<?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-8238972</id><updated>2011-08-01T13:21:34.915-07:00</updated><category term='boring'/><category term='Benazir Bhutto'/><category term='only to us'/><category term='not crazy'/><category term='bitch session'/><category term='bitchy'/><category term='fun with alternative medicine'/><category term='anniversary'/><category term='cry me a river'/><title type='text'>Blog on and on and on</title><subtitle type='html'>Spoiled Beyond Recognition.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>361</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-4255381444706205961</id><published>2011-02-24T23:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T23:15:31.827-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This ship&amp;#39;s going tits up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-4255381444706205961?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4255381444706205961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=4255381444706205961&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4255381444706205961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4255381444706205961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2011/02/this-ship-going-tits-up.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3645100265478678616</id><published>2011-01-28T12:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T12:23:04.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>E tried to hand me a piece of paper while we were eating. I just looked @ it - someone in his class has lice.&lt;br&gt;He just caught me looking @ his scalp w/ a flashlight.&lt;br&gt;Ugh I feel itchy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3645100265478678616?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3645100265478678616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3645100265478678616&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3645100265478678616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3645100265478678616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2011/01/e-tried-to-hand-me-piece-of-paper-while.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-423049673969465506</id><published>2011-01-28T12:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T12:08:52.191-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Iris really is like the cutest thing. She has started to have facial expressions and realizing she has an effect on her enviromemt. It is a trip to watch.&lt;p&gt;We are moving to Oregon. It is a little cookoo crazytown. Jon basically accepted a job on &amp;#39;trial&amp;#39; they loved him and made his offer permanent. So as of feb 12 jon is moving up there. Until we sell the house I think I am only going to have a husband on weekends. WTF? Until we all relocate to Eugene Oregon! Having the kids alone, is wicked hard. Baby wants to be held all the time. I was grilling holding the baby last night #parentfail &lt;br&gt;BIG CHANGES&lt;br&gt;I hired a lady to help me out a few times a week. I need it. My mil is paying for the nanny. It is nice. &lt;br&gt;Nights are rough. But o-boo-hoo. &lt;p&gt;Mama is going to be doing ok is OR. U of O is there and so I am going to take some classes. Get some chickens, make my own yogurt - Go native.&lt;br&gt;I have been listening to a ton of Rolling Stones lately. You can&amp;#39;t always get what you want: but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need. There is a saying in Alanon - sometimes you get what you want. Sometimes you get what you need. Sometimes you get what you get. &lt;br&gt;- I need to start meditating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-423049673969465506?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/423049673969465506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=423049673969465506&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/423049673969465506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/423049673969465506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2011/01/iris-really-is-like-cutest-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5454758722436486330</id><published>2010-10-04T19:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T19:42:40.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&amp;quot;i called her back twice, (the woman who does freelancing) more than that is humiliating.&amp;quot; yeah and I have an appointment with WIC on Friday. FML&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5454758722436486330?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5454758722436486330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5454758722436486330&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5454758722436486330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5454758722436486330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/10/called-her-back-twice-woman-who-does.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-6191943067171900392</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.021-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:35.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>sco Geller]: im going to cuk your mother&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: good bye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-6191943067171900392?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6191943067171900392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=6191943067171900392&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6191943067171900392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6191943067171900392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/sco-geller-im-going-to-cuk-your-mother.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5917613550643782671</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.019-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:32.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>L]: um no thanks&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: if i where you i stand now&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: in the ass?&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: yes&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: i wont to&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5917613550643782671?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5917613550643782671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5917613550643782671&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5917613550643782671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5917613550643782671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/l-um-no-thanks-francisco-geller-if-i.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1930561780265388888</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.017-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:30.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>u are an exelent player&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: thanks i guess&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: wow that was lucky&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: jajaja yes&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: shit&lt;br&gt;[Kri&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1930561780265388888?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1930561780265388888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1930561780265388888&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1930561780265388888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1930561780265388888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/u-are-exelent-player-kristen-l-thanks-i.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2766707107678186307</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.015-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:30.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>iss your dick&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: i don&amp;#39;t have a dick but thanks for the offer&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: ooohh are you women?&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: yup&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Gelle&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2766707107678186307?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2766707107678186307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2766707107678186307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2766707107678186307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2766707107678186307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/iss-your-dick-kristen-l-i-don-have-dick.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-9117884923610822053</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.013-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:29.612-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ler]: where do you live?&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: san fran&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: u?&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: im from argentina&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: do you understand my po&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-9117884923610822053?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/9117884923610822053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=9117884923610822053&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/9117884923610822053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/9117884923610822053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/ler-where-do-you-live-kristen-l-san.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-8774033398531163156</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.011-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:26.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>yeahh&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: ohh my ghot&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: kristen do you play sports?&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: i play tennis&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: because my&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-8774033398531163156?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8774033398531163156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=8774033398531163156&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8774033398531163156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8774033398531163156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/yeahh-francisco-geller-ohh-my-ghot.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7392378843983397859</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.009-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:25.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>co Geller]: but i star twhith1000 :S&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: its  bullshit&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: you gotta play big to win big&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: yes but i ha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7392378843983397859?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7392378843983397859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7392378843983397859&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7392378843983397859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7392378843983397859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/co-geller-but-i-star-twhith1000-s.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5285366506252676318</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:25.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>to fuck him&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: do it!&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: i have a big ass&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: not you &lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: rock on!&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: ohh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5285366506252676318?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5285366506252676318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5285366506252676318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5285366506252676318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5285366506252676318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/to-fuck-him-kristen-l-do-it-francisco.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7137937718005004408</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:23.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>or english?&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: sure i&amp;#39;m american&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: yes, but i speak so bad&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: that was a joke&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: im going&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7137937718005004408?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7137937718005004408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7137937718005004408&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7137937718005004408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7137937718005004408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/or-english-kristen-l-sure-i-american.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2014976006022630042</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:23.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>vent got any money&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: i may have played this game a lot&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: you are  a vicious&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Geller]: jajaja&lt;br&gt;[Francisco Gel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2014976006022630042?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2014976006022630042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2014976006022630042&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2014976006022630042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2014976006022630042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/vent-got-any-money-kristen-l-i-may-have.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-248316990338522535</id><published>2010-09-11T04:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T04:32:22.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Reason #45 why you shouldn&amp;#39;t &amp;#39;chat&amp;#39; while playing online poker:&lt;p&gt;[Francisco Geller]: why do you have 7000?&lt;br&gt;[Kristen L]: cause I am a baller&lt;br&gt;[Francis&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-248316990338522535?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/248316990338522535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=248316990338522535&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/248316990338522535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/248316990338522535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/09/reason-45-why-you-shouldn-while-playing.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-8173751629619387617</id><published>2010-06-16T14:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T14:42:38.549-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No joke, a dog just barked at me and scared the shit out of me and I cried. Like an asshole in the bike shop. COOL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-8173751629619387617?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8173751629619387617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=8173751629619387617&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8173751629619387617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8173751629619387617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/06/no-joke-dog-just-barked-at-me-and.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5954416715364686694</id><published>2010-06-06T18:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T18:19:55.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&amp;quot;Wow you are really popping out!!! You aren&amp;#39;t that far along, are you?&amp;quot; From owner &lt;br&gt;/ boss at work today.&lt;br&gt;Oh really? Fuck you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5954416715364686694?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5954416715364686694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5954416715364686694&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5954416715364686694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5954416715364686694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/06/you-are-really-popping-out-you-aren.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3971654202740133646</id><published>2010-05-12T15:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-12T15:34:04.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning I sneezed and had this gut wrenching pain across my abdomen. A few minutes later I went to the bathroom, I freaked thinking there was blood in my underpants. Imagine how pleased I was when I discovered I had only pooped my pants.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3971654202740133646?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3971654202740133646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3971654202740133646&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3971654202740133646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3971654202740133646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/05/this-morning-i-sneezed-and-had-this-gut.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-6068317858476856618</id><published>2010-04-30T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T22:24:12.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eff you</title><content type='html'>Ambivalence occurs in intimate relationships when there is the coexistence of opposing emotions and desires towards the other that create an uncertainty about being in the relationship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-6068317858476856618?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6068317858476856618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=6068317858476856618&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6068317858476856618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6068317858476856618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/04/eff-you.html' title='Eff you'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-4194466808343611897</id><published>2010-04-30T22:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T22:20:46.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I got one for you...</title><content type='html'>What is worse than being pregnant, without health insurance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No really, I am asking...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-4194466808343611897?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4194466808343611897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=4194466808343611897&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4194466808343611897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4194466808343611897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-got-one-for-you.html' title='I got one for you...'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2979860552673315475</id><published>2010-04-30T09:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T09:36:30.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Trying to keep the sprouts if depression from rooting through self-care. Constant maintenance required. So angry, anger leads to resentment, which leads to shitty behavior (acting out). Childish bullshit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2979860552673315475?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2979860552673315475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2979860552673315475&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2979860552673315475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2979860552673315475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/04/trying-to-keep-sprouts-if-depression.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2615384761223418887</id><published>2010-04-29T07:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T07:26:54.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Girl I get it. Ugh I wish I didn&amp;#39;t but I do.&lt;br&gt;What can I say? You won&amp;#39;t always feel like this? And even the prospect that this shitty painful feeling isn&amp;#39;t permanent is what keeps me putting one foot in front of the other.&lt;br&gt;Fake it til you make it.&lt;br&gt;Concentrate on the things that give you pleasure and joy.&lt;p&gt;There is beauty here with the pain and maybe one cannot exist without the other. And whatever it is that makes us types so sensitive, well there has to be a reason. I am not sure what yet but the universe is smarter than that, I Have to believe.