<?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-3640309585339726878</id><updated>2011-10-01T06:37:55.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kooky Kissingers</title><subtitle type='html'>Life is all about change.  It's not always fun, but it makes us stronger.  My life is still Kooky, I'm still a Kissinger.  My kids are still krazy.  I wouldn't want it any other way.  We are making our way as a single mother, an 8 year old drama queen, and twin 4 year old men.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-4351781194920886056</id><published>2011-07-20T20:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T20:51:59.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>healing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Dear Authentic Girl,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your heart will mend, it will. It always always will, no matter how many times it has been broken. Sometimes our hearts have to be broken to be made into something newer, stronger, and wiser. Sometimes the cracks that a broken heart makes and leaves are the very portals to the greatest light and love and learning that we will ever experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having our hearts broken is a part of life. It just is. Anyone who lives and loves with all of their heart, or even with parts of their heart, is destined to experience the breaking of that heart at one time or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be with those feelings. Don't rush the healing time. Let it go at its own pace and certainly don't shove those feelings into some faux hiding place, believing that what is out of sight is out of mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broken hearts have a lot to say, and the more patient you are to listen, the faster your heart will heal. Listen to what your broken heart is saying about how it wants life to be in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be patient and gentle with yourself. No rushing. Rushing a broken heart is a bit unkind and impatient. You don't want to treat yourself that way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are so loved. You are so wise and wonderful and amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are healing right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xoxo&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how something so random can speak to you at the exact moment you need to hear it.  I received this email as a part of a Brave Girls Club newsletter that I subscribe to.  It came to me in May of this year.  It made me cry... I have said before that having your heart broken for the first time at 34 is really hard...really really REALLY hard! These words hit me like a hammer, they were being nailed to my heart, helping to repair the cracks and the broken pieces of a love that I had held so dear.  It became clear to me that this was part of God's plan.  I realized that God was making my divorce take for.ev.er. for a reason.  I needed to start the healing process before it was over, and my healing process took a very long time to start.  I grieved for my marriage...I still do...but my grief had a very long road to travel. Up and down, back and forth, around and around and around.  God knew that if my divorce was rushed that I wouldn't be able to cope with the sheer magnitude of all that was going on in my life.  It happened in His time...18 months time.  I realize that that may not be long as far as some divorces go, but it felt like an eternity to me.  But I needed that eternity to get myself and my heart prepared for the next step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is in a good place right now.  Quite peaceful and abundantly thankful.  God has surrounded me with the greatest people on the earth.  Amazing family, true friends, and those three little souls that make every day worth living.  I am trying to wait patiently for God's plan for my new life to unfold.  Patient waiting has never been one of my strong points...  what keeps me going is knowing that I am not in control and that God is not troubled or worried about where my life is going.  He is holding the directions.  I couldn't have asked for a better navigator.  I am happy, my children are happy, I have a home, a job, a future...I can't say it enough...I am blessed!!!  I look back now to the point at the beginning of this journey where I thought that I had used up all of my blessings and that God was angry with me for not being good enough.  What a desperate place. I am so thankful to have made it through that agonizing time. My pastor, my counselor, my family and my friends all knew better and helped me to realize that my blessings were just beginning.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart may have been broken, but it is healing nicely.  There will be a nasty, ugly scar for sure, but that will fade with time and it will make my heart that much stronger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-4351781194920886056?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/4351781194920886056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=4351781194920886056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4351781194920886056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4351781194920886056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2011/07/healing.html' title='healing...'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-2161806929211849174</id><published>2011-03-20T20:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T21:04:39.645-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring</title><content type='html'>Ahhh...the first day of spring.  I have always loved this day.  It brings hope for so many things...beauty, warmth, new life, no more snow.  It's no wonder why I chose this day to be the day that I married the man that I wanted to share the rest of my life with. Our new life together began 12 years ago today on the 1st day of spring 1999.  It was a beautiful day, much like today actually.  A bit chillier, but still bright and sunny.  A day filled with happiness and love. It was such a great feeling to be surrounded by so many people that loved us and celebrated us.  It is still so baffling to me that it has all ended.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, it has and I have to move forward. Unfortunately for me I have two wonderful little souls that make it very hard.  Those boys are so gosh darn sweet, most days I can hardly stand it!  They love me and are never shy about telling me so.  I hope that never changes!  The only problem is they also say the most difficult things to hear...they keep asking me when I'm going to marry daddy again, or they start planning adventures for when daddy and I get married again, and why don't I just live with daddy and how I should just go to daddy's and give him a kiss so it will all be better.  Those words are like little daggers to my heart!  They are so innocent and so young.  I wish that I could just take this all away from them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My poor Ellie is just as innocent.  She asks even tougher questions.  "Hey Mom...are you and dad divorced yet?" and when I reply "No, not yet.", she is all "Oh good, then there is still time for you to get back together, right?"  Then I get to break her heart and quash her hope when I tell her there is no time to stop this.  They do not say these things to or ask these questions of their father.  So totally unfair!!  I don't think that he could answer them or deal with them in a way that his 4 year old sons and 8 year old daughter would understand.  He can't answer them in a way that makes me understand either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he brought the kids home this afternoon, I looked for the man that I met 14yrs ago...the man that fathered our 3 beautiful children...the man that taught and showed me what true love was...the man that gave me a marriage that I cherished for 10 and 11/12th's years...  I didn't see that man today.  I will probably never see him again.  That is really hard...it's not that I haven't tried to find him, it's hard because I don't think that he wants to be found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twelve years ago, I would have never imagined that I'd be in the place I am now.  