally excited), and then made our way to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Autzen&lt;/span&gt; to take part in Fan Day where we ran into two more ex-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Prinevillians&lt;/span&gt; along with Jerry Allen. Emma was amazed by the size of it all....as well as the realization that the Oregon Duck was "real". She did comment that she didn't think he could actually swim though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376277167583141074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SpxfmWPWHNI/AAAAAAAAEzQ/Ym39U6MSoA8/s320/Photo-0025%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We then shopped for the next 5 hours. Emma was the recipient of all $130 made at a garage sale the prior weekend. It managed to help her acquire....one dress, three tops, 5 pair of pants, one jacket, one sweater, one coat, 7 pair of panties, 2 headbands and a stunning pair of bronze leather &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;mary&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;janes&lt;/span&gt; purchased from, where else, Burch's - which just happens to be where my parents took me to purchase school shoes. We did lunch at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Baja&lt;/span&gt; Fresh, we did dinner at the Food Court in Gateway Mall, where she was so excited to choose which table we would sit at. I spotted a photo booth in the distance where I tried to get her to engage in silliness. All I got out of her was "MOM! I don't like that last picture...you made my face look silly and I DON'T LIKE THAT." Get over it dear, welcome to life with me as your mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376280282449521986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 98px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SpxibqBXLUI/AAAAAAAAEzY/m7HVZbnlOX0/s320/photobooth.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;We ended the weekend by heading over to the home of an old girlfriend of mine I hadn't been able to just sit and "girl" talk with in years. Emma played with toys, watched movies and was totally content while the older girls caught up. At midnight, I realized not only was I still awake, but so was Emma. We crawled into bed, and both passed out within minutes. Early the next afternoon we pulled into &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Prineville&lt;/span&gt; with Emma's bounty. A crazy, busy whirlwind of a weekend. As I tucked Emma in last night she left me with these words...."Mom, can we do that every year." Yes, Yes...and YES. Here's to tradition my girl. I loved it as much as you did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-3427577233994296882?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/3427577233994296882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-girl-thing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/3427577233994296882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/3427577233994296882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-girl-thing.html' title='It&apos;s a girl thing....'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Spxd1qgddUI/AAAAAAAAEzA/BfWtNlhxvc4/s72-c/pic12570%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-4360333689048377847</id><published>2009-08-26T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T14:38:26.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Following up, Sara had a restless night a few days after I swore I stepped on a snake in her room.  The next day I said, "Why couldn't you sleep, Boo?"  I got this reply, "Well mom, I have to tell you something.  The red snake, all red, was tip toeing through my room and he kept saying 'Sssssssss....Sssssssss' and that was why I couldn't sleep."  Remember, this is the same child that said she couldn't go to sleep because her goldfish were splashing in the tank.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;To end this saga, I searched the room for No Feet, and found nothing.  I'm hoping he found his way out.  At least that's what I told Sara.  "He missed his mama so he tip toed back outside and he's not coming back."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-4360333689048377847?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/4360333689048377847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/08/following-up-sara-had-restless-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/4360333689048377847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/4360333689048377847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/08/following-up-sara-had-restless-night.html' title=''/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-3561194734867411566</id><published>2009-08-17T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T05:53:27.811-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Feet talks, Mom...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, this weekend as I walked into Sara's room to put her to bed, I stepped down and felt something slither under my foot. YES...SLITHER. I jumped about 4 feet (that's high for me) and looked down to see nothing. Keep looking, while freaking out....still, nothing. Sara even laughed at me "Mama - why you jump and be all scared?". Because I am a good mom, I tucked her in and left the room. I figured whatever "it" was found a good home under her bed and we would tackle the job of finding "it" in the morning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Next morning, I move the bed, look under toys, etc. and there is no snake to be found. I tell Sara I am looking for a snake and she says, "There's a snake sleeping under my bed?" with the excitement and enthusiasm of the Crocodile Hunter. She thought maybe it was the caterpillar she squished and then lost in the carpet over a week ago, who I am sure has been vacuumed up a time or two since she loved him to death. Then suddenly she tells me "Maybe it's No Feet?" For those not in the know, No Feet is the snake on her favorite cartoon Little Bear. She immediately scrunches up her face and says, "No....it can't be No Feet. No Feet talks, Mom. He would have said "ow" if you step on him." And that, my followers, is one of the many reasons why I love her so. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371176247564674178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SopAVuYbpII/AAAAAAAAEwo/Rxr3wfMKFsw/s320/sar.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;I will leave you with this, our nightly ritual as I tuck her in:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sar Bear: "Mama, I love you sooooo much. I gonna love you forever." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Mama: "I love you too Sar Bear - I gonna love you forever. And do you promise to be my Sar Bear forever?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Sar Bear: "Yes...but I am gonna get growed up. And Sar Bear is gonna love you forever." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-3561194734867411566?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/3561194734867411566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/08/no-feet-talks-mom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/3561194734867411566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/3561194734867411566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/08/no-feet-talks-mom.html' title='No Feet talks, Mom...'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SopAVuYbpII/AAAAAAAAEwo/Rxr3wfMKFsw/s72-c/sar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-7142766428257298964</id><published>2009-06-19T08:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T11:56:53.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3, Tres, Three, III!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Birthday Monkey!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 426px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 280px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349060106551860242" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Sjut0408nBI/AAAAAAAADtE/B4gI0WnQgfw/s400/Sara+Bd.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Likes: Being called Princess (and this was not encouraged by your parents, rather it is something you demand you be called); coloring with just one color....and it's usually red; snacks, at all hours of the day including sneaking them into to bed at night and grabbing one when you wake up; swinging, watching movies, playing on the computer....for hours on end all by yourself; Dora; riding horses and the four wheeler at Papa and Nana's; playing dress up; dancing; coming up with excuses not to go to bed (like the night you told me your goldfish were splashing in the tank and keeping you up); wearing only dresses; hanging out with the cheerleaders - specifically Stevie Musil (who you named your goldfish after). We cannot keep you from standing with her on the sidelines at the games and copying their every move.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dislikes: Calling you something other than Princess; anything that is not your idea; someone helping you; at times, Emma; going to bed;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349066352841999826" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SjuzgeEkRdI/AAAAAAAADts/QG_vD6ZLHZo/s400/DSCN0399.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What we love most about our three year old: You are always the first one to tell us "I love you" and do it at the most random times, which is usually when we need to hear it most. Your neverending facial expressions. You are our "Sara of a million faces". Your silly spirit and ability to make us laugh at the drop of a hat. Your ability to do what you love for hours on end....watching movies, swinging, etc. It shows your passion for what you love, but also gives us a break from your never ending energy. Always going to bed or leaving for daycare by asking for a "huggie and kissy". We love you Sar-Bear! Happy Birthday!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-7142766428257298964?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/7142766428257298964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/06/happy-birthday-monkey-likes-being.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/7142766428257298964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/7142766428257298964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/06/happy-birthday-monkey-likes-being.html' title='3, Tres, Three, III!'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Sjut0408nBI/AAAAAAAADtE/B4gI0WnQgfw/s72-c/Sara+Bd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-2007980787130958154</id><published>2009-06-08T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T20:16:06.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The best gift of the day...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Si1cjJYS1dI/AAAAAAAADkA/aw02c-L8T6E/s1600-h/Em+rainbow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345030091641640402" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Si1cjJYS1dI/AAAAAAAADkA/aw02c-L8T6E/s400/Em+rainbow.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;According to Emma, and of course me, this was her birthday present from Selah. It appeared for just a few minutes on her birthday, and it just happened to be at a time when we were outside or we would have totally missed it. As soon as I took the photo it faded away....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 325px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 223px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345161190498865842" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Si3TyGrjkrI/AAAAAAAADkI/RBeKUWDMs64/s400/DSCN1159.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-2007980787130958154?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/2007980787130958154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/06/best-gift-of-day.