&lt;br&gt;Even though I have a sick tape in my head that basically undermines my very existance. I have to fight it. You have value. You are here for a reason. At least wait until your 30&amp;#39;s.&lt;br&gt;God my 20s sucked. And even though on paper my 30s have also sucked some big balls, I feel more comfortable in my skin and feel like I am closer to peace.&lt;p&gt;While I have a hard time finding reason in my own existence, I have no question in&lt;br&gt;My mind that you are special and there is no other DA in the universe. &lt;p&gt;I don&amp;#39;t know if that helps or just sounds like a pile of poo.&lt;p&gt;You gotta keep fighting. For your mom, for yourself, shit, for me,  &lt;br&gt;Just because this is how it is right now does not mean this is what it is always going to be like. That is the only thing that gets me through the bad times. And keep talking about it. Get outside your head.&lt;br&gt;-Your partner in the good fight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2615384761223418887?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2615384761223418887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2615384761223418887&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2615384761223418887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2615384761223418887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/04/girl-i-get-it.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-6589018599259279940</id><published>2010-04-24T11:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-24T11:44:14.058-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Every morning or when I get home or whatever, I wonder what is going to be his excuse for being an asshole this time? Allergies, sobriety, AA, work, boy, animals...the newest one, grumpy from quitting smoking since it was making me wretch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-6589018599259279940?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6589018599259279940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=6589018599259279940&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6589018599259279940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6589018599259279940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/04/every-morning-or-when-i-get-home-or.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-8088872290867933179</id><published>2010-03-19T15:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T15:53:27.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hypothetically, if you are to stumble upon your husbands blog from rehab. Do not read it! This cannot be emphsized enough.&lt;br&gt;If you did it may hypothetically make you throw up in the garden. May make you realize you didn&amp;#39;t know your husband at all. May make you question your whole life with him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-8088872290867933179?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8088872290867933179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=8088872290867933179&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8088872290867933179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8088872290867933179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/03/hypothetically-if-you-are-to-stumble.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7446175206058638678</id><published>2010-03-08T08:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T08:52:06.645-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You want to hear about how depressed Jon is? Yeah me neither.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7446175206058638678?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7446175206058638678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7446175206058638678&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7446175206058638678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7446175206058638678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/03/you-want-to-hear-about-how-depressed.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1867750982997006141</id><published>2010-01-19T21:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T21:47:39.671-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Don&amp;#39;t Ask&lt;br&gt;So I am watching some battle of the best of america&amp;#39;s funniest home videos. Yeah don&amp;#39;t ask, anyway coolio voted for the laughing 4 babies. I am laughing, like a lot. Kathy griffin and someone called peek-a-boo? Are judging? &lt;br&gt;Jon is out of rehab. He is living in a sober living environment. The roomate is gone. Thank the gods. Jon was fired from his job. Been quite a year. &lt;br&gt;Yee-ha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1867750982997006141?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1867750982997006141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1867750982997006141&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1867750982997006141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1867750982997006141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/01/don-ask-so-i-am-watching-some-battle-of.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5678517167112518914</id><published>2010-01-13T20:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T20:20:37.040-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It is so bizaro to look down and see a different body- small wrists, legs that don&amp;#39;t rub together, lost 2 pants sizes and about 30lbs over the last 6-9 months. &lt;br&gt;I am hella skinny. Skinnier than I was before I had the kid. Back to my gym rat, dieting-like-mad, fighting weight. I look awesome. My friend calls it the devils trade off: look fantastic feel like shit. I&amp;#39;ll take it. I feel like I took the sleeping cure. But I guess it was just a modifiesd depression diet. Also I don&amp;#39;t want to give j the excuse to cat around. &amp;quot;He&amp;#39;s got the good shit at home.&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt;Whatever - let it go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5678517167112518914?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5678517167112518914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5678517167112518914&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5678517167112518914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5678517167112518914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2010/01/it-is-so-bizaro-to-look-down-and-see.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-8265590926658490946</id><published>2009-12-09T23:20:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T23:20:48.724-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hey cuz,&lt;br&gt;Jon isn&amp;#39;t getting out of rehab until January. It sux, I know I should be happy he is in there and trying to turn his life around. But I am selfish and can&amp;#39;t stand having to be a single parent.&lt;p&gt;We ended up going to my friends&amp;#39; brother&amp;#39;s house for turkey day. E got to hang out with his best pal.&lt;br&gt; I can&amp;#39;t believe Grammie didn&amp;#39;t remember she had thanksgiving every year for like 25 years. My mom mentioned grammie has been extra forgetful lately.&lt;br&gt;Ended up spending e&amp;#39;s birthday at rehab. That was fun, not!  The inmates ate all the cupcakes!&lt;br&gt;Looks like we may go to tahoe for Xmas. Which in theory would be fun. I guess or better than sinking into a deep dark Yuletide depression ...&lt;br&gt;Nothing new to report. Jut the same general bullshit. Sorry it took me so long to respond. I am tired to the bone.&lt;br&gt;Kl&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-8265590926658490946?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8265590926658490946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=8265590926658490946&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8265590926658490946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8265590926658490946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/12/hey-cuz-jon-isn-getting-out-of-rehab.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1981738742179120625</id><published>2009-12-02T09:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T09:13:49.641-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Husband company said they would pay him through November, just kidding! I believe I just made my last mortgage payment. Foreclosure here we come. I call my husband @ rehab and he is defensive... Then I cried cause my roomate was taking too long in the bathroom. FML.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1981738742179120625?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1981738742179120625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1981738742179120625&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1981738742179120625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1981738742179120625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/12/husband-company-said-they-would-pay-him.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7416733219929271989</id><published>2009-11-30T17:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-01T09:15:04.948-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flooded</title><content type='html'>Why are the days after seeing jon so hard? E seems like an extra pill. I have no patience and am deeply offended by bad behavior. I was a bit of a bitch today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't I make my bed every day? I think b/c I honestly think, "perhaps...today... will be the day I get to go back to bed..." hi-larious&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7416733219929271989?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7416733219929271989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7416733219929271989&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7416733219929271989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7416733219929271989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/flooded.html' title='Flooded'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5750463443983926598</id><published>2009-11-29T18:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T18:07:30.990-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Then All of a Sudden, He Was Four.</title><content type='html'>I did not mean that as an ill to you, to fucking drunks (and drunk dads)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just got back from e's forth birthday at effin rehab. yeah, it was as sweet as it sounds, the inmates ate all the cupcakes...ugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon has been working out and doing yard work in the sun. He has a six pack!! he hasn't had one of those in like a decade...He looks fucking amazing! His skin looks glowing good, his hair is glossy. Ok, enough, I am salivating. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;While Jon has been inside, I have lost some weight, got a fly hairs cut and sort of rehabilitated my eating habits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My house is a mess, I can't get on top of anything (literally or figuratively.) Trying to keep doing the best I can. The day after T-day was a literal black Friday. I was a train wreck and I was so surprised!! I fear the holidays. All of them...&lt;br /&gt;well thanksgiving and e's birthday are done. xmas, new years, and our anniversary to go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sorry this just became a blog post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5750463443983926598?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5750463443983926598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5750463443983926598&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5750463443983926598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5750463443983926598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/then-all-of-sudden-he-was-four.html' title='Then All of a Sudden, He Was Four.'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2199340069529391100</id><published>2009-11-23T02:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-23T02:07:24.794-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Scary Tarot Reading (or does this apply perfectly to you too)</title><content type='html'>Your question: jon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;moon (reversed) in the&lt;br /&gt;Up and Coming position&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stung or mislead by shattered reflection of one-of-your-kind, repulsed by weakness and shiny-happy-people, you abandon the vigil or cross the line but maintain the illusion of choice. Any wonder you turn growling resentment inside-outward or deny wellsprings of spontaneous feelings that simmer beneath the surface to go the twin extremes a half life Jekyll and Hyde like, until one doesn't even recognize the other in the mirror image. but it;s an unconvincing safe-haven to avoid becoming something you fear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;strength (upright)&lt;br /&gt;Guidance position&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's OK to be afraid, but steady your nerves and do it anyway -and no regrets, because when such an intimate crisis exposes your own human frailty or the pose reaches its most difficult state of endurance is when the potential for personal triumph is greatest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2199340069529391100?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2199340069529391100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2199340069529391100&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2199340069529391100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2199340069529391100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/scary-tarot-reading-or-does-this-apply.html' title='Scary Tarot Reading (or does this apply perfectly to you too)'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7189654344665947915</id><published>2009-11-21T16:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T16:56:50.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So fucking stupid:&lt;br&gt;So I wrote Jon a letter on Monday. It was me pretty much laying my guts on the line. He got it the next day. &amp;quot;I got your mail, it is hard to talk about I&amp;#39;ll write you back. So I dutifully check the mail. By Friday I ask him if I should stop looking for a letter. He says no I am going to send it down with my&lt;br&gt;Mom and you&amp;#39;ll get it Saturday just as if I mailed it.&amp;quot; Big surprise no letter with mom. I start sobbing immediately. She says, &amp;quot;well his recovery comes first.&amp;quot;&lt;br&gt;I know he lied to me about the letter, there is no letter. Right back to the old ways. &amp;quot;He is such a fucking liar&amp;quot;, I sobbed and walked out.&lt;br&gt;I get it. It is all about him. It always will be. What the fuck  am I doing?&lt;br&gt;I am trying to be zen about it. With all the chaos just do and the answer will present itself. I know I am not going to get served with anything I can&amp;#39;t handle but we are getting pretty fucking close to critical mass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7189654344665947915?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7189654344665947915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7189654344665947915&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7189654344665947915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7189654344665947915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/so-fucking-stupid-so-i-wrote-jon-letter.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5601107507548836422</id><published>2009-11-14T14:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T15:03:09.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Post #334</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRoVG9m00RA&amp;feature=related"&gt;Fine for Now&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was time, it took time (impossible)&lt;br /&gt;There is time, so much time&lt;br /&gt;There is time, so much time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the kids on the waterfront shyly raise their hands&lt;br /&gt;Done asking for your permission, please understand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we’re all faltering, how’d I help with that?&lt;br /&gt;If it’s all or nothing, then let me go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we’re all faltering, why’d I help with that?&lt;br /&gt;If it’s all or nothing then let me go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was time, it took time (impossible)&lt;br /&gt;There is time, so much time&lt;br /&gt;There is time, so much time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the kids on the waterfront shyly raise their hands&lt;br /&gt;Done asking for your permission, please understand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we’re all faltering, how’d I help with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it’s all or nothing then let me go&lt;br /&gt;If it’s all or nothing then let me go&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5601107507548836422?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5601107507548836422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5601107507548836422&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5601107507548836422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5601107507548836422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/post-334.html' title='Post #334'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3215757689384595388</id><published>2009-11-12T20:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T20:56:37.907-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Turns out, the rehab place jon&amp;#39;s at won&amp;#39;t let you out around the holidays, so no daddy for Christmas. Awesomeness! If I go East for Xmas, there will be bums and junkies in my posh(ish) San Francisco pad. Ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3215757689384595388?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3215757689384595388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3215757689384595388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3215757689384595388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3215757689384595388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/turns-out-rehab-place-jon-at-won-let.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-4275385252260400484</id><published>2009-11-08T20:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T20:55:56.149-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>An Education may be a good movie. Maybe if it wasn&amp;#39;t about a lying man who cheats on his wife, it wouldn&amp;#39;t be so pertinent. I want my $13 bucks back :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-4275385252260400484?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4275385252260400484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=4275385252260400484&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4275385252260400484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4275385252260400484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/education-may-be-good-movie.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5166685760828596075</id><published>2009-11-08T18:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T18:59:27.845-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Went and saw Jon today for the first in three weeks. He asked me if I lost weight. Ummm. He told me he was going to be recomended to stay another 28 days. I was keeping my sanity by saying at least he&amp;#39;ll be home for Thanksgiving, at least he&amp;#39;ll be home for e&amp;#39;s birthday. &lt;br&gt;Nope.&lt;br&gt;I have to pack up the house. I have to put it on the market.&lt;br&gt;Awesomeness.&lt;p&gt;Addiction is a narcisistic disease. No shit.&lt;p&gt;Was up at his rehab place all day. So angry. I shouted in group. Partners in recovery is the name of that group. Said fuck a whole bunch of times. Yelled and sobbed at Jon. &lt;br&gt;19 days sober. I am jealous of all his rehab friends. They get to see the real him. A Jon I wouldn&amp;#39;t recognize. He gets to play daddy for an hour or two and introduce e to all his rehab buddies. No way. He fucked that up. Ugh.&lt;br&gt;Let it go.&lt;br&gt;Loving detachment for my qualifier. Love your addict but don&amp;#39;t trust them.&lt;p&gt;Fuckity fuck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5166685760828596075?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5166685760828596075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5166685760828596075&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5166685760828596075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5166685760828596075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/went-and-saw-jon-today-for-first-in.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-570583060588703368</id><published>2009-11-07T12:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T12:44:26.368-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Went to my first al-anon meeting today and sobbed all the way through it. It was in the Castro so there were a lot of the gays. I was recommended a womens meeting Monday night. I got a bunch of hugs. This rock star guy named Nikita hugged me for so long that I started sobbing again, and he hugged me more. It was a nice non judgemental space. The lexicon is weird. Going up to see Jon for the first time in three weeks tomorrow. I should be used to him being gone, being distant, but I miss him so much. I am in charge - I am making a choice.  