Thankfully, I am not alone.  God knows that I took my vows to heart and that I have stayed true to them.  He will continue to stand beside me.  Today, His love is what I need and it is so amazing to know that He will never falter or leave.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had a really hard time the past week or so listening to our local Christian radio station.  They have been talking a lot about the Weekend to Remember conference that is coming up.  I've had to change the channel b/c it makes me so angry at K.  We were supposed to go to that conference last year.  We were separated, but I had been hearing about it on the radio and really started to look into it.  I really felt that God wanted us to attend that conference.  Apparently, my mother in law felt the same way.  I had been seriously contemplating it and then K was actually the one that brought it up.  His mom had been talking about it with him quite a bit and had convinced him to give it a chance.  We were all set to go, but a week before the conference, he had a really, really contrived excuse as to why he couldn't go.  I was crushed.  The topics of that weekend were meant for us to hear.  I couldn't force him to go...just like I couldn't force him to counselling or force him to look me in the eye and tell me why he was doing all of this.  He didn't want to do any of these things, so he simply didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say that this anniversary was much easier than last year.  Last year I still had hope, so I was grieving for the uncertainty that that hope brought.  This year is more of just another day.  That makes me sad on a day that used to bring so much happiness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-2161806929211849174?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/2161806929211849174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=2161806929211849174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2161806929211849174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2161806929211849174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2011/03/spring.html' title='Spring'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-5427650460003055127</id><published>2011-02-08T18:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T18:34:18.001-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...One Year...</title><content type='html'>I have waited and dreaded this day for a long, long time.  February 6. Two days after Nate and Zak's 3rd birthday...three days after my 34th. It feels like forever and yesterday at the same time.  I remember the events that led up to the argument that ended in his telling me that I needed to take the kids and leave. I remember getting in the car and driving away with no idea where I was going and feeling more fear then I have ever felt before.  I was crying and Ella said to me "It's okay to cry Mom.  I cry sometimes too and I will be here for you."  My sweet, innocent child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My in-law's were in Maui, so we stayed there for the night.  We came home the next day to a man that none of us knew.  Cold, hard, unfeeling, absolutely no affect.  I remember that I sat that  in the farthest left hand corner of the couch, while my sister-in-law sat in "my" chair and he in his.  Our children were playing quietly upstairs when he told me that he hadn't loved me for 5 years and possibly never at all.  He "may" have gotten married out of convenience.  I died, but I was still living....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember my sister called my mom.  She came and I remember telling her that I was going to die.  The pain that I felt was immeasurable.  I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't feel anything but pain.  My heart was literally broken.  I couldn't take care of my kids.  My mom took the boys home with her, but Ella had to stay with me so she could go to school.  It kills me that my 7 yr old witnessed her mother fall apart.  I regret not being strong enough to shield her from the heartache and pain.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the night that I called out to Jesus.  What had I done to deserve this?  How could this be happening to me? To us?  What could I do to make him love me again?  Why Lord?  Why?  I was a sinner for sure, but I loved my husband and our family more than anything...how could God hate me so much that He would take them away from me?  It was that night that I did the scariest thing in my life...I gave my marriage to God.  That was the night that I felt a peace in my broken heart that could have been put there only by the Grace of my Father.  I have kept that peace throughout this past year.  Sure there have been periods of fear, doubt, anger and uncertainty, but through all of those feelings, the peace has remained...God has remained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christ showed me that I was not the cause of this situation.  There was nothing that I could have done to prevent it and there was nothing that I could do to change the outcome.  K was set on divorce and by golly, he was going to get a divorce, no matter the price.  It was a miraculous thing for my husband to finally be free of us...his back no longer hurt, he was able to get a good nights sleep, ahhhh...the freedom and the peace and the quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love for K never wavered. I prayed for God to take my love for him away.  It hurt so much to love a man, the man that taught and showed me what true love was, and know that he no longer loved me.  Having your heart broken for the first time at age 34 is unreal and unimaginable.  He admitted that he said a lot things in the beginning to hurt me. He is not the man that I married almost 12 years ago.  There were many lies and tales told to me, I think b/c he wanted me to file, so that he wouldn't look like the bad guy.  Unfortunately for him, I took my vows seriously and did everything in my power to save our marriage.  I'm stubborn like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can finally say that God is healing my heart...  I still feel pain.  I still have uncertainty.  I still cry.  But there is so much good in my life that those feelings are now in the minority. God is slowly taking my love away.  Before, all I saw and thought of were the good qualities that my husband possessed.  All of the wonderful times that we had together and with our children.  All of the horrible things that he was putting us through were nothing compared to what we could have had together.  Finally...FINALLY I am seeing with not only my eyes, but also with my heart, that we are better off without him.  It is an amazing sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God has a plan for my children and me.  I pray that I am able to follow the path He is guiding me to.  I pray that I am able to do His will.  I don't know where my life is headed, but I do know that it will be blessed.  My children are so happy here.  They are thriving.  They are learning.  They are loved.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so happy to say that the friends that were with me at the beginning of this ordeal are still with me today.  They are true and godly and amazing.  My family is simply the best.  God's hands have carried me through this year, but these wonderful people have stayed by my side and have held me tight, even when they wanted to shake me and open my eyes to what they were seeing.  They allowed me to come to that realization on my own.  Patient, patient souls. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year was hands down the most difficult of my life.  I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't experienced it.  We made it.  We survived. WE ARE ALIVE!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Praise the Lord!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-5427650460003055127?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/5427650460003055127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=5427650460003055127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/5427650460003055127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/5427650460003055127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2011/02/one-year.html' title='...One Year...'