<?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-8583918949714141439</id><updated>2011-08-22T09:48:17.999-07:00</updated><category term='derek'/><category term='Davis'/><title type='text'>Hooligans R Us</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-7607760080798771264</id><published>2010-11-24T19:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T19:33:10.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Hunting We Will Go</title><content type='html'>So today Davis and I went hunting.  It was Davis' first time to ever go. &lt;br /&gt;We got up at 3:30 a.m. to head to the ranch. Davis was so exited he could not stop talking. &lt;br /&gt;d: sixty plus sixty is one twenty and that is two hours.&lt;br /&gt;d: when I come back from the bathroom at school, I always tell Wesley I like his drawing.  Even though he pulled my jersey off during P.E.&lt;br /&gt;These any many other random pieces of information that I can't recall because it was FOUR in the morning and he never went back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we make it into our deer blind.&lt;br /&gt;I have a gun, not loaded, with bullets in my pocket.  I do not intend on shooting anything, but since I am "hunting" I should have a rifle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the following is all the things that Davis said on his first hunt.  Sometimes I had to turn my head to avoid him seeing me laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are all of 7 minutes into our morning hunt when he covers his eyes and in his cry voice says "I want to go back home"  Now, in his defense the wind was howling, it was pitch black and, really, a little creepy.  So I assured him we were just fine.&lt;br /&gt;d: "can the wind blow this over(referring to the blind)?"&lt;br /&gt;me: "no, we are fine"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour later...&lt;br /&gt;d: "we should whistle and maybe they will come"&lt;br /&gt;me: ummm I don't think so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Look Davis, a cow!&lt;br /&gt;d: Can we shoot it?&lt;br /&gt;me: no&lt;br /&gt;d: &lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00"&gt;Awwwe&lt;/span&gt; I really want to shoot something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Oh I see a bird right there on that stump, do you see it?&lt;br /&gt;d: yes, can we shoot it?&lt;br /&gt;me: no&lt;br /&gt;d: awwwe man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are done now.  So we start walking around our little part of the ranch.&lt;br /&gt;d: if a cow is mean to me, I'm gonna throw sticks at it.&lt;br /&gt;me: {giving my that's not nice face}&lt;br /&gt;d: what?  If he is mean to me I am.&lt;br /&gt;me: {silence}&lt;br /&gt;me: Ya know those cows and all this land belong to Uncle Chris and his family.&lt;br /&gt;d: what? Did they plant all this stuff (referring to the cactus, trees and shrubs)?&lt;br /&gt;me: { i just shake my head with a face that probably says "really, you are asking this"}&lt;br /&gt;d: Oh. No, that would be hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we are driving with grandpa and talking about how all we saw was a cow.&lt;br /&gt;d: I think I know why the deer don't go to the feeders.  They figured out that the "base" is where the people who shoot them are by the feeders. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later at camp...&lt;br /&gt;d: ouchie, ouchie, get it. It's a spikey ball. Get it off me.  (referring to the sticker that is stuck to his sock.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to our evening hunt...&lt;br /&gt;me: you stay down and I'll tell you if a deer comes.  That way they don't see two heads  in here.&lt;br /&gt;d: But how am I going to shoot it?  We didn't bring it (the gun) for nothing.  We brought it to shoot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: shhhhh there is a buck at the feeder&lt;br /&gt;d: can we shoot it?&lt;br /&gt;me: no, we are not shooting.&lt;br /&gt;d: ahhhhh, then what did you bring the gun for?&lt;br /&gt;me: {silence}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did see 7 or 8 does, a buck, a red fox and a turkey.  Davis even sneezed (thank you for jinxing us Uncle Jay) and the doe kept eating. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally to conclude our evening hunt...&lt;br /&gt;d: I just want to get out of this nasty place.&lt;br /&gt;It was an old dusty, dirty, tree stand we were in at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, that was our first hunting experience with Davis.  It is kind of the opposite of the Beverly Hillbillies taking Jethro to the city.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-7607760080798771264?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/7607760080798771264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=7607760080798771264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/7607760080798771264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/7607760080798771264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2010/11/hunting-we-will-go.html' title='A Hunting We Will Go'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-8711462559444739329</id><published>2010-08-26T17:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T18:13:36.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Whammys</title><content type='html'>It is the first week of school. School starts an hour earlier than it did last year which is really no big deal because my kids are up at the crack of dawn. We have had flag football practice, baseball practice and play dates. So, the boys are whipped. Derek has one friend in his class. ONE. They didn't go to recess the first two days because it was too hot. So, he was sad he did not get to see his friends. Today he had anxiety because some kid cut his finger and it was bleeding. When he got out of line to ask for a band aid his teacher told him now is not the time, get back in line. I asked him if it was really bleeding or if it was like a paper cut because we all know that if a kid has a minor scratch it requires a band aid. I totally understand that as a teacher this could be really annoying. It was the first thing Derek talked about today after school so I know it made him worry.