Not getting any easier anytime soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-570583060588703368?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/570583060588703368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=570583060588703368&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/570583060588703368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/570583060588703368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/11/went-to-my-first-al-anon-meeting-today.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2861879979772077944</id><published>2009-10-22T16:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T16:43:55.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>He came outside with his knives, two in one hand and the big one in the other. Went into the middle of the street and screamed who wants to fuck with me?&lt;br&gt;He runs down Fillmore. I follow yelling Jon stop, he whips his wedding ring and tells me to go and fuck myself. A funny guy walking behind him says &amp;quot;I think he wants you to go and fuck yourself.&amp;quot; a girl says &amp;quot;I love you&amp;quot; to me.&lt;p&gt;I bump into the roomate. And he starts following Jon with me. I find him on the corner of church and duboce brandishing knives at strangers. He engages a man who starts using his bike like a lion tamer uses a chair to fend Jon off. I tried to get in the middle he shoves me down he shoves Jesse down. I call 911. I follow Jon from about a half block away till the cops pick him up at the end of Waller. He is sitting on the stoop in cuffs, he says, you should have called someone sooner. I told him to fuck off and walked away.&lt;br&gt;That was Tuesday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2861879979772077944?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2861879979772077944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2861879979772077944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2861879979772077944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2861879979772077944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/he-came-outside-with-his-knives-two-in.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2584414322489843948</id><published>2009-10-18T16:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T16:59:01.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night jon went to bed at 9:30. I watched the project runway I missed Thursday. Then the movie The Women was on hbo. Now the original of this movie was made in 1939 and stars one of my favorite movie stars, Norma Shearer. &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0790454/bio"&gt;http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0790454/bio&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;The new one stars Meg Ryan (bleck) and well all these stars. I watched the whole thing. Candice Bergen was super funny in it. And Annette Bennings played a better Samantha type character than Samantha (minus the slut factor). I don&amp;#39;t know, the remake is stupid but I kinda feel like it was speaking to me. Probably b/c I am stupid. &lt;p&gt;Reading a &amp;quot;poem &amp;quot; that jon wrote (I am paraphrasing) &amp;#39;pulling red hairs off my clothes I don&amp;#39;t know who they belong to&amp;#39;&lt;p&gt;Cause his gf has red hair too, and that was where he &amp;quot;crashed out&amp;quot; Friday night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2584414322489843948?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2584414322489843948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2584414322489843948&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2584414322489843948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2584414322489843948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/last-night-jon-went-to-bed-at-930.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2792817963254967833</id><published>2009-10-17T13:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T13:37:28.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My dh stayed out all night again last night. I asked him not to go as I was really looking forward to a nite in with him. And when I say ask I mean beg and sob and cry. So I went up to Walgreens. I came back and ran into Shea we had both had a few and got to talking Jon snuck out while I was gone. He left him with our iv drug user roomate. Then he never came home. I called his mom around 6 am or so absolutely hysterical. I texted jons friend several times. I gave the number to jon&amp;#39;s mom. Jon calls me about 10:30 sat morning &amp;quot;I crashed out here I&amp;#39;ll be home later.&amp;quot; no apology.&lt;p&gt;He walked in around 11:40, and went to bed...where he is right now. &lt;p&gt;Cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2792817963254967833?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2792817963254967833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2792817963254967833&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2792817963254967833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2792817963254967833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-dh-stayed-out-all-night-again-last.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-4777619781265356158</id><published>2009-10-15T21:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T21:51:09.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I followed jon to a party, I got to meet the crush. she is 10 years younger, red hair, freckled and skinny, oh well. I didn&amp;#39;t have the courage to say anything. she wears a shit ton of make up and &amp;quot;she is not a coke head&amp;quot; says my dh. &lt;br&gt;If was a blind artist exhibit. WTF&lt;br&gt;I don&amp;#39;t know what to do, suggestions welcome.&lt;br&gt;Jon was so Angry he said it was b/c I humiliated cause I pulled him away from his coke dealer. B/c in the past he has told me he doesn&amp;#39;t trust himself to have his number. So I was &amp;quot;mama bearing&amp;quot; it up and protecting mine. I love that fool. I will fight for him. What do I need to do? Lose some weight? Watch more porn? My heart is breaking, we are not going to grow old together... Painful. Stupid ass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-4777619781265356158?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4777619781265356158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=4777619781265356158&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4777619781265356158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4777619781265356158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-i-followed-jon-to-party-i-got-to.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-8928481388806881398</id><published>2009-10-14T14:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T14:22:54.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Now he is saying I took everything out of context and I am crazy. Also he tried to force me to go to the hospital. Next time I am feeling suicidal I am just going to keep it to myself tillit passes. Jon just uses it against me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-8928481388806881398?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8928481388806881398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=8928481388806881398&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8928481388806881398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8928481388806881398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/now-he-is-saying-i-took-everything-out.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1369384315288902987</id><published>2009-10-13T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-13T10:46:57.179-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh I Remember It Like It Was Yesterday</title><content type='html'>October 12, 2009, Columbus Day. The day we decided to end our marriage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;things were said that I have always suspected:&lt;br /&gt;-You are holding me back.&lt;br /&gt;-I am going to be the best designer in the world&lt;br /&gt;-Yes I will pick my carear over my family.&lt;br /&gt;-You are preventing me from doing my job. (he should be working till 8 pm every night and gone every weekend)&lt;br /&gt;-I am not cut out to be a father.&lt;br /&gt;- I was hoping that having a blood relation would make a difference, but it isn't in my nature.&lt;br /&gt;- I want to be traveling 200 days a year. &lt;br /&gt;- I won't contest you taking E back to Mass with you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to die. I mean obviously that isn't an option since I am the only one who cares about my son.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1369384315288902987?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1369384315288902987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1369384315288902987&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1369384315288902987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1369384315288902987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/oh-i-remember-it-like-it-was-yesterday.html' title='Oh I Remember It Like It Was Yesterday'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5124083711655488331</id><published>2009-10-08T09:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T09:25:08.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I guess he came home eventually. I went to bed at 12:30. When he sauntered into my room @7. He apologized for not making me more aware of the anthropology party last night. Party was from 7-9 so of course he came in @ 3. He cannot stay awake for his family, but he can stay up for strangers. Who was he with? People. Wouldn&amp;#39;t tell me who. For the second time in a week I was thinking I needed to call the hospitals. So stupid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5124083711655488331?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5124083711655488331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5124083711655488331&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5124083711655488331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5124083711655488331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-i-guess-he-came-home-eventually.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5579363835647036337</id><published>2009-10-07T23:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T23:33:53.419-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Fuckin fuck. What would Michelle Obama do?&lt;br&gt;Not this bullshit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5579363835647036337?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5579363835647036337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5579363835647036337&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5579363835647036337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5579363835647036337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/fuckin-fuck.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7767133977161075273</id><published>2009-10-07T21:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T21:47:43.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It is nearly 10pm. Jon was due home around 6:30. Hmmmmm. What to do?&lt;br&gt;-chumpy mchumperson.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7767133977161075273?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7767133977161075273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7767133977161075273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7767133977161075273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7767133977161075273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/it-is-nearly-10pm.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3527826155218672301</id><published>2009-10-06T17:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T17:55:22.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think I am cracking. However, I am also taking into account the following, &lt;br&gt;1. the date, aunt flo makes me fragile.&lt;br&gt;2. Working on day 7 of a cold. Lower back hurts. Nose congested amounts of snot I have swallowed, immeasurable.&lt;br&gt;3. Interrupted, anxiety fueled dream sleep- never all that restful.&lt;br&gt;4. Seriously considering moving back to the east coast.&lt;p&gt;All of these things coupled with despite the fact that jon is back. He is not here, literally or figuratively. I am a basket case well within reason.&lt;p&gt;I have been trying really hard to let go of my anger. I think instead I am just redirecting it. Away from the &amp;quot;guilty&amp;quot; party and back to me and e.&lt;p&gt;Last night when jon went to bed @7:00. E was screaming at me that he hates me and wants daddy. He was shrieking this app. 8 feet from where jon was sleeping. Does jon stir ? Sure does, and rolls over. I realize I was looking at the future as a single parent. I would be the one there every day. I would be the bad parent while jon gets to continue to be the slacker liar he is and as a bi-product, the hero.&lt;p&gt;Fml&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3527826155218672301?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3527826155218672301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3527826155218672301&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3527826155218672301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3527826155218672301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-think-i-am-cracking.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3837872714617161681</id><published>2009-10-05T19:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-05T19:28:30.546-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So we are on day 5 of the jetlag. He comes home and is in bed within the hour. Then complains about being up at 5 in the morning. FYI he is the only person who has ever experienced jetlag. I have &amp;quot;no idea&amp;quot; what it is like. In the past 5 days, he has stayed out all night. I caught him drinking at 8 in the morning. And he lost yet another cell phone. Did I mention he was sent away from the dentist? I heard him bragging to the roomate, b/c he was too messed up. Basking in awesomeness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3837872714617161681?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3837872714617161681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3837872714617161681&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3837872714617161681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3837872714617161681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/10/so-we-are-on-day-5-of-jetlag.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1110384774192017929</id><published>2009-09-19T17:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T17:47:48.720-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Super shitty day in the shop. Made $7. If I was paying myself -  less than a dollar an hour. I guess good thing we are already in the red.&lt;br&gt;In other news jon left for a two week Asia trip, see ya next month.&lt;br&gt;In other,  other news I am still drinking a coffee that I bought at 10 this morning. It is rounding up on 6.&lt;br&gt;In conclusion, I think I am losing it, and by it - I mean everything I have held as truths.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1110384774192017929?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1110384774192017929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1110384774192017929&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1110384774192017929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1110384774192017929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/09/super-shitty-day-in-shop.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3014756332850075452</id><published>2009-09-18T17:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T17:16:36.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I just *listened* to Mr Brownstone, without the ears of a 10 year old. Mr Brownstone is not their landlord :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3014756332850075452?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3014756332850075452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3014756332850075452&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3014756332850075452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3014756332850075452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-i-just-listened-to-mr-brownstone.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1009062821788296861</id><published>2009-09-14T06:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T06:03:41.538-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is what happens when you blog after you are woken up b/c you can&amp;#39;t expect your husband to know how to work his alarm clock or shut it off. 5:30 argument. Awesome!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1009062821788296861?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1009062821788296861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1009062821788296861&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1009062821788296861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1009062821788296861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-is-what-happens-when-you-blog.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5931541425141541077</id><published>2009-09-14T06:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T06:01:20.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ok so I was told to &amp;#39;lower my expectations&amp;#39;. Apparently it is too much to expect that my husband would know /&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5931541425141541077?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5931541425141541077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5931541425141541077&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5931541425141541077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5931541425141541077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/09/ok-so-i-was-told-to-my-expectations.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-337383060987627370</id><published>2009-09-09T21:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T21:42:37.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am obviously the stupidest person on the planet. Am I ever going to learn to stop being dissapointed with jon? I am let down so often, and I am not an optomistic person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-337383060987627370?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/337383060987627370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=337383060987627370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/337383060987627370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/337383060987627370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-obviously-stupidest-person-on.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7831591434248483749</id><published>2009-09-08T14:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T14:19:20.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My dog is walking on three legs. I suspect my new roomate is an intravenous drug user. Good times for all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7831591434248483749?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7831591434248483749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7831591434248483749&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7831591434248483749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7831591434248483749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-dog-is-walking-on-three-legs.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-6243263159387455214</id><published>2009-07-24T22:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T22:42:40.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It is so strange to have all these men in my life who think I am a mind reader, most notably my 3 y.o.&lt;p&gt;I am not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-6243263159387455214?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6243263159387455214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=6243263159387455214&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6243263159387455214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6243263159387455214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-is-so-strange-to-have-all-these-men.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-8081531943452311167</id><published>2009-07-24T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T17:59:45.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoppe dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SmpZAQT2R0I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/gKi-YznJAr0/s1600-h/photo-785660.