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-1288286426192166644</id><published>2011-01-03T19:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T20:13:46.308-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear 2010,</title><content type='html'>You were an awful year in so many, many ways.  There were lots of times that I wished that you never were.  A few times when I wished that I never was either.  You brought a lot of bad things with you 2010...pain, anguish, fear, doubt, uncertainty, loss, the end of my marriage and family...  Plain and simply put, You Suck 2010!!! You suck suck suck!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;BUT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You also brought so much good in spite of all that suck.  I learned so much from you.  2010, you taught me that I literally have the strength to move mountains.  The strength to stand on these two feet, when all I wanted to do was lay down and cry (or something much worse that rhymes with cry).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I discovered that I am abundantly blessed in the friend department.  I mean seriously, fabulously, crazy blessed.  I have been truly amazed by the outpouring of love and kindness that my children and I have received during your reign 2010.  A.M.A.Z.E.D. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2010, you showed me that what I have always believed about my family was positively true.  My children, my parents, my sister, my aunts and uncles and my cousins have given me unending, unbelievable, unprecidented love, support, and loyalty. (Even a few of my married-into-family!!)  They will probably never know the extent of the impact that their actions have had on my kids and me.  We would not be where we are without them...each and every single one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, I despise what you have put my children thru and I may never forgive you for that.  I know that it isn't really your fault, 2010, but it was still really rotten.  I am happy to say that E, N and Z have worn you quite well....so much better than myself.  You showed them that they are the most important people on earth to me and that I will do whatever it takes to love them and to provide for them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the best thing that you gave me 2010, was you renewed my relationship with God. I have loved my Lord for so many years, but I did not seek Him as I should have for quite some time.  February 6, 2010 was the day that I came to Him, broken in a million pieces and He picked me up and started, piece by tiny piece, to put me back together. It has been a hard road.  A hard, rocky, winding, back tracking, uphill, blind, high road.  I am so beyond thankful that God is carrying my map and He is the One guiding me.  I am no longer scared.  I don't doubt.  I know that I have a long way to go to be healed...I know that I will never be completely healed, but I know that Christ has a plan for me and it doesn't involve intentional heartache and pain.  He has provided us with more blessings than I could have ever imagined. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as much as it pains me to say, Thank You 2010.  Thank you for not being a complete waste of time...thank you for growing me into the strong, independent person that I am today.  I am a better mom because of you.  I am a better ME because of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kara&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  2011, You don't have to reach very high to out do 2010.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;BUT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...I have big plans for you, so you'd better get yourself together and get ready...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-1288286426192166644?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/1288286426192166644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=1288286426192166644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/1288286426192166644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/1288286426192166644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2011/01/dear-2010.html' title='Dear 2010,'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-7603281818404903425</id><published>2010-09-02T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T20:41:35.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A new sound.</title><content type='html'>I heard something new tonight....something beautiful and something that I have been longing to hear for quite some time.  It was the sound of &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;normalcy&lt;/span&gt;.  It was perfection to my ears and my heart.  It was a gorgeous night here in NE and after supper Zak and I went out in the backyard.  I with my book and he with his scooter.  Pretty soon Nater came out with Fletchy dog. A couple of great rounds of fetch with the tennis ball ensued.  A few minutes later, Ellie showed up....and there it was...our little family. Our new normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The children played (together! nicely!!), I sat on the swing and read my book (hooray!), Fletchy chewed on a bone (like any good dog would), the sound of other children playing outside filtered in, a lawn mower, some light traffic....all so completely...complete.  I thought...if only K were here to witness this perfection. But he is not, nor would he likely ever be.  This is his busy time of the year (16hrs days as opposed to 12-14hr days).  Even if we were home and together, he would still miss out on this amazing time of family.  My heart aches for that, for him.  I can not imagine missing this time in our children's lives.  They are so so precious and fragile and innocent and smart and funny and and and...  I could go on for days about these souls that we created.   That God created.  I am beyond blessed to be a part of their lives here and wish that their earthly father could/would share in the everyday with them.  I am trying not to focus on him though...it is not my loss, but his.  His incredibly huge, important, significant loss.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many days that I despise my situation.  Then there are days that I am thankful and that is when the guilt sets in.  We lived a very good life. But now we are "living" so much more.  Living without the fear of his disappointment for being late or the dread of asking permission to do something out of his comfort zone.  My husband is not a dictator, by any means, but he likes rigidity and does not like it when things do not go as planned.  Three young children does not a rigid schedule make....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I miss him.  I miss my partner.  I miss being able to take 15 minutes for myself if I need to.  I miss discussing the day to day nothings with my love.  I miss just being in his presence...we felt safe there. We felt secure there.  We felt grounded there.  We also felt a bit stifled and under a thumb there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here... We feel freedom.  We feel fortunate.  We feel blessed.  We feel normal.  We feel at home.  How can that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; be a good thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have this outstanding tree in our backyard.  My parents hung a swing in it and the kids get so much joy out of it.  The boys run and belly into the swing and fly around, running on air.  Ella wants to build a tree house in the tree.  It would be really cool.  Tonight she was standing on the swing in the tree and said "Mom, can you please buy this house?  I just love it here."  Music to my ears.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TIBprXqwZ0I/AAAAAAAAALk/gd1kobyIsbI/s1600/DSC05552+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TIBprXqwZ0I/AAAAAAAAALk/gd1kobyIsbI/s320/DSC05552+copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512522137710126914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our family....captured by emy.dear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-7603281818404903425?