&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday night he got hit in the knee by a baseball. He was catcher and the pads moved off his knee when he reached out to try to catch the ball. On Tuesday he slammed his finger in the door and has a huge blood blister. I am rambling, but all of this leads up to my anxiety child today.&lt;br /&gt;I tuck the two hooligans in bed and allow them to read until 7:18 because it is already 7:03 (they want &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;their&lt;/span&gt; 15 minutes). At 7:18 I tell them to turn out the light, put up the books and go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I should have seen the Whammy coming. It has been a long week.&lt;br /&gt;At approximately 7:35 a sobbing Derek comes to my room.&lt;br /&gt;Me: What is wrong?&lt;br /&gt;D: I can't stop thinking about what happens after you die.&lt;br /&gt;Me: What do you mean? What do you think happens after you die?&lt;br /&gt;D: I don't know, you can't see anything, do you know you are dead? (we have had this conversation before)&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh buddy you know you are dead and you can see. It's a party in Heaven&lt;br /&gt;D: But you don't have your body, how can you see?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Your soul doesn't need a body to see or have a party! (I trying to wing it here people)&lt;br /&gt;D: [pondering this concept still crying]&lt;br /&gt;Me: Great Grandma Wallace is totally partying right now. She wasn't afraid to die, she was ready to go. she was almost a hundred years old and now she is up there with her parents and her husband and her daughter. She is totally happy. I told him we could read about Heaven in the Bible.&lt;br /&gt;D: [thinking about it still while wiping tears] How do you know? It's not like those people could die and then drop the pages for the Bible down to earth from Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;Me: [thinking, well sh!t. What do I say now?] &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ummmmmm&lt;/span&gt;, well you know Jesus died and came back. That's what Easter is all about. So, he knows and he told every one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That seemed to do for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I tucked him back in with a book to read to help him stop thinking about dieing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have little kid who is certain he has been here before and he is only afraid that the earth won't be here when he comes back in his next life. I have a big kid who is afraid he won't be able to see in Heaven and won't know he is dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody help me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-8711462559444739329?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/8711462559444739329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=8711462559444739329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/8711462559444739329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/8711462559444739329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2010/08/no-whammys.html' title='No Whammys'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-1404172637380350566</id><published>2010-08-21T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-21T19:31:44.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Car</title><content type='html'>Driving in the car today:&lt;br /&gt;Davis : Mom when you die can I have your car.  (I have a Honda Pilot, not anything worth handing down)&lt;br /&gt;Me: [Laughter]&lt;br /&gt;Davis: Why are you laughing?&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Oh Davis.  I probably won't have this car anymore when I die.&lt;br /&gt;Davis : Why, because you are going to crash it.&lt;br /&gt;Me: [long pause]  Ummm No, I sure hope not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-1404172637380350566?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/1404172637380350566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=1404172637380350566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/1404172637380350566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/1404172637380350566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-car.html' title='My Car'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-8013083429089235768</id><published>2010-06-26T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T20:06:19.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blind Side</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, I know people think I am a little crazy because I am so careful about what movies I let Derek watch. Derek has been wanting to see The Blind Side for months. All his friends have seen it. Everyone has told me it is okay for Derek to see.  Clint and I finally got to see it last night.  We decided that Derek and Davis could watch it tonight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Here is why I am so concerned with what Derek watches:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;1) The eviction notice on the door.  He asked what evicted meant.  I told him.  He held back tears and told me that made him sad that he did not know where his mom was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;2) When the dude told him his dad jumped off a bridge.  Derek = Sad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;3) When the teacher told him that there were body parts under the Tennessee football field.  Derek said that might give him nightmares.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He hasn't seen the end yet.  