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SmpZAQT2R0I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/gKi-YznJAr0/s320/photo-785660.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362196167251085122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-8081531943452311167?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8081531943452311167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=8081531943452311167&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8081531943452311167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8081531943452311167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/07/shoppe-dog.html' title='Shoppe dog'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SmpZAQT2R0I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/gKi-YznJAr0/s72-c/photo-785660.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7853212278894870266</id><published>2009-07-24T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T17:57:06.619-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This could be the resurection people</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SmpYYqSqldI/AAAAAAAAAeI/FOp4jS9jUkE/s1600-h/photo-726620.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SmpYYqSqldI/AAAAAAAAAeI/FOp4jS9jUkE/s320/photo-726620.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362195487030678994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Shot of the shoppe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7853212278894870266?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7853212278894870266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7853212278894870266&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7853212278894870266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7853212278894870266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-could-be-resurection-people.html' title='This could be the resurection people'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SmpYYqSqldI/AAAAAAAAAeI/FOp4jS9jUkE/s72-c/photo-726620.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-554257687589767372</id><published>2009-07-24T17:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T17:01:11.081-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So if I am reading my iPhone right, this message will post to my blog. Testing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-554257687589767372?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/554257687589767372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=554257687589767372&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/554257687589767372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/554257687589767372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/07/so-if-i-am-reading-my-iphone-right-this.html' title=''/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-636032282987584451</id><published>2009-07-24T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T15:46:34.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Also I made some soup.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo5ABZxidI/AAAAAAAAAeA/1u2zd2AhdSw/s1600-h/soup+002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo5ABZxidI/AAAAAAAAAeA/1u2zd2AhdSw/s200/soup+002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362160978877319634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4_hvqoxI/AAAAAAAAAd4/634ubKH2b5w/s1600-h/suop+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4_hvqoxI/AAAAAAAAAd4/634ubKH2b5w/s200/suop+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362160970379207442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4_H8viiI/AAAAAAAAAdw/kqwZbIGB04M/s1600-h/suop+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4_H8viiI/AAAAAAAAAdw/kqwZbIGB04M/s200/suop+004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362160963454732834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4-1Ftq-I/AAAAAAAAAdo/vAhYuywLxek/s1600-h/soup+001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4-1Ftq-I/AAAAAAAAAdo/vAhYuywLxek/s200/soup+001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362160958392085474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-636032282987584451?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/636032282987584451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=636032282987584451&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/636032282987584451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/636032282987584451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/07/also-i-made-some-soup.html' title='Also I made some soup.'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo5ABZxidI/AAAAAAAAAeA/1u2zd2AhdSw/s72-c/soup+002.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5765283394363265102</id><published>2009-07-24T15:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T15:40:51.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Know You Should Stop Drinking pt 52</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4Egvs4PI/AAAAAAAAAdg/dL8uuRbZzpI/s1600-h/soup+005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4Egvs4PI/AAAAAAAAAdg/dL8uuRbZzpI/s200/soup+005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362159956498637042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just so sure my ass looked slammin in these jeans. There are app 26 shots of various angles of my ass. I feel like I need to share with the world (hi both of you) what a complete asshole I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5765283394363265102?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5765283394363265102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5765283394363265102&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5765283394363265102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5765283394363265102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/07/you-know-you-should-stop-drinking-pt-52.html' title='You Know You Should Stop Drinking pt 52'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/Smo4Egvs4PI/AAAAAAAAAdg/dL8uuRbZzpI/s72-c/soup+005.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7237678078079069723</id><published>2009-07-16T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T14:19:35.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>eff me</title><content type='html'>Told by my husband, "Of course I havemore fun without you", Check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Accused by my SBF of hooking up with someone, as if I am not An invisible old ugly hag. Check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sobbing in shower. Check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Piece of glass the size of and eyelash stuck in my foot that bled like shit and hurt alot. Check&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bus driver pulling away looking Me in the eye. Check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is 9:15am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running to bus but he stopped this time the tides are turning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7237678078079069723?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7237678078079069723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7237678078079069723&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7237678078079069723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7237678078079069723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/07/eff-me.html' title='eff me'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-6637003343894367160</id><published>2009-07-07T05:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T05:28:29.379-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My first entry sent from my iPhone</title><content type='html'>Ok you'll have to forgive the weird wording, iPhones are not for the fat of fingers. Also apple seems sure to know exactly what your thinking and the don't always accept corrections. So the boy and i are on our anual east coast trip. It has been fun, really fun. Today is Tuesday I think. We arrived Saturday morning after a hellish trip. On my efforts to 'save time' I have really jacked myself up. Also I haven't bathed in a house since I left california. My parents live on a lake here and swimming is way better than standing in a boring old shower. Also I need my sweat and stink shell to protect myself from the masses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back on my anti depressants, zoloft. It was really sketchy Here for a while. Hit a nasty bump in early may and was coersed back on them. But now I am calm to the point of indifference. I am inorgasmic, not that it matters. Except it kinda does. It is just a bummer what I have to trade off to not be totally mental. Just weird. I mean I guess it is a trade, apathy for agitation. The no orgasm thing couldbe from the perfectly legal prescription of Valium I aquired. Makes me sleepy and literally a million miles away. See normally I would be too embarrassed to talk about my orgasms let alone my inability to make a go of it. Yet here I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aren't you glad I broke my silence for this oversharing post?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-6637003343894367160?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6637003343894367160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=6637003343894367160&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6637003343894367160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6637003343894367160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-first-entry-sent-from-my-iphone.html' title='My first entry sent from my iPhone'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3085614938356542318</id><published>2009-04-20T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T16:37:48.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FML</title><content type='html'>I worked on Sunday, 11-7. I work every Sunday, around 5 I get a phone call from j.&lt;br /&gt;-Can you come home?&lt;br /&gt;-Why what is wrong?&lt;br /&gt;-Umm...there is something I need to talk to you about.&lt;br /&gt;-Well, what is it? you are freaking me out?&lt;br /&gt;silence&lt;br /&gt;-I found a condom wrapper...and I found some things you wrote...&lt;br /&gt;-You found a condom wrapper huh? You found some things I wrote. So now you take an interest? Now you are going through my journal? Now you care about what I am doing?&lt;br /&gt;-Well normally I wouldn't go through your stuff and I found all these pages and I just wanted to know what was going on (trails off)&lt;br /&gt;-Whatever, I did not have sex with him, if that is what you want me to come home for then that is silly. I will see you at 7:30 when I get off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "condom wrapper" he found was the ripped off bit of one of those packets of flower food that comes when you buy flowers, he "found" it on the fucking kitchen table, next to the irises I had bought for my fucking self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon then ACCUSES me off having condoms in my room. Ummm, I am married, I hear, in some marriages sex even occurs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is stupid on so many levels I don't even want to address it or discuss it. Things are just devolving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have taken to writing some of my more erotic fantasies/dreams, (this is what he "found" in my drawer next to my bed) -They don't involve my husband. I am sure it would be easier to take if it was about someone else, someone I didn't see, Drew Carey perhaps but it wasn't. I am thinking I may put it up here, see if I can't get any feedback. It has been a long time people...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway it is forbidden to have guests when j is gone. This has to be the worst "love triangle" ever. How am I really still not having sex with anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FML.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3085614938356542318?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.fmylife.com/' title='FML'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3085614938356542318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3085614938356542318&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3085614938356542318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3085614938356542318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/04/fml.html' title='FML'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7793509215679396448</id><published>2009-02-12T09:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T10:01:23.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>keep 'em coming</title><content type='html'>So it has been a particularly shitty couple of weeks. Even more so than usual. And I can be all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;cavalier&lt;/span&gt; about it now, but on Tuesday I was sobbing into the phone to my old old shrink. This would be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; same shrink who a) saved my life, b) who I have not spoken to since I blew off several appointments in SEPTEMBER 2007. It was/is desperate times. Jon was talking about having me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;committed&lt;/span&gt; either with my permission or not. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;guess&lt;/span&gt; I am in a bad place. I do not want to be anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;Before I knew I was suicidal and if I didn't "protect" myself I wasn't going to survive. Now I am more passive. I don't have a plan. I don't have the anxiety that makes me want to off myself. I just want to be gone. I don't want to be at work. I don't want to be with Jon, like at all. I have started calling him &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;POTP&lt;/span&gt;*. Like, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;POTP&lt;/span&gt; can you bring me some toilet paper?"&lt;br /&gt;So last night I sat in my shrinks office with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;jon&lt;/span&gt; and was told I was broken. Told that I had a disease that I can't manage on my own. The reality is that I need to take antidepressants to tolerate life. The reality I am not going to be able to have any more children. I cannot handle what I have. I refuse to get pregnant while on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;SSRI's&lt;/span&gt; and this has nothing to do with the effects on the fetus (well something to do but that is not the main reason) How could I introduce another child to this life? To an unstable mother.&lt;br /&gt;Example: I was checking the dog for fleas (i saw something suspicious) the dog got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;pissy&lt;/span&gt;, growled and snapped at me, trying to bite me. I LOST IT. I screeched at the dog and hit him, he got so scared he pissed. There was no warning, no building just one second concerned dog owner, the next second insane banshee woman full of regrets. Of course when I saw I scared the dog so much he peed. I cried and cried and E was looking at my hands looking for the blood saying, "it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; mommy, it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;I know it is not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;. If anyone ever told me they hit their dog and made it pee I would HATE that person. I would think what a terrible small horrible person. That person should be punished, their animals removed from the house.  Perhaps I would push for incaceration to such a fucked up person. I would certainly not leave my CHILD with this awful person, they can't be trusted with a dog. I wouldn't want that nut job raising a child for sure...&lt;br /&gt;But - it is me. Obviously, I have no choice. I am a danger to myself and my family. I have given up and thrown in the towel, again.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot handle the truth, so I'll settle for shades of grey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;POTP&lt;/span&gt; - Part of the Problem&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7793509215679396448?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7793509215679396448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7793509215679396448&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7793509215679396448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7793509215679396448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/02/keep-em-coming.html' title='keep &apos;em coming'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-9166895850503741978</id><published>2009-01-05T14:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T15:13:59.507-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year 2009</title><content type='html'>Well, things have been happening. But if you were like, hey dude, what's new? I would say, oh you know same old. Because you don't really want to know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as a polite response, I will report the obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a job. In a bookstore. How much do I love it? I am splitting my head like a cracked coconut with all the new information I am acquiring. I love it for 2 major reasons.&lt;br /&gt;1. It is an independent bookseller, in a nice neighborhood with an intelligent, savvy, customer base.&lt;br /&gt;2. I am so not with husband and the boy. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder...till I am home with them and wishing I was anywhere but.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing I loathe about the job -&lt;br /&gt;WAGE. I am just not sure it is sustainable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part where I catch up:&lt;br /&gt;I had my brothers here for visits at different times for most of November.&lt;br /&gt;Christmas was very quiet - just us.&lt;br /&gt;It has been raining for weeks.&lt;br /&gt;My MIL arrives on Thursday for a 5 day trip.&lt;br /&gt;I am terrified of this trip. Apparently, my husband has been using his mother as his confidant for all the troubles he has endured with his crazy wife. I spoke with her today and she kept saying things like, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ohhhhh&lt;/span&gt; I know all about that -when I thought I was dropping bombshells on her. I think she may have actually said, I know a lot more than you think. But I was crying and bitching. It was probably really stupid to call her. I was so pissed at husband. I didn't feel like I could call my mom or any of my friends. I wanted to call someone that would stand up for him.&lt;br /&gt;What is wrong with me?&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, I am pretty much  positive we are looking at an intervention. Either we are going to have to have something with my husband or I am walking into another anti-depressant ultimatum.&lt;br /&gt;Good Times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=KijJVH5TghAC"&gt;The Center Cannot Hold &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to (like it is the soundtrack to my life):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Panda+Bear/Person+Pitch"&gt;Panda Bear, &lt;em&gt;Person Pitch.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-9166895850503741978?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/9166895850503741978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=9166895850503741978&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/9166895850503741978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/9166895850503741978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2009/01/happy-new-year-2009.html' title='Happy New Year 2009'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5117594094718848275</id><published>2008-11-06T15:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T15:15:03.882-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Over Breakfast</title><content type='html'>"Elias you eat your peanut butter toast, then, while you are eating I can feed everyone else"&lt;br /&gt;The kitties swarm around my ankles trying to kill me on route to their food, so thankful are they.&lt;br /&gt;"Mom, you are taking care of the kitties right?&lt;br /&gt;"yup&lt;br /&gt;"then you feed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Motu&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;"yup&lt;br /&gt;"and you already fed me?&lt;br /&gt;"of course, you are the loudest you get fed first"&lt;br /&gt;"who feeds you?&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ummm&lt;/span&gt;, well, i feed myself, quite frequently as it would seem&lt;br /&gt;"who takes care of you?&lt;br /&gt;"well, daddy I guess.&lt;br /&gt;"then who takes care of daddy?&lt;br /&gt;"well I take care of daddy and daddy takes care of me"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;NOOOOOOO&lt;/span&gt; that's silly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5117594094718848275?