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/7603281818404903425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=7603281818404903425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/7603281818404903425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/7603281818404903425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/09/new-sound.html' title='A new sound.'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TIBprXqwZ0I/AAAAAAAAALk/gd1kobyIsbI/s72-c/DSC05552+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-3004848575525645400</id><published>2010-08-15T18:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T20:24:15.925-07:00</updated><title type='text'>41 and counting</title><content type='html'>My parents celebrated their 41st wedding anniversary on August 2.  Wow.  That is a freaky long time.  Their story began waaaaay back in 1968 at the Sunken Garden....a girl meets up with a boy and they search for a frog...what they found was love.  They met on a blind date, were engaged 5 weeks later and were married 11 months after their first meeting. No sense in wasting time when it's right...that is so crazy and sweet and kinda scary.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that my parents would be the first to say that the past 41 years hasn't all been roses and bubbles and glittery good times.  They have had their share of problems and hard times.  My sister and I (but especially my sister!) were not the easiest children to raise. Even with the difficult hand that we dealt them, they did a fabulous job.  Bubba and I are fairly well adjusted, successful, crazy cool kids.  And as much as B and I hate to admit it...we have become our parents. Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and Dad have supported each other thru so much.  Job and career changes and stress, illness, children, grandchildren, home renovation, pets, their own parents....LIFE.  Amazing they supported each other and dealt with life.  I have to say...they don't make things like they used to.  41 years ago, marriages were built to last.  They were made to withstand the wear and tear of every day use.  every.single.day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sad that I may never have a 41st anniversary...or a 12th or even another 1st.  I am also angry.  I guess that K and I didn't read the same instruction manual when we got married.  I have to say that I think that the manual evolves as the marriage evolves.  I feel that I kept my manual current, but K's may have last been updated back when wives actually did "obey" and "submit" to their husbands.  I hate that I was not able to be that wife for him, but I just can not obey rules that I don't feel are good or fair or followed by everyone.  Unfortunately, being the rule breaker that I am hasn't earned me a trip to the principal's office and detention...it's a been a trip to the lawyer and a date with a judge. ugh. double ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank my parents for keeping their manuals up to date.  They love each other almost always...there are still days when they anger and annoy each other to no end, but their anger and annoyance does end and their love &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ALWAYS&lt;/span&gt; finds its way back home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in 1968 my mom went in search of a frog for her roommate and what she found was her prince...my dad.  I love you guys.  I pray that you have many, many, many more anniversaries to celebrate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-3004848575525645400?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/3004848575525645400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=3004848575525645400' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3004848575525645400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3004848575525645400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/08/41-and-counting.html' title='41 and counting'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-3974357175066134848</id><published>2010-07-29T20:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T22:17:35.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my boys.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJNsRIQ-wI/AAAAAAAAAKk/RZ7Zt2-07fM/s1600/DSC05542.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJNsRIQ-wI/AAAAAAAAAKk/RZ7Zt2-07fM/s320/DSC05542.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499543517880449794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJNsPWipRI/AAAAAAAAAKc/uvWOuZ28ek8/s1600/DSC05536.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJNsPWipRI/AAAAAAAAAKc/uvWOuZ28ek8/s320/DSC05536.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499543517403456786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my....I love these boys. I simply can not imagine my life without these hooligans. When I was carrying them in my womb, I questioned God almost daily if He really knew what He was doing. He has a lot more faith in my abilities as a mother than I do. Being their mom is the hardest job I've ever had. Ellie was and is so much easier to understand...she's a &lt;em&gt;girl&lt;/em&gt; and I'm a &lt;em&gt;girl&lt;/em&gt; and that's pretty much it. The boys are &lt;em&gt;boys&lt;/em&gt; and I'm a &lt;em&gt;girl&lt;/em&gt; and I pretty much don't know anything about them. Boys are different than girls...a duh!...but seriously...SO DIFFERENT!! They make every day an adventure and some days I wish that I could just be an observer and not a partaker in their adventure....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two of them. TWO...always...forever!! Hooray!! The above pictures (taken my our sweet Emy,dear) capture each boy in his strongest personality. People always ask about how different their personalities are. They are really quite similar, it all just depends on the day, hour, minute to be exact. Nate has always been the more laid back guy and Zak has always been a bit more, let's just say, demanding. Funny how they got the personality of the parent that they most resemble!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These past months have been hard on these angels. I am so thankful that they are only 3. But even at "only 3", they have seen and heard much more than their little minds can comprehend. They are so protective of me and of Ella. They don't like to be away from either of us. While that makes me feel so very loved and special, it makes going to work (or any where else alone, for that matter) very difficult. They know exactly how to play me and I hoping that the many, many Dr. Dobson books that my mom is touting, help me to become the "Boss of Them". I definitely was NOT the disciplinarian of the family. That's coming back to bite my in the tush-tush. Yay me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray for them a lot. I pray that I don't screw them up. I pray that they grow up to be men of faith. I pray that go to bed without a hassle every night. I pray that they stop peeing their pants...in the bathroom...in front of the toilet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These kooky kids say the funniest stuff. Today Zak and Nate "helped" me clean the basement. Afterward, Nater and I were sitting on the couch and Zak was standing by the coffee table with something that he was going to roll. He said, "Hey, Nate. Come here. I need another "man" for my game." Ha!! My men. Nathan just says really profound stuff like..."Mom, I jus pee in my pants in the bathroom in front of the toilet." and the likes of that. Mostly, they just say cute stuff like, "You da best momma" and "I lubs yas so much" and "You are so smart and skinny and funny and smokin hot mom." Seriously. They say all that stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am doing the best that I can. The other day I told Zak that I loved him and he, in turn, said that he, too, loved me. I then asked him if he knew what "Love" was. His answer...."God." Wow. I think I am doing a good job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJdoDwuyPI/AAAAAAAAAK0/krQCbjCIg2c/s1600/DSC05547.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJdoDwuyPI/AAAAAAAAAK0/krQCbjCIg2c/s320/DSC05547.