They had to go to sleep, but he went to sleep with tears and feeling so sorry for Big Mike or Michael.  It made him so sad that it really happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Derek kept asking if it was a real story.  I told him it was except for the body parts under the field.  I had to explain to him that she made that part up because she wanted him to go to Ole Miss. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The kid can't just watch a movie.  He has to think about every single part of it.  This is why he doesn't get to watch a lot of movies.  I am not a crazy overbearing mother, my kid can't just let stuff go.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Katrina news almost sent him over the edge and My Dog Skip had him crying and asking questions for 30 minutes after the movie was over.  Nothing is in one ear out the other with him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Davis on the other hand watched the movie and the only question he had was "I'm thirsty, can I get some water?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-8013083429089235768?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/8013083429089235768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=8013083429089235768' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/8013083429089235768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/8013083429089235768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2010/06/blind-side.html' title='The Blind Side'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-1284827981418330552</id><published>2008-05-03T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T08:03:34.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When am I going to die?</title><content type='html'>Okay I have not blogged in forever, but this I need to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As many of you know Davis asks me all the time when he is going to die. Sometimes he will actually go a whole month without asking, but for the most part it is a weekly question that I answer with "not for a long long time".&lt;br /&gt;So here is our conversation in the car this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D Mom, when is the world going to go away?&lt;br /&gt;M It's not&lt;br /&gt;D No I mean when will the world be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;goooone&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;M It won't ever be gone&lt;br /&gt;D (clearly getting frustrated at this point)No when is everything going to die.&lt;br /&gt;M Everything is never going to die, it will always be here. (okay so I am not feeling very philosophical today)&lt;br /&gt;D Even our house?&lt;br /&gt;M yes, our house will always be here&lt;br /&gt;D When I die will everything be here?&lt;br /&gt;M Yes when we die, a long long time from now, everything will still be here.&lt;br /&gt;D Am I going to come back to life after I die?&lt;br /&gt;M &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ummm&lt;/span&gt;, maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is with this kid? Stop asking me these in depth questions. You really need to hear all the sighs and his tone of voice to fully understand that he thinks I am ignorant. My short answers were very frustrating to him.  And this was not a short conversation.  I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;condensed&lt;/span&gt; it because honestly I can't remember all of it. It is like he really really wants to know. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Geez&lt;/span&gt;, we need to go to church...or not!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-1284827981418330552?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/1284827981418330552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=1284827981418330552' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/1284827981418330552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/1284827981418330552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2008/05/when-am-i-going-to-die.html' title='When am I going to die?'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-9160149093709898399</id><published>2007-10-02T17:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T17:39:23.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Half Mast</title><content type='html'>So, Derek got a fish at the church carnival/celebration/new building something or other.   I worked the boothe with the goldfish you could catch.  It's true, for some reason I am bitter about organized religion, but shine a light on me I worked their celebration thinging.  I am still trying not to be bitter about the stupid sign they gave our boothe when everyone else had a cool printed one, or the fact that I asked THREE people where to set up before I finally picked a spopt and set up only to be made a fool by the event coordinator.   Did I mention that I am not bitter or at least trying not to be.&lt;br /&gt;Okay so the fish we bought were the el cheapp feeder fish, but come on our little group does not have tons of money to spend on carnival prizes. (we were the biggest hit of the carnival, not that I am one to brag).  Derek caught his fish and we added it to our other gold fish we have had since last March.  He died a couple days later.   Derek cried. I sent him to Clint for a lesson on life and how you have a soul and a body.  Yes people, this is over a fish.  &lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to the weekend.  We met my mom at McDonalds and the flag was flying at half mast.  I am not sure for who, but it was.  Here is my conversation with Derek:&lt;br /&gt;D: Mom why is the flag only half way up&lt;br /&gt;Me: (sorry but not in the mood for an exlpanation) I don't know&lt;br /&gt;D: Daddy told me it is because someone dies&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Oh yep that is right, that is how we honor people that have died in service&lt;br /&gt;D: Maybe it is for my fish&lt;br /&gt;Me: (silence)&lt;br /&gt;D: Nah I bet they don't fly a flag half way up for a fish&lt;br /&gt;Me: (silence)&lt;br /&gt;D: I bet they only do that for people&lt;br /&gt;Mel I bet you are right&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-9160149093709898399?