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5117594094718848275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5117594094718848275&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5117594094718848275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5117594094718848275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/11/over-breakfast.html' title='Over Breakfast'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5312376838959785263</id><published>2008-10-31T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T13:10:36.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween</title><content type='html'>Swift fire spread through&lt;br /&gt;her veins, knocked at her heart,&lt;br /&gt;Met the fire smouldering there&lt;br /&gt;And overbore its lesser flame,&lt;br /&gt;She gorged on bitterness without&lt;br /&gt;a name:&lt;br /&gt;Ah! fool, to choose such part&lt;br /&gt;Of soul-consuming care!&lt;br /&gt;Sense failed in the mortal strife:&lt;br /&gt;Like the watch-tower of a town&lt;br /&gt;Which an earthquake shatters down,&lt;br /&gt;Like a lightning-stricken mast,&lt;br /&gt;Like a wind-uprooted tree&lt;br /&gt;Spun about,&lt;br /&gt;Like a foam-topped water-spout&lt;br /&gt;Cast down headlong in the sea,&lt;br /&gt;She fell at last;&lt;br /&gt;Pleasure past and anguish past,&lt;br /&gt;Is it death or is it life ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5312376838959785263?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5312376838959785263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5312376838959785263&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5312376838959785263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5312376838959785263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/10/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3839937618925612802</id><published>2008-10-18T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T10:24:07.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spots</title><content type='html'>-I have a HUGE spot on my chin that may require stitches.&lt;br /&gt;-E crying and whining at 10:21 pm last night (in his room). Still up at 5:30. lack of sleep makes me hate myself...&lt;br /&gt;- E is yelling at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;california&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;california&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;california&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;california&lt;/span&gt; not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;california&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;augh&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3839937618925612802?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3839937618925612802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3839937618925612802&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3839937618925612802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3839937618925612802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/10/spots.html' title='Spots'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2634819121815916955</id><published>2008-10-16T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T11:07:29.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Score card: E -1 mommy  - 0</title><content type='html'>Jeez where do I begin?&lt;br /&gt;Well daddy left yesterday and so it is down to 2.&lt;br /&gt;Pick E up from school.&lt;br /&gt;He is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hungry&lt;/span&gt; and eats and entire PB&amp;amp;J &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sandwich&lt;/span&gt;, score 1 for mommy.&lt;br /&gt;He watches a little bit of the debate with me. He keeps calling McCain, Joe Bidden. I tell him "no, that is old man &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;McCain&lt;/span&gt;, he is the bad guy." point to mommy. mommy 2- e 0.&lt;br /&gt;He refuses to take bath.  there is the first one for E. I trick him by letting him eat pudding in the tub. I think I lose a point for that. mommy 1 - E 1.&lt;br /&gt;I break a cardinal parenting rule and walk away from the bathtub and go to fold some clothes in the other room. I can still see him rubbing something thick looking in his hair. It is my oil based super &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;moisturizing&lt;/span&gt; body butter lotion. Point to E.&lt;br /&gt;It is impossible to wash out and so he looks like a big grease ball. mommy 1 - E 2.&lt;br /&gt;He spends like an hour in his room while I watch Americas Next Top Model and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hoark&lt;/span&gt; down a 22 of Anchor Steam lager.&lt;br /&gt;He comes out around 8:48. The threats start. mommy loses a point. mommy 0 - E 2.&lt;br /&gt;I watch Leeann win Project runway. At least they shot down &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Kenley&lt;/span&gt; in a very satisfying way. But I wanted &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Korto&lt;/span&gt; to win. I liked her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;stylo&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;4:30 am&lt;br /&gt;-mommy I have to pee.&lt;br /&gt;-you peed?&lt;br /&gt;-no I have to.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take him to pee but I don't want to turn on the light and wake either of us up any more. I hear the pee hit the shower curtain. I have to take off his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;jammie&lt;/span&gt; bottoms because "they got all wet" with pee!&lt;br /&gt;Back to bed- point to E for not peeing the bed. Mommy 0- e 3.&lt;br /&gt;4:38&lt;br /&gt;-mommy there are skeletons in my room&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; get in the big bed. point to E. Mommy 0 - e  4.&lt;br /&gt;We fall &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;asleep&lt;/span&gt; face to face and he has his hand tucked into the pillow.&lt;br /&gt;4:58&lt;br /&gt;I wake up to a toenail in my lips. Make a mental note to cut toenails in the morning since my lip is bleeding. Roll over and go back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;8:45 wake up to E crushing my head with his legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;trick e to getting into stroller because we are going to the bagel shop. (point to mommy)We do go to bagel shop but on route to school, because he doesn't want to go.&lt;br /&gt;Drop him off at school and get cornered my A, a big girl at E's school. She tells me in great detail about her recent tooth loss. I feel faint as she wiggles her tongue in that icky tooth hole. you know what I mean with that red cushion of blood...swoon. I tell her I am not a fan of blood stories. So I take my leave as A screams "blood stories, blood story, blood story" at me through the mail slot. Point to mommy.&lt;br /&gt;Final score: mommy 2 - E 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by 10 am today my parental duties are done until maybe midnight tonight. I am going to a &lt;a href="http://www.gamh.com/artist_pages/dead_c_101608.htm"&gt;show&lt;/a&gt; tonight, by myself. I am having our beloved babysitter pick up Elias at school. I cannot remember the last time I went to a show by myself....&lt;br /&gt;Jon and I were supposed to go together.&lt;br /&gt;Then this trip came up suddenly. So he is in Vietnam.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2634819121815916955?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2634819121815916955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2634819121815916955&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2634819121815916955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2634819121815916955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/10/score-card-e-1-mommy-0.html' title='Score card: E -1 mommy  - 0'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1165301477791670685</id><published>2008-09-05T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T10:23:38.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>month long catch up</title><content type='html'>So E started school. It is very exciting. He is doing a great job.  Of course I am having a bit of a hard time. I feel guilty that E is in school and since I have thrown my identity to the wind, I am finding myself a bit lost. His first two days of school I went and saw three movies. Vicky/Christina/Barcelona (the new woody &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;allen&lt;/span&gt; movie), Death Race (I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;snuck&lt;/span&gt; into this one, is there anything more thrilling) and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Hellboy&lt;/span&gt; II. Then this week when he went to work I was a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;paralyzed&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I miss him when he is at school. I wonder while he is doing while I smoke pot and watch crappy movies on HBO &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;OnDemand&lt;/span&gt;. Such is our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;financial&lt;/span&gt; situation that I am giving myself an ulcer trying to figure out a way to get a job. The reality &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;suckfest&lt;/span&gt; is that I haven't had a real (paying) job since 2004. Then I went back to school, then we moved aross the country, then I worked for like 1 day at a temp agency, then I got pregnant. So when the job application asks for work experience, I just want to sit down and cry.&lt;br /&gt;Is it this hard for every over-educated mom who chose to stay at home with their kid? they are punished when they try to re-enter the work force? And I have lowered my standards quite a bit at this point. I just won't work for below minimum wage, because that is what we are paying for school so we need to break even right?&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, things are either right as rain, or in the absolute &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;shitter&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;E is in a massive NO stage. He is impossible. I guess it is the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;transition&lt;/span&gt; from school. He has started biting and whipping his toys. He is getting increasingly sophisticated in his reasoning.&lt;br /&gt;In fact he just threw a die-cast airplane at my back. I look like a battered wife.&lt;br /&gt;The more "me" time I get, the more "me" time I want.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1165301477791670685?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1165301477791670685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1165301477791670685&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1165301477791670685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1165301477791670685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/09/month-long-catch-up.html' title='month long catch up'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2065483640070816537</id><published>2008-08-01T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T14:50:54.417-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TTAPMOT (Things that are pissing me off today)</title><content type='html'>-No milk for my morning tea. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;grrrrr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I forgot about some very nice strawberries and they spoiled before I could eat them.&lt;br /&gt;-E is being Captain Wasteful with food.&lt;br /&gt;-having my head so far up my ass that I didn't even realize there was a total solar eclipse today. I am usually all over that shit.&lt;br /&gt;-willfully, albeit accidentally, infesting my bathroom with beetles. The first week of June, We were on an outdoor adventure. We were at the &lt;a href="http://www.folgerstable.org/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Folger&lt;/span&gt; Estate&lt;/a&gt;, it is a very cool place. I am a bit of a collector. While there I found a &lt;a href="http://www.ohio-nature.com/image-files/buckeye-nuts-lg.jpg"&gt;buckeye&lt;/a&gt;. These things are cool looking. They have a really nice weight and feel about them. I thought it neat and took it home, put in in my bathroom as a bit of "found art." Maybe a week ago these little black beetles started showing up, two or three at a time. They were slow moving and I would just wash them down the drain. Last night there were maybe a dozen of them and I was getting a bit freaked out. Where the eff where these coming from? I lifted up the buckeye, (after a few hours of racking my brain that is) it felt strangely hollow and there was a little pile of dust underneath it. I cracked it open and the thing was filled with these little black beetles that looked like big, non-jumping, slow fleas. GROSS CITY. They must have hatched and gone looking for water.&lt;br /&gt;-Ongoing month-long headache.&lt;br /&gt;-Headache causing me to forget everything. I made hard-boiled eggs for our mid-morning snack, put them in a pot in the sink to cool and just found them 4 hours later. Went to grocery store to get milk, forgot to buy J transit pass for the month, the main reason I went to the Safeway and not the nice local marker, duh!&lt;br /&gt;-ran out of cat food. I am currently hating the cats for pissing on my stupidly expensive beanbag chair. I can't get the smell out. have used pounds of baking soda and managed to spill vinegar just about everywhere in the process of trying to clean piss, now house smells like douche.&lt;br /&gt;-E dropped the hummingbird feeder on the rug - Sugar water everywhere! I overreacted and made him cry.&lt;br /&gt;-J told me he was going to get out of work at 3 pm today, called a little while ago to tell me- Just Kidding. He has too much work to do and won't be home until after 6 pm.&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;MIL's&lt;/span&gt; 20 year old cat died and she is despondent. He died last weekend and she is calling me crying almost everyday. Sympathy running thin, I am a hateful bitch, but at this point I don't understand why people even keep cats at pets. (see above)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I am a fucking picnic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2065483640070816537?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2065483640070816537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2065483640070816537&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2065483640070816537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2065483640070816537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/08/ttapmot-things-that-are-pissing-me-off.html' title='TTAPMOT (Things that are pissing me off today)'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-948917879906504355</id><published>2008-07-24T16:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T16:53:45.118-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye Last Shred of Dignity</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;So I made a new friend. She is cool and her son is very close in age to E.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went to the &lt;a href="http://www.baykidsmuseum.org/"&gt;Bay Area Discovery Museum&lt;/a&gt; with them on our first big play date. What a fun place. It is over in &lt;a href="http://www.marinmagazine.com/"&gt;Marin&lt;/a&gt; and therefore filled with "Marin Moms." Women with perfect hair, nails done, outfits just so, looking perfectly dignified. Scowling at me in horror that my son is covered in strawberry Popsicle stains and my sunscreen self-application looks a lot like Heath's joker.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SIkNS-ltxUI/AAAAAAAAADs/ML73bY65Jf4/s1600-h/Batman_joker1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226723462230164802" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SIkNS-ltxUI/AAAAAAAAADs/ML73bY65Jf4/s200/Batman_joker1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Actually his hair looks better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I take E to the bathroom. Well of course my tampon leaked and of course E was right in the front row taking notes. He shouts, "Mommy! you pooped you pants!" I hear giggles from outside, I try to just ignore him and not make a big deal, you know no reaction, no big whoop, right? E is dancing around the stall (we were in the big one) shouting "mommy pooped her pants, mommy pooped her pants, mommy pooped her pants!" I walked out of the stall with my head down. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When J comes home he always asks E what we did that day. The answer is always,"I don't know." Because you know, naps erase the memory. Not that day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Mommy pooped her pants." is what we did on Wednesday, in case you were curious.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am still not sure which is more traumatising that your mom poops her pants, or that your mom bleeds out of a mysterious hole that sometimes she stuffs with a white mouse with a long tail.  I need more privacy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-948917879906504355?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/948917879906504355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=948917879906504355&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/948917879906504355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/948917879906504355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/07/goodbye-last-shred-of-dignity.html' title='Goodbye Last Shred of Dignity'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SIkNS-ltxUI/AAAAAAAAADs/ML73bY65Jf4/s72-c/Batman_joker1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7406201153389062400</id><published>2008-07-23T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T16:24:53.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perspective</title><content type='html'>For in a swift &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;radiance&lt;/span&gt; of illumination he saw a glimpse of human struggle and of valor. Of the endless fluid passage of humanity through endless time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-McCullers Carson, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7406201153389062400?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7406201153389062400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7406201153389062400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7406201153389062400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7406201153389062400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/07/perspective.html' title='Perspective'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-8750666218531296209</id><published>2008-07-08T16:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T16:21:53.492-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trying to buy a bike on craigslist without murder</title><content type='html'>Hi Kristen,  Unfortunately I do not have a photo of it, but you can come by to take a look. Give me a call at 567-1234 and we can set up a time.  Thanks,  Damien Slaughter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that is a &lt;em&gt;terrible&lt;/em&gt; name for an ax-murderer. Yeah, I'll be right over...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-8750666218531296209?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8750666218531296209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=8750666218531296209&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8750666218531296209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8750666218531296209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/07/trying-to-buy-bike-on-craigslist.html' title='Trying to buy a bike on craigslist without murder'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7041793746595479120</id><published>2008-06-24T15:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T15:19:50.577-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trying Trackback</title><content type='html'>List the five most character-defining things that have happened to me in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#1. Having E. Yeah yeah nothing galvanizes you as a person like having a kid, blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2. Being hospitalized for depression after E was born. I am a much more empathetic person because of the pain I experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3. Going for my Masters 2003-2005.&lt;br /&gt;Realizing, hey yeah, if I do put my mind to it, I really can do anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4. Moving to NYC in 1999. Bravery. Moving there with no $$, no job, no place to live. That takes balls, maybe stupid balls that only 22 y.o. have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5. Meeting and &lt;em&gt;eventually&lt;/em&gt; marrying my other half. Lucky in Luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7041793746595479120?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.typepad.com/t/trackback/20833/30530698' title='Trying Trackback'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7041793746595479120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7041793746595479120&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7041793746595479120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7041793746595479120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/06/trying-trackback.html' title='Trying Trackback'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2432384284149642027</id><published>2008-06-24T09:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T11:08:42.