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499561037758646514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJdnl2w-ZI/AAAAAAAAAKs/XLThvcM6VCo/s1600/DSC05549.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJdnl2w-ZI/AAAAAAAAAKs/XLThvcM6VCo/s320/DSC05549.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499561029730892178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-3974357175066134848?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/3974357175066134848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=3974357175066134848' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3974357175066134848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3974357175066134848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-boys.html' title='my boys.'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFJNsRIQ-wI/AAAAAAAAAKk/RZ7Zt2-07fM/s72-c/DSC05542.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-3609060805771825797</id><published>2010-07-12T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T20:47:37.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'>be still my heart</title><content type='html'>Nathan and I had a conversation several weeks ago that I have been meaning to write about.  It went something along the lines of this....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate: &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Momma, I just lubs ya so much. You my best frien.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;strong&gt;I love you too, Nathan.  You're my best Nate.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the conversation could have ended here and my heart would have been full and right for a long time...but it continued&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate: &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I just lubs my kitty cat blanket and I just lubs that chair....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and here I thought that I was special...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate: &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;an I lubs this truck and this book...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then it happened...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate: &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;and I just lubs yer blue eyes Momma. Dey blue like my flib flops.  Dey are bootiful.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;strong&gt;(speechless....)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have you ever heard more poetic words in your life?  I am smitten with that boy.  he sure has a way with words.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-3609060805771825797?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/3609060805771825797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=3609060805771825797' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3609060805771825797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3609060805771825797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/07/be-still-my-heart.html' title='be still my heart'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-8667904382258784812</id><published>2010-06-20T20:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T22:31:30.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>untitled</title><content type='html'>I have been struggling with a title for this post... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ode to the man I love? loved? am supposed to love? &lt;br /&gt;A statement to the man that I am still married to?&lt;br /&gt;An open letter to the guy that I thought was my one and only?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chose not to go with an "Ode to..." well because I think that an ode to someone is an honor. I looked it up...it is an honor. Soooo, probably not what I am going for. The other's, well, they just seemed a bit long. Untitled it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love is changing. That makes me feel so many things. Not all of them pleasant. It makes me sad. We have been in this predicament for just over 4 months...most days it seems like for ever, some moments still feel like yesterday. In that 4 months we have reconciled once for about 78 minutes, counseled together once with our pastor and twice with my therapist, had many deep conversations, I have moved myself and our children twice, I have gotten a job, I have been in therapy once a week, I have found new daycare for our children, I have been learning about the speed of our legal system, I have prayed a million prayers and wept even more tears, I have hugged and comforted our children and tried to explain things that I don't understand myself, and I have felt the indescribable love of my Father, my family and my friends. I don't know what is going on in my husband's life, so I can not comment on it, other than to say....from the outside, I don't think that it has changed much and now that he has delivered our Fletchy dog to us, he only has himself to take care of. I am trying so hard not to judge. SO HARD...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The opening line of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem &lt;em&gt;How Do I Love Thee?&lt;/em&gt; is "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." I loved K with my everything. It brings me to tears now to think that I could have been so blind, stupid, naive, clueless, wrong, desperate.....gee let me count the ways I can put myself down!... I never, ever questioned my love for him because I never questioned his love for me. I don't understand. Plain and simple...I DON'T UNDERSTAND!!! The logic in me is running around with her head cut off...but my heart and the rest of my mind believe that I am not suppose to understand and that I may never truly "get" why this happened to me. My therapist (remember, I'm the one that's messed up and needs weekly talks with professionals) agrees that I am not supposed to understand because if I understood, then I would be thinking like him and that's probably not the best thing. I am thinking that all of this crappy craziness has a purpose...I pray that it's sole purpose is not that when people think that their life sucks, someone says "Hey...you think you got it bad? At least you're not Kara K...that girl has a freaking mess on her hands!" I don't like to win the suckiest life contest. I hope that it's more of a "That Kara K, man, she had it REALLY bad for a while, but look at how she has come thru it. Her head held high, her faith unhidden, her children loved to the moon and back, surrounded by so MANY amazing friends and family. She really took something crappy and made a wonderful life and testimony out of it." Admiration is not something that I am looking for here. I don't think that it is necessarily admirable to do something that has to be done. People have often said that they admire me for how well I do with the twins and E in church, at the museum, park etc. but I am simply being their mother. Taking care of my children is my job. I feel silly when they say that because if they knew what was going on in my head, it sure wouldn't be admiration that they were feeling!! They'd probably be calling CPS on me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops...this is supposed to be about my husband and my "love" for him... I wonder if he can feel my love leaving him? I couldn't feel his leaving me, but when it was gone, it.was.gone. I could feel that and I pray that no one ever has to feel that too. I wonder how it will feel for him. He's had this power over me for so long...I actually asked him one night what it felt like to own someone. He didn't really get the question...but that is what I have felt like...I was owned by him. I would have done anything in this world to make &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt; happy. Anything. I would have given up everything and everyone for &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;. I am quite embarrassed to admit that. How pathetic it sounds. I am starting to take that power away from him. That feels good. I can tell you that throughout this whole ordeal, I don't think that I have raised my voice in anger to him once. I have been too afraid of the consequences. My anger is coming...my therapist calls it "positive anger"...not the "I'm going to get revenge on you if it's the last thing I do" anger, but the "You kinda suck, and you really don't deserve me because I rock" anger. I'm not really the revenge kind of girl....I guess he should be thankful for that! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think about him less and less each week. He doesn't consume my days or my nights. (I thank Tylenol PM for that!) It's not hard to speak lovingly about him to our children. He is their father and they love him and I will never tread on that. I am starting to be able to make light of my situation. I am sarcastic and snarky and I think that people would worry if I was a serious mess all the time....I would worry if I was a serious fun hater all the time. Life is about LIVING and I plan to live mine to it's full potential...because I can. So there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if it will be a sad or happy day the day that I don't think of him at all. I know that that won't be any time soon. I still pray for him. I want him to have a good life. I want him in our children's lives. I'm gonna be honest when I say that I really don't want him to ever fall in love again....not because I hate him or want him to be miserable, but because I don't ever want him or some other woman to go thru this again. I don't think that he is going to do the work to make the changes he needs to make and that doesn't make for a healthy, happy, strong relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life goes on. The world will never stop spinning. I have accepted that. It was a hard journey to that word...acceptance. Wow. Do you know what happens after acceptance? Moving forward. It's a daunting task, but I think that I'm up to the challenge. I &lt;em&gt;want &lt;/em&gt;to be the loser of the suckiest life contest....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-8667904382258784812?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/8667904382258784812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=8667904382258784812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8667904382258784812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8667904382258784812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/06/untitled.html' title='untitled'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-6154879479390365618</id><published>2010-06-09T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T20:08:08.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that I heard today.....</title><content type='html'>....and hope to not hear again for some time, preferably never again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* the alarm clock...oh wait, I'll hear that again in the stinking morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "Mom, I just spilled my pop and it ran like a river, but it's okay, cuz it's was just an assident." Nate...coming out of the living room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "Mom, I just stepped in dog poop, but it's okay, cuz it's was just an assident." Zak.....standing on the carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "Mom, we was just playing like dogs. That's why Fletchy's food is all over the ground. We was just eatin it. It's okay, cuz it was an assident." Nate and Zak....upon being questioned as to why there was an empty container of dog food on the steps and dog food strewn about the patio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "Mom, it's okay, cuz it was just an assident that I frew dis branch frew the screen door window. It's okay." Nate....looking at the shattered window like it was no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* "Mom, the dog just puked." Ella....as she walks out of her bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to bed and turning off my ears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-6154879479390365618?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/6154879479390365618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=6154879479390365618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/6154879479390365618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/6154879479390365618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/06/things-that-i-heard-today.html' title='Things that I heard today.....'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-1076946404524098896</id><published>2010-06-08T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T21:41:13.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blessings</title><content type='html'>Jesus loves me, this I know....not just because the Bible tells me so, but because He actually shows me His love in so many, many ways. I am a blessed woman, even in this undeniably difficult, hard, really crappy time, I am blessed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had thought differently at the start of my ordeal. I mentioned this to my pastor and even to a couple of friends...maybe even here?...that I wondered if I had used up all of my blessings from God. I have lived such a good life. I did well in school, have had terrific friends, my family is the best, I got into the schools that I wanted to get into, I met and married the man of my dreams, I got jobs handed to me, I have the most amazing children, I was secure financially, I'm funny....you know...all of the really good things in life seemed to happen to me and then...it all fell apart. Was God punishing me for not devoting more of my life to Him? Was there something that I did that displeased Him and this was His way of getting back at me? Did I literally use up all of my blessings by the age of 34? I really struggled with this thinking. That devil, he is a sneaky bugger. I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; that God would never punish me in this way and I get a bit angry at K for making me doubt the Lord's love and devotion for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pastor and I have discussed this subject on more than one occasion. He is a good guy, but darn if he isn't very blunt and to the point. He often says the things that I &lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt; to hear, but don't &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; to hear at all. That's the problem with the truth...sometimes it hurts. He does not believe that God put me on this path. He said that God doesn't want us to be miserable and if He did, He wouldn't be the God that we worship. He said that K is the one that put us on this path, &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;but&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; God is with us. He is by our side thru every up and down, twist and turn, and He will NEVER leave us. His love does not have conditions. That is the truth...the plain and simple Truth. My way of thinking has been changed and my eyes have been opened to the amazing blessings that my Father is bestowing upon us in this worst of times. Some days my blessings are small, some days they are huge, but they are continually flowing. I am smart and healthy. My kids are healthy and the absolute light of my life. I still have the best family and my friends are steadfast and true. Jobs still fall into my lap and I can still smile and make people laugh....good things happen to me. I have a home...it doesn't get much bigger than that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Pastor A one day that I laugh because many times throughout this, when I open my Bible, it falls to the Book of Job. I laugh because I AM SO NOT JOB!!! He laughed too, and said that he thinks I am more of a Joseph. Interesting. Joseph took the high road with his brothers. He could have gotten even with them, he could have chosen to seek vengeance, but he forgave. I have no desire to bad mouth my husband. I love him to this day. Most of the time, I don't know why I love him like I do, but I love him none the less. I believe that I am being blessed for being true to the vows that I spoke 11 years ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Joseph said to them, "Do not be afraid, for am I in the place of God? But as for you&lt;em&gt;, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good...Now therefore, do not be afraid; I will provide for you and your little ones." And he comforted them and spoke kindly to them. &lt;/em&gt; &lt;/em&gt; Genesis 50: 19-21&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel the power of this passage. I feel the prayers that my friends, family and strangers have been praying for my family. I feel provided for. I feel the cloud of uncertainty slowly dissipating. I will be okay. &lt;strong&gt;I am blessed.