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/9160149093709898399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=9160149093709898399' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/9160149093709898399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/9160149093709898399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/10/half-mast.html' title='Half Mast'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-3632671479997650757</id><published>2007-10-02T17:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T17:25:22.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To all the girls I loved before...</title><content type='html'>Okay to all who commented on my last blog... and I don't want to call anyone out...KELLI, HEATHER, ANNE...Let me start by saying that SELLING computers is totally different from FIXING computers.  With the exception of Tymon who I spent a night on the phone with and finally decided that with him being FOUR HOURS down I-35 could not really help me.&lt;br /&gt;I will attempt to pick up where I left off as difficult as that may be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-3632671479997650757?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/3632671479997650757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=3632671479997650757' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/3632671479997650757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/3632671479997650757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/10/to-all-girls-i-loved-before.html' title='To all the girls I loved before...'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-504296674083686094</id><published>2007-09-23T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T19:03:44.130-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my computer sucks</title><content type='html'>Dear Blog,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be back soon.  However my computer sucks and I am lucky to get this typed without some kind of stupid computer error.  I am not bitter, no.  I have many blogs in my head.  I will try to remember them all for later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;hooigans are us&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-504296674083686094?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/504296674083686094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=504296674083686094' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/504296674083686094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/504296674083686094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-computer-sucks.html' title='my computer sucks'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-614339853377437000</id><published>2007-09-10T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T16:25:36.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 4th day of school</title><content type='html'>So, I get a call that Davis is refusing to eat his lunch and crying. I tell them that is his lunch take it or leave it and they agree. Keep in mind this is a lunch he eats all the time. Hot dog, applesauce, goldfish and a drinkable yogurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I get a call saying he is in the office crying that he is sick and wants his mommy. Now the preschool director is trying to be very cautious that this is not just new school jitters. She asked Davis if he likes school when he feels well and he said yes. They also had sent 3 kids home with high fevers so something is going around. I tell them I will come pick him up since it is nap time anyway and he is usually happy go lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is what he has to say when I pick him up and we are walking out.&lt;br /&gt;D (with a coy little smile on his face) I am so glad you are here mama&lt;br /&gt;Me Do you feel sick?&lt;br /&gt;D not any more&lt;br /&gt;Me Do you feel yucky?&lt;br /&gt;D Not any more&lt;br /&gt;Me Then why were you crying for me?&lt;br /&gt;D I just love you mama, I'm so glad you are here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we get home he can hardly contain his excitment of being home.  He's playing and running around.  It took him an hour to settle in and take a nap.  Not sick, not sick at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That little terd.&lt;br /&gt;I need to buy a copy of the boy who cried wolf.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-614339853377437000?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/614339853377437000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=614339853377437000' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/614339853377437000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/614339853377437000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/09/4th-day-of-school.html' title='The 4th day of school'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-7706530016166536986</id><published>2007-09-10T16:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T16:17:31.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pops is the big 70</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/RuXQOtC8-jI/AAAAAAAAABs/xG9QDSAU-1M/s1600-h/P1010104.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't believe Vern is 70!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The kids and I went up on Saturday. I made him a cake, which I am quite proud of, and we brought a bunch of balloons. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/RuXQOdC8-iI/AAAAAAAAABk/YESxCabHaB4/s1600-h/P1010065.