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dawn of Day Three of Ten</title><content type='html'>So last night, after 6pm, E and I went to walk the dog. We ended up at a sketchy playground that E loves. I ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS do a sweep of a new park. I check under the structures for needles and inside any enclosed areas for gross stuff. But I had the dog and he isn't supposed to be in the play area and so I yelled at E to do a quick circuit so we could look at the community garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E went headfirst down the tunnel slide and started screaching. That 1.7 seconds that it took me to cross the sand to him, I realized I didn't have my phone to call 911. He sounded really hurt, that scary cry that makes you sweat and run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully he had only slid, hands and chest first into human shit. That is right, someone deficated on the slide and my son slid right into it. I was so mad at myself. I mean, this is not the first time someone has shit in a slide/tunnel in a playground. This is what happens in a city that hates children and homeless, they turn on each other. I can't believe I let that happen. I always check, why didn't I this time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran home with him after I pulled off all his piss and shit covered clothes. I threw his clothes in the washing machine and shoved him in the bath. Poor E is so used to me being mad at me that he kept saying he was sorry, and then asking me if I was happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By bedtime I was extra wrecked. I just didn't want to fight. So at 8 pm exactly, I just set him up in my bed with all his stuff. I must have fallen asleep 40 times just to be woken up by his movements and singing. At 9 i just freaked out. I started crying and ranting like a lunatic. I put him in his room, put his lamp on and shut both the doors. Earlier that day at Target, I bought some of those "safety door" things to keep him in his room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then of course I was too geared up to get to sleep so I went and partook of my newest guilty pleasure, CSI.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2432384284149642027?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2432384284149642027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2432384284149642027&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2432384284149642027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2432384284149642027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/06/dawn-of-day-three-of-ten.html' title='The Dawn of Day Three of Ten'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7402149093096467108</id><published>2008-06-23T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T09:48:05.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2 of 10</title><content type='html'>So we have been having a really really hard time getting E to bed. Like really hard. As in Saturday night, I ended up slapping him and then sobbing outside into the warm night air. I know, I am a monster. How could a two year old get me to that level?&lt;br /&gt;'Bedtime' started at 7:45. It was after 10 that I lost it and slapped him.  It was after hours of trying to be reasonable, negotiating, and threatening. In the end hitting did nothing but demonstrate my utter lack of control and his success in working me up into a lather. It also didn't 'scare him' into submission.&lt;br /&gt;Sunday j left for Beijing. Last night I tried to reason with him. Bedtime started at 7:30 pm with a calming bath, no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;, and several stories. I left his lamp on in his room. Because it was "too &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;darky&lt;/span&gt;." Then we tried sleeping in '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mommy's&lt;/span&gt; crib.' After 40 minutes of that failing I put him back in his room, with the lamp on. He still came out. My blood was boiling. At 10pm I totally lost it. I couldn't even trust myself to put him back in his crib. I just screamed him back to bed, soothing no? I shut off the light and locked the door. He screamed and banged at the door for 10 minutes. I am surprised my neighbors didn't call the cops. Because 10 minutes of toddler &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;shrieking&lt;/span&gt; is pretty alarming.&lt;br /&gt;He was up at 4 because he 'had to poop'. He didn't.&lt;br /&gt;Of course I had to stay up until midnight just to try to  capture some time for me. Margot at the Wedding was a pretty good movie. I heart Jennifer Jason Leigh, she is so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also put a no-call gag on J. I hate talking to him while he is traveling. All he does is complain, all I do is complain. Of course he called today, yes after I reiterated what I needed from him several times, big surprise, it fell on deaf ears. So I let E talk to him and then pretty much hung up on him. Things have been EXTREMELY strained with J. As in we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;haven't&lt;/span&gt; been sleeping in the same room. I have such incredible resentment for him. I can't stand being in the same room with him. I can't stand the way he smells, the noises he makes while he sleeps, the way he talks to the dog. All of his actions seem to highlight all the things about him that make me crazy. I am in a pretty bad funk about it. Aside from the two hours of relief i get from E in the evening, I am actually glad he is gone. I am making the dog sleep out of the room. If only I could &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;paralyze&lt;/span&gt; the cats from 8pm-8am, then I wouldn't have been woken up by them.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is afraid of me, the dog is running around with his butt tucked and his ears back. E has taken to yelling his needs at me since clearly it is the only way I can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;communicate&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7402149093096467108?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7402149093096467108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7402149093096467108&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7402149093096467108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7402149093096467108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/06/day-2-of-10.html' title='Day 2 of 10'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3701484354476443370</id><published>2008-06-10T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T09:37:24.424-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bitchy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><title type='text'>She said while washing her son's bedroll...</title><content type='html'>Bragging will get you every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my MIL was here for my birthday. How rude of me I should say for her anniversary, because I can't even have my birthday. I COULD NOT have asked for a better present. (Except for the Diane von Furstenberg dress that I bought myself at the sample sale in NYC for an absurd discount.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was awkward. My relationship with my MIL is the most troubling one in my life. I can't say anything to her. Literally because I am a scardy-cat that avoids any type of confrontation, and it doesn't matter what I say she has a wicked case of selective hearing. J says I should write her a letter. But what tell her? to fuck off, I want nothing to do with her? I accept she is my son's grandmother and I don't want to get in the way of that relationship, however, she is detrimental to my psyche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have built up a ton of resentment to J for not taking the reins, and steering his mother away from me. He keeps defending her and alienating me by doing so. He just doesn't get it.&lt;br /&gt;Things have been really strained between us. Neither of us are being kind to each other and I am not sure that we care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday she asked j, on the phone, and she talks loud enough that I can hear her from across the room, 'if didn't he think we should try going back to marriage counseling.' We should go to marriage counseling because I can't stand her meddling busy-bodyness?&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I should have to deal with her at all. If she wants updates or photos she can contact her son. I will be nothing but cordial to her if we need to interact because of E. I have no idea what J is telling her, he says nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J is leaving on the 22nd. He doesn't come back until july 2nd. So there is a lot of resentment there, and separation anxiety. My brother is going to come out and visit for 5 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His family is such a drain. I mean even if he didn't like my family, which is not the case, what is not to love? My parents don't call him. My dad doesn't call him and keep him on the phone for 45 minutes crying. My mother doesn't start every comment with, 'you know what you should do...'&lt;br /&gt;and then ask why j is being so unreasonable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3701484354476443370?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3701484354476443370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3701484354476443370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3701484354476443370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3701484354476443370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/06/she-said-while-washing-her-sons-bedroll.html' title='She said while washing her son&apos;s bedroll...'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7931784138273573948</id><published>2008-06-09T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T20:40:27.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In Case You Didn't Know</title><content type='html'>When all you feed your kid is licorice &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;twislers&lt;/span&gt;, their poop is green. Straight-up, incredible-hulk, GREEN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, fully potty trained, no diapers at night, f*n toilet trained. He turned two and a half May 29&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7931784138273573948?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7931784138273573948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7931784138273573948&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7931784138273573948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7931784138273573948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/06/in-case-you-didnt-know.html' title='In Case You Didn&apos;t Know'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-8603387943606005848</id><published>2008-05-28T15:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T10:18:49.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And you thought egg shells were fragile...</title><content type='html'>I am feeling a little fragile. I sent out a few feeler emails to friends in NYC. Most of whom I have been abominably shitty at keeping in contact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this was one of the replies I rec'd:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We were sad but we felt resolved about your absence from our lives since we in many ways gave you our honest love and friendship. We felt good about our lives crossing on this earth. We remember you mostly having tons of fun together.You tried to continue the friendship from the distance and then you got very depressed and I understand that. I don't understand J's inability to honor a friendship. I know that you attempted to offer a light into this but you rightly felt that it was not your position to excuse him or to explain him....... once he wrote a long and heartfelt email to both of us. We responded extensively and encouraged him to continue even if it was sporadically but he never wrote one single line again and that was a long time ago. When you constantly extended invitations to come and visit you in San Fran we often wonder how could we accept since J practically had stop talking to us? We did not think that coming to visit you would be appropriate. So what do you do? You respect people's choices and move forward in the best of ways. All that said seeing you would be wonderful. We have tons of things to catch up on I bet. But the weekend is jammed packed. Two shows, one concert, one Birthday BBQ and one wedding. I am doing K's flowers for the reception. Perhaps we can all have lunch near by S's office one day? Let me know if you would like to do this and we can select a date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't understand the source of these feelings this is giving me. I feel bad and stupid like I just got caught. I feel so unbelievably guilty. Guilty and ashamed.&lt;br /&gt;I guess because this was my heart family. I LOVE the person that wrote this. It seems so weird so unwarranted. Why take it to this level of drama? Yes, I personally feel crushed.&lt;br /&gt;Misdirected energy on my part, I guess. It is weird to be told a friendship is over that you were not aware could end. Let alone one that had ended a long time ago.&lt;br /&gt;The last four or so sentences would have been plenty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I just feel stupid for being so very very wrong. My ego is mortally wounded from the slightest of consternation. I don't think I can reply to this, I don't know what I could say. It would be foolish either way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friendship was not enough, it sort of solidifies and old idea that I was just the person you endured when you wanted to hang out w/ my husband. It seems to bring to a zenith my feelings of inadequacy. I bet I don't have loads of things to catch up on, I had a kid, I am a stay at home mom, I don't count. I am the one putting all these labels on myself and I am owning them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-8603387943606005848?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8603387943606005848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=8603387943606005848&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8603387943606005848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/8603387943606005848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/05/and-you-thought-egg-shells-were-fragile.html' title='And you thought egg shells were fragile...'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7207131947409754152</id><published>2008-05-28T14:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T10:15:10.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>rundown</title><content type='html'>So my in-laws were in town over the long weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good, j and I went and saw Indiana Jones. We went to a fabulous, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;spendy&lt;/span&gt; dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not So Good, the woman just drives me nuts, she knows exactly how to push my buttons. She literally drives me to the bottle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was very poorly behaved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MIL insisted on staying at the house while E napped, so j and I could run &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;errands&lt;/span&gt;. He got out of bed 2x for her and "i didn't have the heart to put him back." So E got no nap that day. Funny bit it was just that morning she was remarking that 'maybe he was ready to give us his nap.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ummm&lt;/span&gt;, let me see, no! He took a 3 hour nap the previous day. And he is a regular beast by 5:30pm if he doesn't nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think she was testing/ defying me. Because shit, what do I know? I am just his mother. He was a beast, J told me, "just go then", So I fucking went. I stormed out of their hotel, jumped a bus home, powered down 3 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Guinness&lt;/span&gt; and promptly felt ill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday, my birthday, big fat 32. Now, I don't own a scale, and I haven't been to a gym or doctors office recently, so purely judging by the fact that none of my fucking clothes fit me, even my "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;superfatpants&lt;/span&gt;" that I bought right after I had E - my go-to roomy pants are too small, I am the fattest I have ever been. I am pretty sure I weigh more now than I did when I delivered E. People keep asking me if I am pregnant. (2 women in 2 days but I simply can't get into it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we are going to be in NYC for a week. Am I crazy or does anyone want to come down and see us in the city. Megan, Maria, Francesca, I am looking at you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, 7:10am flight out of SF to NYC. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Every time&lt;/span&gt; j book the tickets, this is what happens. Guess what time our flight back to SF is? yup 7:10am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7207131947409754152?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7207131947409754152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7207131947409754152&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7207131947409754152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7207131947409754152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/05/rundown.html' title='rundown'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7428136365731683320</id><published>2008-05-14T14:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T15:21:18.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Live pest control</title><content type='html'>Internet-&lt;br /&gt;I have a confession (s) to make.&lt;br /&gt;1. I am the most impatient person in the world.&lt;br /&gt;2. Rules do not apply to me. mostly because I know better.&lt;br /&gt;3. I am cheap.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These caveats of my personality rallied into a catastrophic whirlwind of bad decisions, no right-minded person would chose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a little aphid problem in the garden. Nothing too major but starting to get destructive to my succulents.&lt;br /&gt;I went to the plant store to buy myself a fern.&lt;br /&gt;I have been spending time in Golden Gate Park - arguably the best places to bask in my love of ferns. While I was at the &lt;a href="http://www.plantitearth.com/"&gt;plant store&lt;/a&gt;. I inquires after and purchased some ladybugs - 1500 live ladybugs, in fact.&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't take a genius to figure out where this is heading...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I let E hold the bag all the way home. Today is the hottest it has been here in forever. As soon as the ladybugs came out of the freezer, they started kicking, they looked hungry. The instructions are to "release them in the cool of the evening." I wondered what would happen if we released 'just a few' into the afternoon heat to get to work on those aphids.&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I unstapled the mesh bag - the ladybugs stampeded. It was instant, they are not stupid, one of them sent out the run for freedom pheromone. Before long I, my hands were covered in ladybugs. As soon as I got the bag opened I realized I was in over my head and started trying to close it. They were everywhere. E was freaking out, on his tippy toes and shrieking about the scary ladybugs. Motu was alternately biting them and rolling in their eviscerated carcasses. I was trying to remain calm and failing. I hadn't thought anything through and I couldn't figure out what to do to contain the situation. So of course I yelled at E for asking me to open some crackers. Poor kid had to forage for food while I ran around with my fake calm voice trying to figure out how to contain the ladybugs. He realized lunch was not forth coming while I was in a ladybug panic.&lt;br /&gt;I can hear them bashing up against my door outside. They really went to town on those aphids. Frisky buggers them were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*1. I don't have a flying fuck of a clue what I am doing, so maybe I should slow down.&lt;br /&gt;2. I couldn't wait till tomorrow night to release the ladybugs, our babysitter is coming tonight. We are going to see Ironman. (am I the only one who only hears Ozzy Osborne whenever I see it written down?)