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-1076946404524098896?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/1076946404524098896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=1076946404524098896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/1076946404524098896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/1076946404524098896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/06/blessings.html' title='Blessings'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-6528542773349650947</id><published>2010-05-24T07:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T08:25:12.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The next chapter.....</title><content type='html'>As I opened the &lt;em&gt;Book of Me &lt;/em&gt;this weekend, I came to the end of a chapter.  I turned the page to start the next chapter and the pages were blank....the rest of the book was blank.  I was so confused and sad.  My life had been laid out for me.  I was K's wife. I was E, N and Z's mom.  I had purpose and direction.  I knew what was expected of me and how I was going to accomplish my deeds.  Maybe a little boring, but I'd choose boring over terrifying any day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This next chapter is blank...I HAVE to be the one that puts the pen to page.  No one is going to write this for me, no matter how much I pray for that to happen.  I am undoubtedly scared by the prospect of writing my own story, but I am also a tiny bit excited.  Being told how your life will be lived, albeit safe and secure, is a bit boring.  I AM NOT BORING!  I am alive. I am loved. I am worthy.  I am strong.  I am smart. I am a good person.  &lt;strong&gt;I will not be dictated.&lt;/strong&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling that this next chapter will be thrilling.  I am sure that there will be hard, sad, uncertain and scary parts to this stroy, but it will be all of my own making.  The author of my own story...a position I will accept.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that I am able to do this all on my own.  I have the best family and friends on the earth.  How did I get so lucky?  As I look back in the &lt;em&gt;Book of Me&lt;/em&gt;, I see why.  I have tried to live my life according to God's plan.  I did the right things (most of the time) and followed along when I was supposed to, was a leader when I was needed to lead and didn't question my path.  I guess that last one isn't true.  It was when I started to question my path/postion that my troubles began.  Apparently when your questions have merit and substance, they cause problems.  Problems that some would rather just prefer went away.  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; became the problem and I was dealt with.  Now the problem is gone, but I foresee many, MANY more problems in the future because I am gone. I guess that is fortunate for me....I no longer have to worry about or deal with the problems that arise.  Sadly, the problem solver in me wants to be there to help.  WHY?  I don't know.  I honestly don't know.  Maybe because I love the man that disposed of our family?  Maybe because I love the life that we led?  Maybe because I loved almost everything about my life and felt that if problems were faced head on and actually dealt with that my life would have been grand?  I guess that those are the questions that will never have the right answers.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never claimed to have had it all together, in fact I don't think that I have even a little bit of it together, but if you stick around, I promise to make it worth your while.  It is sure to be and interesting read....this next chapter of ME.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-6528542773349650947?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/6528542773349650947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=6528542773349650947' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/6528542773349650947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/6528542773349650947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/05/next-chapter.html' title='The next chapter.....'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-3893127688000022677</id><published>2010-05-15T21:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T23:02:32.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>H   O   M    E</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;HOME.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; 4 letters. 1 word. How could they possibly mean so much? Home is so much more than a house, than it's 4 walls...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A home&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; starts with it's foundation. A firm foundation. It's like the Bible says...the wise man built his house upon the rock and the foolish man, his house on the sinking sand. (Matthew 7:24-27) A house built upon Jesus' love will stand strong in life's unrelenting storms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A home&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; does have 4 walls. It's what happens within those 4 walls that makes a house a home. Is there life? Is there love? Is there laughter? Is there commitment? Is there family? Is there compromise? Is there warmth? Is there compassion? Is there friendship? Is there fellowship? Is there devotion? Is Jesus there? These among so many others are what makes a house a home. A home is surrounded in love...the love of family and God's all encompassing love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A home&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; has a roof. The roof doesn't allow the sky to fall in on a home. There are days when we all feel like the world is closing in on us...but when inside our home, we feel safe...we feel secure...we feel covered. Just as God's strong hands shelter and hold us in our darkest hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A home&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; has windows. Windows that allow the warmth and light from the sun to shine in on you. Windows that let in the cool summer breezes pass thru. Windows that give sight out to the children playing and to the beauty of the blooming flowers. Windows that keep the cold winter wind out. Windows that keep the driving rain away. Windows that keep the fiercest of storms at bay. Trusting in the Holy Spirit is like looking thru a window...He allows the good and beautiful in and keeps the bad at a distance. He lets us see and even feel the ick in the world to remind us that we are the ones that have to make the decision to close the window or to leave it open. We have all forgotten to close the windows during a storm....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;A home&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; has a door. In a house, the door lets people in and out. In a home, the door is a beckoning call. A warm welcoming into a place of comfort and joy. In a home the door is always open to friends and family. It opens to a stranger in need and opens again to guests as they come to share in the company that a home provides. Jesus always opens his door....