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108718299055454754" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/RuXQOdC8-iI/AAAAAAAAABk/YESxCabHaB4/s320/P1010065.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-7706530016166536986?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/7706530016166536986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=7706530016166536986' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/7706530016166536986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/7706530016166536986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/09/pops-is-big-70.html' title='Pops is the big 70'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/RuXQOdC8-iI/AAAAAAAAABk/YESxCabHaB4/s72-c/P1010065.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-491062208006285955</id><published>2007-09-04T17:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T17:51:17.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First day of school</title><content type='html'>Yippee,&lt;br /&gt;Davis and Derek are back in School.&lt;br /&gt;Davis had a good, but more imprtantly dry first day of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/Rt377NC8-fI/AAAAAAAAABM/yR-sFwz9Nhs/s1600-h/P1010044.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106514547040909810" style="CURSOR: hand" height="287" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/Rt377NC8-fI/AAAAAAAAABM/yR-sFwz9Nhs/s320/P1010044.JPG" width="207" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/Rt377tC8-gI/AAAAAAAAABU/saczldcSQg0/s1600-h/P1010046.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106514555630844418" style="WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px" height="300" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/Rt377tC8-gI/AAAAAAAAABU/saczldcSQg0/s320/P1010046.JPG" width="219" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/Rt3779C8-hI/AAAAAAAAABc/cSR03oTZx3k/s1600-h/P1010050.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5106514559925811730" style="WIDTH: 206px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px" height="288" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/Rt3779C8-hI/AAAAAAAAABc/cSR03oTZx3k/s320/P1010050.JPG" width="201" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever you do, Davis, don't look at the camera!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-491062208006285955?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/491062208006285955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=491062208006285955' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/491062208006285955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/491062208006285955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/09/first-day-of-school.html' title='First day of school'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/Rt377NC8-fI/AAAAAAAAABM/yR-sFwz9Nhs/s72-c/P1010044.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-2454477232042508001</id><published>2007-09-04T17:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T17:37:01.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Training...again</title><content type='html'>Yes, it is another blog about potty training. It has taken over my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it is Monday and I am taking Davis to get a new backpack and lunch box for school since he has never had a new one. Thanks to Big D he always winds up with a hand me down.&lt;br /&gt;We venture out in big boy underwear because I am done with pull ups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JoAnn fabrics 9:45&lt;br /&gt;Me Do you need to go potty?&lt;br /&gt;D NO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pottery Barn kids at the mall 10:30ish&lt;br /&gt;D Mama pee pee's coming out&lt;br /&gt;Me Shit (under my breath). Here sit in your stroller we are going to the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mall bathroom 10:32ish&lt;br /&gt;Me Davis you pooped in your new Diego underwear.&lt;br /&gt;D pee pee and poo poo come out.&lt;br /&gt;Me Say goodbye to Diego he is going in the trash.&lt;br /&gt;D Bye bye Diego. (he could care less)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We buy a backpack and lunch box and call it a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home 12:00ish&lt;br /&gt;Me Do you need to go potty&lt;br /&gt;D Nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:15ish&lt;br /&gt;D Mama pee pee's coming out.&lt;br /&gt;So I clean up a puddle of pee on my carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:30ish&lt;br /&gt;D Mama pee pee's coming out.&lt;br /&gt;That's right again same spot I clean up a puddle of pee on my carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:15 We are heading out to pick up Derek from school.&lt;br /&gt;Me You have to sit on the potty before we get in the car.&lt;br /&gt;D (on the potty) No pee pee's coming out&lt;br /&gt;Shocking seeing how he just peed twice on the carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:30 Doctor's office for well checks&lt;br /&gt;Derek and Davis both drink up their Tylenol to get a chicken pox vaccine. They always fill the little dispenser cup with water to wash it down. So Davis was standing on a little kid chair to reach the water in the room. He gets down and what do ya know...&lt;br /&gt;D Pee pees come out! (splatter splatter)&lt;br /&gt;The poor nurse throws some paper towels down and watches me clean up. I don't blame her a bit and told her that I would clean it up b/c who wants to clean up some other kid's pee. I don't want to clean up my own kids pee.&lt;br /&gt;Nurse Umm are they ready for their shots?&lt;br /&gt;Me No let me get him in dry clothes.&lt;br /&gt;It is at this moment that I sit down in the little kid chair to take off the wet clothes and put on the dry when I realize that the pee pee started coming out BEFORE he got off the chair and I am now sitting in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So great after 3 "accident" clean ups I sit in the 4th. NEAT.