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/2007980787130958154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/2007980787130958154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/06/best-gift-of-day.html' title='The best gift of the day...'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Si1cjJYS1dI/AAAAAAAADkA/aw02c-L8T6E/s72-c/Em+rainbow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-8076398539783551021</id><published>2009-06-02T09:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T12:57:50.755-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emma Shae'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='5th Birthday'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Giant Cupcake Cake'/><title type='text'>Cinco, 5, Five, V!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SiVUMDS4siI/AAAAAAAADXQ/S1drsk4gFZs/s1600-h/Em%27s+bday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 272px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342769098964644386" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SiVUMDS4siI/AAAAAAAADXQ/S1drsk4gFZs/s400/Em%27s+bday.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Happy Birthday my girl!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Likes: Mama &amp;amp; Dada; cuddling; Barbies; Hannah Montana; coloring with Dad; her doll..."Excellent" (amazing name she came up with - I know); The Food Network (specifically Guy Fieri and Ace of Cakes...she actually told me as I was making her birthday cake, "Mom, make it bigger, make it badder, make it awesome"); dancing; girls nights (which end in her sharing my bed with me) and slumber parties at Kathy's; cooking with mom; flip flops.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 195px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343934736999259106" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Sil4VHW2G-I/AAAAAAAADfo/SQDYpASX8sc/s400/DSCN1036.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Dislikes: Being left alone; baggy clothes; raisins in cookies (yuck!); cold baths; going to bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;What we love most about our five year old:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Your tender heart and willingness to help others (even your little sister) and make them feel special. Your beauty - on the outside and the inside, and the fact that you also know you are beautiful. Your attention to detail, which means that it may take you three times as long to finish projects as others, but you are always proud of the result. Your willingness to give hugs and kisses just as much as mom and dad want to receive them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;We love you Miss E! Happy Birthday!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-8076398539783551021?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/8076398539783551021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/06/cinco-5-five-v.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/8076398539783551021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/8076398539783551021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/06/cinco-5-five-v.html' title='Cinco, 5, Five, V!'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SiVUMDS4siI/AAAAAAAADXQ/S1drsk4gFZs/s72-c/Em%27s+bday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-4373707890559483778</id><published>2009-05-14T10:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T11:02:47.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sar-Bear Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SgxcwhzpkrI/AAAAAAAADS0/2gwKdOA-A1Q/s1600-h/Sar+bear"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 213px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335741647305675442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SgxcwhzpkrI/AAAAAAAADS0/2gwKdOA-A1Q/s320/Sar+bear" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For mothers day this year, the girls made me little coupon packs with things in it like "One Hug For Mom", "Cooking w/ Mom", "One Nap for Mom without Interruptions"....and Sara's favorite "Sar-Bear Time w/ Mom". Apparently this was still on Sara's mind when I was asking the girls what to put on a card we were sending to our neighbor who had been in the hospital for a knee replacement. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Me: "Girls, what do you want to put on Jerry's card."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Emma: "I hope you like your new knee."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sara: "I love you, I miss you, come home soon so I can walk over and have Sar-Bear time."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So, last night my wee one grabbed two coloring books and some markers and tossed them in a bag. Next thing I know she also has on a coat and is starting to take off out the front door. I asked where she was going, and she told me, "I going to see Jerry so we can have Sar-Bear time. I have a Dora color book for him and a princess one for me and I have markers." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I knew full well that Jerry was still in the hospital, but let her go regardless, knowing his wife Bev was home and would get a kick out of her antics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She returned a few minutes later, not sad because she didn't get her Sar-Bear time, but with huge round eyes. "MOM......Jerry got a NEW leg!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-4373707890559483778?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/4373707890559483778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/05/sar-bear-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/4373707890559483778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/4373707890559483778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/05/sar-bear-time.html' title='Sar-Bear Time'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SgxcwhzpkrI/AAAAAAAADS0/2gwKdOA-A1Q/s72-c/Sar+bear' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-4482889552795898089</id><published>2009-05-08T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T10:33:45.