&lt;br /&gt;3.I have about 300-500 ladybugs in my fridge right now, that's almost two bucks in there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time Check:&lt;br /&gt;Approximately 1 hours later there are like eight of them out there. I shouldha followed the directions I guess...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7428136365731683320?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='' href='http://www.amazon.com/Grouchy-Ladybug-Eric-Carle/dp/0064434508' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7428136365731683320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7428136365731683320&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7428136365731683320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7428136365731683320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/05/live-pest-control.html' title='Live pest control'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5434825213792323708</id><published>2008-05-13T13:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-13T13:45:58.709-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Email translation:</title><content type='html'>What I rec'd:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just checked my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;gmail&lt;/span&gt; and was VERY surprised!!!!! I haven't yet switched over from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bellsouth&lt;/span&gt; to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;gmail&lt;/span&gt; so I don't check it all the time. Wow, he's getting so big. I can't wait until the 23rd. Do you think he'll stay with us for a night at the 4 seasons? That is, if you'll let him come ?? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;TTFN&lt;/span&gt;,Love, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Gramma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I read:&lt;br /&gt;Why didn't you tell me you sent me photos of the my grandson? I hold you responsible that it has been over a week and I have not seen these photos. Also you sent it to the wrong email address, dummy.&lt;br /&gt;Can we save E from your dump of a house and show him how life is with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;gramma&lt;/span&gt; and carl at the four seasons? Where the faucets flow with chocolate milk and instead of dust bunnies you find M&amp;amp;M's under the bed. That is if you will stop being a selfish hateful bitch for more than 2 seconds in a row??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my reply, what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;I want&lt;/span&gt; to write,&lt;br /&gt;There will be no sleep overs. It would be way too confusing for him to try to sleep somewhere else for one night so you can play mommy and feed him nothing but chocolate. Since, as you know the only way he can love you is through bribery. Also we'll have to see where we are as far as potty training.  but all of these are excuses to say no. If one weekend took 1 1/2 weeks to undo. Then one night&lt;br /&gt;Also he is not a baby, where do you think he will sleep? He doesn't just stay put. I know your husband will not take kindly to being kept awake all night. Then where will you be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my reply, what I will write:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(if you can't say anything nice...)&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;Also someone asked me if I was expecting the other day. I am a house. Not the good kind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5434825213792323708?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5434825213792323708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5434825213792323708&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5434825213792323708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5434825213792323708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/05/email-translation.html' title='Email translation:'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-4621239413710067441</id><published>2008-05-05T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T18:44:41.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snails</title><content type='html'>E is a nature boy. His urban wilderness is compromised largely of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pigeons&lt;/span&gt; and snails. I am all for making the most of  it. We collected snails and put them in spaghetti sauce jars,  I poked air holes in the lid, we collected leaves for them to eat. Fast forward 5 hours later, he wanted to take them to his friend's house. I put the jar on top of the stroller, folded back the canopy and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;promptly&lt;/span&gt; forgot about it. We arrived, I picked up the stroller to get it up the stairs -whoops - the jar shatters on the sidewalk. I shoved E inside and grab a dustpan. It was a fucking snail holocaust. There were all decimated shells and chunks of glass jammed into their soft snail bodies. They were all like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;quivering&lt;/span&gt; and doing their tiny little death throws, shimmering with slime and glass.  One raised a last quivering tail/ head, pathetically &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;above&lt;/span&gt; the black matter of rotted leaves &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;et&lt;/span&gt; all. Five snails, numerous leaves in different stages of rot and digestion, makes for a funky, rot, stink.Also - I couldn't decide which refuse container I should put them in. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Compostable&lt;/span&gt; ? Well glass isn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;compostable&lt;/span&gt;. Recycling? Seems like I shouldn't throw organic material in with the recycling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-4621239413710067441?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4621239413710067441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=4621239413710067441&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4621239413710067441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4621239413710067441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/05/snails.html' title='Snails'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-5142944355774654150</id><published>2008-04-29T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T09:38:55.027-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is It All in the Name</title><content type='html'>OK I just realized that a lot of important women in my life name's start with M...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Momatron&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Mariah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also I need some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;assvice&lt;/span&gt; from some moms that have already toilet trained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we got some big boy underpants. (For reference, E has peed in the potty exactly 2 times. Jump the gun much?)&lt;br /&gt;E was really interested and so I put them on him. He wore them all through Toy Story yesterday and then we went for a walk and he peed in his pants. He felt the wet and was uncomfortable and asked to be changed. Today, when he woke up, he asked for them again. So on went the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;spider man&lt;/span&gt; undies. I am asking him like a broken record, Do you have to pee/ use the potty? (I am beginning to annoy myself w/ the constant questioning)&lt;br /&gt;The kid can really hold it. He has been in the undies for 2 hours now. (almost through toy story again.) He hasn't peed (in his pants or otherwise).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Never mind&lt;/span&gt;, I am not even sure what my question is, and he peed. I put a diaper back on him. What a relief! I am secretly anxious when he is in underpants. I have to really pay attention to him. THE HORROR.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-5142944355774654150?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5142944355774654150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=5142944355774654150&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5142944355774654150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/5142944355774654150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/04/is-it-all-in-name.html' title='Is It All in the Name'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1857124124153579070</id><published>2008-04-24T15:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T16:53:45.739-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guilt Incarnate</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SBEFj1AKMII/AAAAAAAAAC0/4SH5s3NfntM/s1600-h/April+15+003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SBEFj1AKMII/AAAAAAAAAC0/4SH5s3NfntM/s200/April+15+003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192937958416199810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SBEFkVAKMJI/AAAAAAAAAC8/Km8DlZb0u3k/s1600-h/April+15+004.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SBEFkVAKMJI/AAAAAAAAAC8/Km8DlZb0u3k/s200/April+15+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192937967006134418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SBEFlVAKMKI/AAAAAAAAADE/phE8Wwv1Ia8/s1600-h/April+15+007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SBEFlVAKMKI/AAAAAAAAADE/phE8Wwv1Ia8/s200/April+15+007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192937984186003618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1857124124153579070?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1857124124153579070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1857124124153579070&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1857124124153579070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1857124124153579070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/04/guilt-incarnate.html' title='Guilt Incarnate'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV-_Irdykpc/SBEFj1AKMII/AAAAAAAAAC0/4SH5s3NfntM/s72-c/April+15+003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-6572952025894055899</id><published>2008-04-24T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T15:07:30.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>your're eating a hard boiled egg? don't you mean chicken embryo ?(overheard on cellphone)</title><content type='html'>problem with the accessibility of  face book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;k- Hey T, wassup? Haven't seen you in a thousand years. Where ya been bitch?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;t- I have been staying close to home, I have multiple sclerosis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;k - Super lame dude, good luck with all that. laters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if I could just get &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jesus Christ Superstar&lt;/span&gt; out of my head...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-6572952025894055899?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6572952025894055899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=6572952025894055899&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6572952025894055899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/6572952025894055899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/04/chicken-embryo.html' title='your&apos;re eating a hard boiled egg? don&apos;t you mean chicken embryo ?(overheard on cellphone)'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3353700148776493818</id><published>2008-04-09T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T14:53:07.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ROAR!</title><content type='html'>Forgive me if you've heard this one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last time my MIL was here, was for E's birthday.&lt;br /&gt;We were painting a few weeks after she left and we made some cool hand prints and foot prints. I proudly displayed them all over the fridge. Jon came home and remarked on how cute they were and I should send one to his mom. Great idea right? I mean she was here and 'helped' us out and everything, sure. So I wrote on the back something like 'hi &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;gramma&lt;/span&gt;, thanks for coming out to play with me.' and sent it off.&lt;br /&gt;A few days later, I get a voicemail, because I CANNOT pick up the phone for this woman. 'Thanks for the masterpiece I love it...but...do you think next time you could put C's name on it? He was very hurt to not be included...'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may have overreacted. I cannot help but feel the sting from that voicemail, even now, months later. I didn't talk to her for 2 months. I need to add that she didn't know that I was not talking to her because a) she is too self-involved to notice b) i am a chicken-shit that will go to great lengths to avoid confrontation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after a long time, I let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I get a voicemail from MIL. 'hi it's C's (her husbands) birthday next weds, do you think you could make something for him and sent it from the baby? A hand print or a footprint or a drawing or something'&lt;br /&gt;I almost spiked my cellphone and yelled FUCK YOU into it. (i know, impressive)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am almost shaking with rage from it. I want to call her up and tell her that I am taking care of my baby and you need to take care of your own baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E doesn't know her husband. He hasn't seen him since &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;xmas&lt;/span&gt; 2006. I LOVE her husband. Please do not get me wrong, he is the best thing that ever happened to me. He takes up all the MIL attention because he is a needy, fancy doctor. I couldn't be happier. We wouldn't be in this house if it wasn't for him (and MIL and my parents).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon thinks I am 'acting ridiculous.' Any type of problem or concern comes up in my life and he wants to know 'if I have thought about going back on my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt;.'  I told him to do it then. He told me to just rip off the paper from his easel and send it. Am I being over sensitive? I cannot even put my finger on why I am so enraged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah life is 'harder' w/o the antidepressants. But what a relief to actually give a shit about stuff again. Life comfortably numb is not for me. Unless you are talking about self-medicating, then keep the vodka tonics flowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also watching my city get ripped apart by this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Olympic&lt;/span&gt; torch. I have many feelings about the whole thing but I busy getting ready for my favorite night of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; - Idol results show and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ANTM&lt;/span&gt; (wanna be on top?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3353700148776493818?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3353700148776493818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3353700148776493818&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3353700148776493818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3353700148776493818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/04/roar.html' title='ROAR!'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3461842179691775153</id><published>2008-04-04T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T14:29:49.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What It Does to Your Mind...</title><content type='html'>"Although we may pay lip service to the wonders of a new life much of the way our adult lives are organized seems to actively exclude children, and therefore also exclude any adult who has to be with those children. Hence working and social situations &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;outside&lt;/span&gt; of our homes are not 'user-friendly' towards children. "(Price p20)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just started reading the book the above quote came from, &lt;em&gt;Motherhood What It Does to You Mind.&lt;/em&gt; (Pandora, 1988)&lt;br /&gt;So far it seems to blame the alienation of mothers on society. Dr. Jane Price is British, so she is blaming British culture.&lt;br /&gt;She is a 'psychologist and psychotherapist who specialises in the psychology of women.' So says the back cover.&lt;br /&gt;So far I really like that she uses words like anger, resentment, guilt, anxiety, and jealousy as part of the complicated emotional &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;relationship&lt;/span&gt; between mother and child. I am not sure that I agree with her theories. What a relief it is to read a book that doesn't act like losing your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-baby identity is just another thing you are supposed to just grin and bear it. It is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;traumatic&lt;/span&gt;, it is painful. It is the most powerful thing I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;experienced&lt;/span&gt; in my lifetime. The expectations of the kind of parent I thought I would be vs reality is also a major death to mourn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to jot down a few ideas, I'll write a full review after I finish the whole book. There are lots of provoking ideas in the book.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3461842179691775153?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3461842179691775153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3461842179691775153&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3461842179691775153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3461842179691775153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/04/what-it-does-to-your-mind.html' title='What It Does to Your Mind...'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-4052599929362669257</id><published>2008-03-28T14:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T14:56:32.955-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cliche Alert</title><content type='html'>The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. -Lao-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tzu&lt;/span&gt;  (604 BC - 531 BC)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;WTF&lt;/span&gt;? I have a toddler, I am not permanently brain damaged. The world is still  my oyster. I think M did me a huge favor by giving me some "tough love." I have been wrestling with some major -ME- issues for the last couple of days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if it has something to do with the maternal instinct. Whatever is happening right now is &lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt; going to be. This part will &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; end. Then when it does, it is a happy surprise &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, in this moment, I am doing exactly what I want to do. I love my kid (duh). I want to be with him. I have accepted this time before &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-school is ours. It is finite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-4052599929362669257?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4052599929362669257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=4052599929362669257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4052599929362669257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4052599929362669257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/03/cliche-alert.html' title='Cliche Alert'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-426504373631484419</id><published>2008-03-25T14:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T15:18:08.391-07:00</updated><title type='text'>UGH</title><content type='html'>Today started shitty.&lt;br /&gt;Usually &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;jon&lt;/span&gt; gets up with E if he gets up before 7:30. Because, well, I am a fucking bitch. J will get him started with breakfast and then I come out and j gets in the shower.&lt;br /&gt;Today, E got animal crackers for breakfast. So of course when I tried to give him yogurt or bagel or non-ice cream food he rejected it. I was really mad at j for giving him cookies and e for waking up so early and me for always being too angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we go the &lt;a href="http://www.exploratorium.edu/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Exploratorium&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. It is Spring break and therefore a nightmare. E is crabby as hell. He keeps running away and not listening. I start losing my patience more and more and my reactions to E's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;running&lt;/span&gt; away becomes less and less respectable, more reactionary and hysterical and grabby &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; he runs away from me.