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-2454477232042508001?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/2454477232042508001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=2454477232042508001' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/2454477232042508001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/2454477232042508001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/09/potty-trainingagain.html' title='Potty Training...again'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-2064589129318862268</id><published>2007-08-14T21:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T21:45:53.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Charlotte's Web</title><content type='html'>So tonight we had frozen pizza and ice cream for dinner. Then we watched Charlotte's Web on the big TV upstairs. Thanks to my wonderful friend who dropped the movie off for us to borrow. Thus saving me from purchasing the only somewhat kid friendly pay per view movie Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I would be explaining why at our house we don't say "kick butt" for the next month.&lt;br /&gt;Okay so back to my original thought of Charlotte's Web. I totally forgot about Charlotte dying at the end. Derek was sitting on the couch with me when she is explaining how she is dying to Wilbur. I look over at him to find huge tears welled up in his eyes and his little chin beginning to quiver. When he glanced over at me he quickly blinked them away and choked back any more that were on the way.&lt;br /&gt;He has been so emotional lately. He bawled his eyes out in the car when he and Clint dropped me off at the airport for Santa Fe. He told Clint that he was sad that our family was going to be in all different places. I have to say all this weepiness tugs at my heart because he is not the emotional sensitive one. Does this mean he might lighten up on the stubbornness? I can dream can't I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-2064589129318862268?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/2064589129318862268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=2064589129318862268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/2064589129318862268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/2064589129318862268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/08/so-tonight-we-had-frozen-pizza-and-ice.html' title='Charlotte&apos;s Web'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-4977755630982711565</id><published>2007-08-13T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T14:22:29.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a blog</title><content type='html'>So, with the inspiration of my two best McKinney friends I started this blog. Then, I quit! I am horrible. However I have been inspired again. This time by my cousin. She is really my cousin's wife, but being the only girl in the family, I claim all the girls as my own. I think that is only fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I finally passed my exam. I had to fly to Santa Fe since they changed testing companies, but hallelujah I passed. I scored and 85 percent...take that!&lt;br /&gt;I celebrated by drinking wine and eating out in Santa Fe. Then I came home and celebrated at my friends house with an awesome steak dinner and all kinds of fun beverages. It is possible that I celebrated a little too much. I don't know, when you go to a party in jeans and end up in a pair of shorts you found in the closet so you could be better at doing flips on the trampoline is that too much? Did I mention it was her mom's birthday? I think the fact that I was celebrating two things makes it alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Potty training? Did I blog something about potty training? My kid is 3, he pees in his pants everyday. Not to mention the day he pooped on my moms balcony. Nice. I would give up, but I would rather not send my kid to college in pull ups.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I am off to change another pull up....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-4977755630982711565?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/4977755630982711565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=4977755630982711565' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/4977755630982711565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/4977755630982711565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-have-blog.html' title='I have a blog'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-886886187318389374</id><published>2007-06-22T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T11:44:32.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How hard can it be</title><content type='html'>Seriously, how hard can it be? I failed for the third time today with a 74. That is one point people, ONE point. 75 is passing. So, I did some retail therapy on the way home and stopped at NM Last Call and got two shirts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-886886187318389374?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/886886187318389374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=886886187318389374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/886886187318389374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/886886187318389374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/06/how-hard-can-it-be.html' title='How hard can it be'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-2332031763722157310</id><published>2007-06-18T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T09:07:46.