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm going backwards...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Emma:  My mom is going to be 29 on her birthday this year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Kathy (Childcare Provider):  Her calendar says she will be 28.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Emma:  That's cool...shes getting smaller as she goes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Later that night...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Emma:  Pretty soon you won't be a mom anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Me:  Why do you say that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Emma:  Because you keep going backwards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-4482889552795898089?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/4482889552795898089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-going-backwards.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/4482889552795898089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/4482889552795898089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-going-backwards.html' title='I&apos;m going backwards...'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-923359575505393628</id><published>2009-04-30T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T11:09:45.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not going to kindegarten.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SfnpZMxbSoI/AAAAAAAADGg/oJGTQE5pFOE/s1600-h/DSCN0758.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 187px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330548253104228994" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SfnpZMxbSoI/AAAAAAAADGg/oJGTQE5pFOE/s320/DSCN0758.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Last night was registration at the grade school Emma will be attending next year. Being that I've been told I am a bit social, and tend to know a few people....as we're walking in the Principal (an old neighbor and friend) sees me from his office, jumps up and comes to greet us. We also knew the secretary, several of the teachers and a few parents. So, I fill out all the paperwork with Emma's vital stats and details (while Sara is telling me to write her name too....) and then I decide to take Emma to meet the teacher whose class she could be in next year. Mrs. Hunter is the grandmother of another of Emma's daycare friends and she sees her several times a week. Her classroom was full of those awful primary colors and toys and crafts that would make any 5 year old actually want to go to school. Emma turned on the shy and wouldn't talk or leave my side....meanwhile, Sara has made a beeline for some toy cars and is making engine noises. I walked Emma around so she could visit everyone we knew that worked at the school, got her comfortable, and thought it would make it easier on her when it's time for her to become a member of the public school system. Hmmm. As we are driving out of the parking lot she very calmly and matter of factly tells me, "Mom, I am never going to that school again. That is the first, and last time I go into that building." Rad. Can't wait for the first day of school!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-923359575505393628?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/923359575505393628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-going-to-kindegarten.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/923359575505393628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/923359575505393628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/04/not-going-to-kindegarten.html' title='Not going to kindegarten.....'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SfnpZMxbSoI/AAAAAAAADGg/oJGTQE5pFOE/s72-c/DSCN0758.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118138325224331542.post-85076630457866217</id><published>2009-04-29T16:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T21:18:15.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh wow.  I'm blogging....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Sfjf7m_Kq5I/AAAAAAAADFs/xoUv8U7ddx4/s1600-h/us.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330256374163745682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Sfjf7m_Kq5I/AAAAAAAADFs/xoUv8U7ddx4/s320/us.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Impressive, eh? Now, we will just see if I can actually keep up on this. Just another technology produced time waster, that will in turn make all who stumble upon this page waste their time. It's a vicious cycle, I know. My main reason for wanting to do this...to chronicle the hilarious quips and comments that occur in a household of an almost 3 and not quite 5 year old. What can I say, they are our only form of entertainment. And those folks you see up above, the amazingly good looking, young ones....well, we made the wee ones I will write about in the months and years to come. So sit back and enjoy the ride is written form. Everyday is an adventure.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118138325224331542-85076630457866217?l=wearethedaniels.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/feeds/85076630457866217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-wow-im-blogging.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/85076630457866217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118138325224331542/posts/default/85076630457866217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wearethedaniels.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-wow-im-blogging.html' title='Oh wow.  I&apos;m blogging....'/><author><name>The Daniels</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17911805803140487429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/SyaNdtlfzhI/AAAAAAAAFtg/JJh-XPTIblI/S220/fam3.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NvNLwTYxVAc/Sfjf7m_Kq5I/AAAAAAAADFs/xoUv8U7ddx4/s72-c/us.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