&lt;br /&gt;We were there with our dear friends M and her son L.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My response to E crying and acting up is I just stand there and look at him. He is literally on the floor crying in the middle of this place and I am standing over him waiting for his tantrum to end. I know M finds this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;abhorrent&lt;/span&gt; and is always trying to comfort E as I grow increasingly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;stony&lt;/span&gt;. After the museum I am anxious to get home, however I don't say anything because I don't want to be an inconvenience. She is driving. I want to put E to bed and she wants to walk around ( her son doesn't nap anymore ) Admittedly, I was acting like a sullen child watching my own sullen child cry by the duck pond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M starts to talk to me and telling me I need to get some distance and some perspective. I need to put him in childcare and I need to try to find joy or purpose in my life. My giving in and reacting with anger to his typical 2 year old behavior is bad for everyone involved. She offered to talk to her childcare person for me, I told her I couldn't do that. M has her dream job, I said if I had work or something that I cared about maybe I wouldn't mind putting E in child-care. But to put him in childcare just to get away from it all and work at a coffee shop isn't something I can or want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Putting E in childcare will help him to share with other kids better and not to hit (he loves to hit L, 'cause guess where he learned it, (not that I blame L because it would have been another kid I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; love that taught him otherwise)) I was getting really angry at E for repeatedly hitting L at the museum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she said, well what is your dream job? What are your dreams? What do you want to be when you grow up?&lt;br /&gt;I started crying, like a lot, and very suddenly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause the reality of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-school is coming. I am supposed to hand my kid over to someone, pay them $89 per day, and go and find out what I am. (and pay for pre-school)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the reason I had a kid. I didn't know what I wanted to do.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what I love, I don't know what turns me on, what gets my blood boiling. I am so out of touch with my own needs and wants.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what my dreams are. I don't even know how to play a game like "what would your dream job be" as my mom is always trying to make me play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am scared. Everything feels like a cop-out. I am scared to admit or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;acknowledge&lt;/span&gt; my future is coming, am I going to miss it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't talk to j about any of this, his response is "go back on the anti-depressants." Dr Liza wanted me to treat my depression as a disease (if you had high blood pressure you would take your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;meds&lt;/span&gt; wouldn't you?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think I am just scared and lazy and have bad social anxiety. I can't blame it hormonal &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;fluctuation&lt;/span&gt; anymore. This is the real deal. I am fucked up. I am not PMS-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ing&lt;/span&gt;. I am supposed to be feeling good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The real deal is not pretty. That my son would probably be better off with someone else taking care of him. I don't feel like I can give my job away, i feel like it is the only thing defining me. God it is an ugly cycle. I have no "skills" per &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;se&lt;/span&gt;. I have to get a sitter to get a job and I have to have a job to get a sitter. I know I am using that as my ultimate excuse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wished for the Goblin King to come and take him away yesterday and I swear he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;disappeared&lt;/span&gt; for 5 seconds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God I can hardly stand my fucking self-involved, bourgeois, problems.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-426504373631484419?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/426504373631484419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=426504373631484419&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/426504373631484419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/426504373631484419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/03/ugh.html' title='UGH'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-4823320901948206518</id><published>2008-03-18T13:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T13:48:45.375-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do they have a name for this?</title><content type='html'>In the present I am very narrow. I rarely think past today. Sometimes when someone asks me what's for dinner before noon I panic. &lt;br /&gt;I am in the now. I think it is probably the place for all SAHM with a toddler. I think of our next meal and our next activity. The present is long. The present right now means, x hours till bedtime (seven but who's counting). The present seems like forever. E will always be a pain in my butt that doesn't listen to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made this big confession today to my friend M. &lt;br /&gt;"I don't like being a mom. There is so much ingratitude. I am starving for the 'good' parts of it."&lt;br /&gt;"The thing is, I am pretty sure you are going to look back at these days as the best of your life, it only goes downhill from here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even as the words were coming our of her mouth I knew it was true. I am mired in minutia of the present. Future kristen is going to laugh at past kristen like she always does, Hegelian twilight and all... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I live in the present terrified of the future. Of all the mistakes, the things we did and din't do - The regrets. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, quoting M again, Don't give your fear power. Once it has strength, it grows legs, and it is aweful hard to reel back in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-4823320901948206518?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4823320901948206518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=4823320901948206518&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4823320901948206518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/4823320901948206518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/03/do-they-have-name-for-this.html' title='Do they have a name for this?'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-842860171762016173</id><published>2008-02-27T12:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T13:15:10.392-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do I Really Sound Like That?</title><content type='html'>"Excuse Me Buddy" He says to the construction worker that is preventing his entrance to the playground.&lt;br /&gt;"Hi Big Girl" He says to the big girl with whom he does not want to share his truck.&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse Me Mama" When he blew bubbles in my face, like right in my eye, with saliva cause - You gotta blow that hard!&lt;br /&gt;"Happy Birthday" When I open the front door to him in our "Going on a trip game." &lt;br /&gt;"I love you"* After I told him to 'haveanicetriphavefuniloveyou.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was just today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am awaiting the eminent arrival of the MIL. Yeah by taking bong rips, How do you pass afternoon naps?&lt;br /&gt;She is staying for a week. J and I are going to the Russian River this weekend.* To sit in a hot tub among the redwoods and drink many fine wines. A little getaway. We rented a cottage. I could use a Rad time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*first time&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-842860171762016173?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/842860171762016173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=842860171762016173&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/842860171762016173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/842860171762016173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/02/do-i-really-sound-like-that.html' title='Do I Really Sound Like That?'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-7350357232373351505</id><published>2008-02-19T20:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:41:43.398-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ask Kristen</title><content type='html'>Is it barbaric to lock your child in their room?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh yeah I'm kidding...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-7350357232373351505?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7350357232373351505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=7350357232373351505&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7350357232373351505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/7350357232373351505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/02/ask-kristen.html' title='Ask Kristen'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3122586623450813765</id><published>2008-02-05T16:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T17:23:40.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>markers and milestones</title><content type='html'>So, last night our boy,for the first time, willfully and purposefully, peed in his potty. A prouder mother you have never seen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the flip side my little gently baby is gone. He has been replaced with a pushing, hitting monster. I know this is a phase and it will pass, but I am fraught with anxiety over it. He has been very mean with his best friend, pinching and hitting him. He wants to share nothing. I am literally afraid to take him to the park. He was just getting to the point where I could watch him from 20 feet away and let him explore and work things out. He would climb up the stairs of the play structure and go down the slide and the repetitious movement seemed to comfort all involved. Now - back to hovering. Because there is ZERO WARNING before a whirling dervish of slaps and hysteria and spitting is upon you. I never had to worry about him getting aggressive before, and all of the aggression was usually centered on me, I  can deal with that.  E ruefully shoved down a 21 mo old boy (who was bigger that him) and the mother was appalled, she shuffled up little Carter and said in a huffy, stage whisper "well, we are not going to play here any more." I could have just eaten my own head. I was practically falling all over the mother to apologize and make E apologize. So don't think I was encouraging E and giggling from the sidelines.  Major UGH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was our swim and gym class at the JCC. E was a pill. They were "filling the pool." So normally my favorite part of the week, sinking into the 85 degree pool was not there, it was cold in the pool. E wasn't having it.He was SOOOOOOO good last week, so good that I was bragging him up and down town. Today, cried and carried on, we were in our own little world of disobedience. No singing, no "blast offs" no "humpty-dumptys", just "that way, that way" and pointing to the shallow end of the pool -the part that our class was not in, the cold end. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were putting some kind of powder in the pool too. As a result, E got a little chemical burn on his face, my eyes are still stinging 6 hours later. &lt;br /&gt;Cold and chemically, Huzzah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3122586623450813765?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3122586623450813765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3122586623450813765&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3122586623450813765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3122586623450813765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/02/markers-and-milestones.html' title='markers and milestones'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-1548199904714560392</id><published>2008-01-29T17:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T17:18:42.820-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A+ #1 Mama</title><content type='html'>Well I taught the boy to use the word "please", unfortunately, while asking for frozen french fries, as in straight out of the freezer, frozen potatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have temporarily stopped talking to my MIL. I sent her some footprints E and I made with our finger (foot) paints. She calls me to 'thank me for the masterpiece. She just loves it, but, next time, do you think you could include her husband's name because he felt really left out.'  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, next time, I will get right on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toy Story 2 is actually a pretty good movie. Especially when you have seen it seven times in 3 days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-1548199904714560392?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1548199904714560392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=1548199904714560392&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1548199904714560392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/1548199904714560392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/01/1-mama.html' title='A+ #1 Mama'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-152732347116154810</id><published>2008-01-22T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T16:52:25.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Alone at Last</title><content type='html'>We have had my family in my house for the last two weeks. My brothers were here and then my parents were here. For two weeks, we have had guests. I know there are people out there that are really good at having house guests. I am not one of those people. I cannot wait for people to leave, Even if you are someone I love dearly as I do my parents and brothers. This doesn't work out great when you are spread out and your family lives on the other side of the country. So you only see them in short, intense amounts of time. Makes for interesting interactions.&lt;br /&gt;Especially, when you are trying to live life without anti-depressants. I feel a little raw still. My dad told me he didn't think I could handle another baby (just so I was clear), and my mom told me to go back on the Zoloft. So you know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was fine, but I require my alone time. I have not had it. I am very glad to have it back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E and I signed up for swim and gym class. We have gone 3 times now. The first time E got his finger pinched in a locker. It removed the entire baby finger pad, It was such a deep rip and he was all pruney from the pool. Thank heavens my friend was there to save the day and help me find a plaster. The second time he was jumping in the shower and he fell and slammed his head so hard on the floor, I think I saw his eyeballs bounce. Today he lost the fingernail that was damaged in the first accident. He also poured water up my nose and jumped in and went under water. It has been pretty fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hanging baby finger nail is making me swoon everytime I think/see/hear/read of it. I have always been a pussy with blood and wounds. I hoped it would get better after watching E get so injured so many times. I always feel like I am &lt;em&gt;just barely&lt;/em&gt; handling it. Such is the metaphore of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-152732347116154810?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/152732347116154810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=152732347116154810&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/152732347116154810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/152732347116154810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/01/alone-at-last.html' title='Alone at Last'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-2922238365566635692</id><published>2008-01-03T14:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T15:03:08.517-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cry me a river'/><title type='text'>Housework</title><content type='html'>Last night Jon and I saw Juno. It was very good and I recommend it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dinner $60&lt;br /&gt;Beers in "balcony bar" $13&lt;br /&gt;Movies $24&lt;br /&gt;Transportation $3&lt;br /&gt;Babysitter $75&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was it worth it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we were drinking our beers I kinda picked a fight with jon. I feel very angry at him. &lt;br /&gt;He drinks way too much. Not that he gets drunk until after the kids asleep, but he always has a beverage in his hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He really doesn't contribute around the house at all. I mean I feel retarded admiting how pissed off I am about house work. Granted he does all of our cooking. I do the majority of the E's cooking. But he leaves dirty dishes on the counter on top of the dishwasher. He doesn't do anything unless you tell him to, and then he acts insulted. &lt;em&gt;But, I picked up the E's toys yesterday.&lt;/em&gt; I ask him repeatedly to take out the recycling/trash, then I have to do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is stupid petty shit I am complaining about. Is it because I am off the Zoloft? I am angry, like, a lot. I literally just chased my cat down the hall because it was meowing too much. Wait a second, look at the date? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevermind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate hormones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I so angry because I am off Zoloft of PMSing to beat the band? Tune in later for the exciting conclusion...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-2922238365566635692?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2922238365566635692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=2922238365566635692&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2922238365566635692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/2922238365566635692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/01/housework.html' title='Housework'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8238972.post-3844054249073856913</id><published>2008-01-02T14:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T15:01:28.761-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anniversary'/><title type='text'>Happy Anniversary to Us</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2047/2159137513_5705ccfd7b_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2047/2159137513_5705ccfd7b_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2345/2159938344_30a4194000_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2345/2159938344_30a4194000_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2129/2159137553_56728db265_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2129/2159137553_56728db265_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five years ago today - Jon and I were took a white, beat-up, stinky limo from the Luxor Hotel to the Hollywood Chapel of Love and eloped, Vegas Style. Quietly - alone but together - just like we have done everything else. &lt;br /&gt;We got married at noon (?) and by 6pm we were totally passed-out, trashed, but by 1 am we were at a shake joint. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jon had a molestache then too, his alias was Larz Vagas while we were "honeymooning."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8238972-3844054249073856913?l=kristensrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3844054249073856913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8238972&amp;postID=3844054249073856913&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3844054249073856913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8238972/posts/default/3844054249073856913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristensrant.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-anniversary-to-us.html' title='Happy Anniversary to Us'/><author><name>kristenL</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