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Failed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In the shape of an "L" on her forehead&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right I failed my national exam &lt;em&gt;again. &lt;/em&gt;I even managed to fail worse this time than last time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;To make things even worse my kid is a BRAT. We went to a friends house for dinner and he screamed like a girl and cried and bugged people the whole time. He complained about dinner, he threw something at his friend so she kicked him in the face. I am at my wits end with him. I can't take him anywhere. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for friends that know how to make awesome Cosmos and then serve me the best stir fry I think I have ever had. Oh and of course some great wine with dinner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-2332031763722157310?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/2332031763722157310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=2332031763722157310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/2332031763722157310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/2332031763722157310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/06/somebody-once-told-me-world-is-gonna.html' title='Failed'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-8161495816101694482</id><published>2007-06-16T19:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-16T19:19:47.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Brain Transplant</title><content type='html'>If this is possible I would like to be put on the waiting list immediately. I am studying to &lt;em&gt;retake&lt;/em&gt; the national real estate exam and I can't remember anything. I can not choose the correct answer in multiple choice tests to save my life. I seem to just geek out and pick the wrong thing. I am driving myself crazy and starting to panic. I just want to pass and be done with all this. Please please let me pass............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-8161495816101694482?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/8161495816101694482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=8161495816101694482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/8161495816101694482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/8161495816101694482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/06/brain-transplant.html' title='Brain Transplant'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-1841986529135636453</id><published>2007-06-14T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T19:24:38.385-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Davis'/><title type='text'>Do the pee pee dance</title><content type='html'>We have had a breakthrough!  I asked Davis if he needed to go potty before we put his diaper on and he said yes and climbed up on the big potty before I could even get there to help him.  Alas, he peed his waterfall into the potty and it was no small amount.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A huge pee pee dance and party ensued in my bathroom following the event.&lt;br /&gt;Davis pee peed on the Pot-Tay..Davis pee peed on the Pot-Tay..Everybody this time..Davis pee peed on the Pot-Tay..with your hands in the air..Davis pee peed on the Pot-Tay.  Okay so you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, thank you Emma for sitting on the potty in front of my kid today like it was no big deal. Maybe it was seeing someone his own age climb up on the big potty that cinched the deal.  He sees his big brother all the time, but is so not interested.  This is only the second time in history that he has sat on the big potty without being scared out of his mind. The last time was Kelli’s house when he accidentally squeezed out a terd.  In an attempt to speed the potty training process along I let him pick out some new Diego underware at the store.  I tried putting them on him and he threw a fit and did not want to wear them.  I told him he was a big boy and big boys wear underwear. To which he whines "I don't want to be a big boy".  Sheesh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not getting rid of any diapers yet, but I am so thrilled that he finally used the right muscles and pee came out.  Usually he just farts on the little kid potty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-1841986529135636453?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/1841986529135636453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=1841986529135636453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/1841986529135636453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/1841986529135636453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/06/do-pee-pe-dance.html' title='Do the pee pee dance'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-6154324895188849603</id><published>2007-06-14T18:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-14T19:21:41.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy birthday to Davis (and Clint)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/RnH3pY82YMI/AAAAAAAAAAc/tEDNhYueSuE/s1600-h/davis+bday.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/RnH3pY82YMI/AAAAAAAAAAc/tEDNhYueSuE/s200/davis+bday.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076110545467629762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Davis had his 3rd birthday party this weekend. I think it was a fun time for all. &lt;br /&gt;The kids had hot dogs, kool aid and cake and the adults had brats, jello shots and blue margaritas! The blue margs were part of the fish themed birthday party complete with a gummy fish swimming around in them. &lt;br /&gt;I think the only bummer of the night was that our good friends had to leave to go to a dinner party. They planned on breaking away and coming back, but the husband had an allergic reaction to the food that was served and had to go to the E.R. Needless to say they did not make it back. &lt;br /&gt;As a little side note here I would like to add that the hostess of the dinner party served pork baked with pesto sauce and walnuts and tells our friends repeatedly that there are not any nuts in the meal. Hello, his throat is closing, still claiming no nuts????&lt;br /&gt;Clint was all excited to show off his new TVs he got (yes that is plural). I was assuming that these TVs were his birthday and fathers day gifts, but I was wrong. He and another friend both went out and bought new XBOX 360s. Whatever!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-6154324895188849603?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/6154324895188849603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=6154324895188849603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/6154324895188849603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/6154324895188849603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/06/davis-had-his-3rd-birthday-party-this.html' title='Happy birthday to Davis (and Clint)'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_jymvVPnCEFA/RnH3pY82YMI/AAAAAAAAAAc/tEDNhYueSuE/s72-c/davis+bday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-1037984544195622098</id><published>2007-06-07T11:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T11:13:21.436-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='derek'/><title type='text'>Summer School Love</title><content type='html'>So here is my conversation with Derek on the way home from school today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Derek: Isabella has eleven boys that like her.&lt;br /&gt;Me:      Wow, Isabella must be a really nice girl.&lt;br /&gt;Derek: Yep, Ryan says he is in love with her. I'm not though, I just made love with her.&lt;br /&gt;Me:      Oh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good to know my kid will just be a one night stand kind of guy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-1037984544195622098?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/1037984544195622098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=1037984544195622098' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/1037984544195622098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/1037984544195622098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/06/summer-school-love.html' title='Summer School Love'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-7444086514797238919</id><published>2007-06-04T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T18:41:15.294-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='derek'/><title type='text'>I'm done with my gum</title><content type='html'>Derek and Davis love to chew gum. When they are finished with their gum they like to throw it out the car window. This is fine with me as long as there are not any cars next to us and we are not on neighborhood streets where it might get stuck to some one's shoe.&lt;br /&gt;So, today we are driving home from the mall where both the boys got a huge piece of gum from the big rolling spiral gumball machine. Derek decides he is finished with his gum and asks to throw it out the window. So he rolls down his window and is ready to throw when Clint tells him "No, no not yet". Too late. Derek threw is giant purple wad of gum right smack dab in the center of some poor dudes windshield. Now this guy was not driving a family Honda or Kia oh no, he is driving his electric blue mac daddy car. He is the type whose pride and joy is his car with the custom paint job, fancy rims and a spoiler thingy on the back.&lt;br /&gt;Derek is a little concerned because Clint is mouthing "I am SO sorry" as the guy pulls up right next to us. Luckily he was nice and gave a casual wave and an "it's okay" nod.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-7444086514797238919?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/7444086514797238919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=7444086514797238919' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/7444086514797238919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/7444086514797238919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/06/derek-and-davis-love-to-chew-gum.html' title='I&apos;m done with my gum'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8583918949714141439.post-2502939320009120367</id><published>2007-06-04T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T11:22:01.875-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Davis'/><title type='text'>I just want one</title><content type='html'>So, the binky fairy finally came to our house today. Davis was not very happy about it and he is still playing in his room instead of napping. We decorated a bag, went around and gathered up all the binkys and put them on the front porch. Then it was nap time and all hell broke loose.&lt;br /&gt;He cried and screamed. I WANT MY BINKY. When I went in to comfort him and tell him the binky fairy already came and took them to the babies he very sad and pouty said "I just want one". "Just one binky momma" I told him they were all gone and we went downstairs to see if he was left any presents. He did perk up at the sight of a new Cars pillow and a Diego rescue pack. It is starting to quiet down in his room so I am crossing my fingers that he is finally going to sleep binky free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8583918949714141439-2502939320009120367?l=hooligansrus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/feeds/2502939320009120367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8583918949714141439&amp;postID=2502939320009120367' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/2502939320009120367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8583918949714141439/posts/default/2502939320009120367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hooligansrus.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-just-want-one.html' title='I just want one'/><author><name>Trisha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07601527241305928223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