&lt;em&gt;Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. &lt;/em&gt;Matthew 7:7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, I will be moving my kids from the only home that they have ever known. We have been living in an apartment since March, but this is so much different. The movers are coming to MOVE our possessions out of our HOME. The house that they have called home for their entire lives will forever be different. Their stuff won't be there anymore. I am so scared for this to happen. Kids are all about their things and when they go to their dad's most of their "stuffs" won't be there anymore. I can't imaging how hard that is going to be on them. I DO know how hard it has been on me. Packing the past 10 years in to boxes is beyond heartbreaking. Beyond pain that I thought possible. Beyond what I thought God would allow. God did not make this happen to me and I know that He is with me...sometimes the road get very hard to navigate. My sweet EJ is having a tough time...to say the least. I have told her that her white house will &lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt; be her home. Her daddy will be there forever. &lt;strong&gt;BUT&lt;/strong&gt; where ever we are together, we will be home. I pray that she one day is able to forgive us for all that we are putting her thru...to forgive me for not being strong enough not to cry in front of her or play with her enough, and Kev for putting us on this unintended journey. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our home had a foundation built over 100 years ago, 4 beautiful walls, a strong roof, many windows with incredible views, and an open door. We were incredibly blessed to have lived in the family home. It was and is a stately home with a great history. Our children were blessed to have a huge yard, a pool, and a basketball court. We were also blessed (cursed?) to have family right.there.next.to.us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was our home perfect? NO! Our home was lived in and loved in. Could it have been cleaner? Yes. Could it have been quieter? Yes. Could we have let God in more? Yes. Could we have righted wrongs? Yes. Could we have changed behaviors? Yes. Could we have been given a chance? No. That is what makes it more of just a house to me right now. We were never given the chance to save our home. While that is a great loss to me and the kids, I believe that it will be a bigger loss to my husband. God Bless our new home and all who enter it...you will be welcomed with open arms.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-3893127688000022677?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/3893127688000022677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=3893127688000022677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3893127688000022677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3893127688000022677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/05/h-o-m-e.html' title='H   O   M    E'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-7347810923253512733</id><published>2010-05-08T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T21:40:54.914-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Motherhood.</title><content type='html'>So I'm driving down the road one week ago....you know on the way to my new temporary housing from my home of the past 10 years, with a load of my yet to be planted pots and outdoor pretties....and I hear a message on the radio. Ugh...Christian Radio...Why must you be so pertinent? They were talking about helping out a struggling single mother for Mother's Day and &lt;strong&gt;BOOM&lt;/strong&gt; it hit me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm a single mother. &lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, that's me. Single mother. I couldn't stop the tears from coming or the hurt or the sadness or the fear. What am I going to do? Seriously. What am I going to do? How am I going to raise these wonderfully delightful children on my own? I know that I am not truly alone, but I am sooo alone. I love my children beyond my imagination, but this is scary stuff. Their dad loves them, of this I have no doubts, but he has now become "fun dad" and I have become the "one that makes us clean up, practice up, sit up, zip up, brush up, wash up, homework up, play nice up, eat that up, stop that up, no biting/hitting/pinching/licking your brother/sister up, please sleep up, don't make me come in there up, if you get out of bed again, I'm going to have to spank you up, 1....2....3....now I have to spank up, Lord, please help me up mom." Fair? I don't think so, but again none of this is fair. I did not choose this, but I will do everything in my power to make the best of it. How can I not? I have the 3 most precious souls to protect. I have to teach them about overcoming hardship. I have to show them the high road...the value of a dollar...the meaning of a promise kept. God has given me the strength to hold my head high when it would have been so easy (and to be honest, gratifying) to stoop very low. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so blessed to have had the two best parents in the world as my mom and dad. They were strict but fun, hard yet soft, human and hero. They love each other and never kept that a secret. It is so easy to know love when you are shown love. They have values and they didn't compromise them to be cool....which in turn made them very uncool some days. They love God and He was always present in our home. Trust and respect were not a given, they were earned. My sister and I had to fight our own fights and find solutions to our problems. We were given life lessons and skills that have served us well as we became adults, spouses, and parents. Growing up in the Anderson household wasn't always the easiest, but I can't imagine where I'd be today if I hadn't. I pray that I am able to give these gifts to my children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie is sad that I won't be getting any "gifts" this Mother's Day. I told her that I didn't want anything, because I already have every thing that I need. She is a bit skeptical about that. She did write me a poem. And she tells me every day that she loves me. The boys are amazing. I can't tell you the feeling I get when I hear an unsolicited "you da best mommy ever" "i just wuv you so much momma" from 3 year olds. Their wet kisses and neck crushing hugs are priceless. I feel that they know and show love because it was in our home. We never shied away from saying "I love you" to one another. Hugging and kissing was common place. I wasn't faking it or putting on a show for my children...I don't believe that Kevin was either. All I know is that I have the greatest gifts on earth....the love of my children and God's everlasting and forgiving love. My heart, albeit broken and weary, is filled with their love on this Mother's Day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-7347810923253512733?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/7347810923253512733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=7347810923253512733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/7347810923253512733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/7347810923253512733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/05/motherhood.html' title='Motherhood.'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-8989141455243235738</id><published>2010-05-01T20:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T22:49:44.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>this is so not funny.....</title><content type='html'>ok....so 2010 has really, really sucked. Up until February 2010, I have led an incredibly blessed life. I have a great family, children that I adore and a husband that worked hard so that I could stay at home with our precious kids and that loved me more than I could have ever imagined possible....that is until February 6th when he decided that he no longer loved me. This is so hard to write. I will spare all of the horrid details, but he is not the man that I fell in love with 13 years ago. He just decided that this wasn't what he wanted for his life. I guess that his job is too stressful and his family life is too stressful and in order for him to survive he had to give up one of them....unfortunately, he gave up our family. This was a complete and utter shock to me. Blindsided. Sideswiped. Sucker punched. I did not see this coming...at all. Sure we had our problems, but what marriage doesn't? Our marriage was not perfect. I was not the perfect wife, nor was Kevin the perfect husband, but I love him in spite of his faults, failures and quirks. Unconditionally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been lost and broken. What did I do wrong? What could I do to fix things? What was happening to my life? How could this happen to US? We had everything....great jobs, great kids, great home, great love, great families, great friends...nary a worry in the world....except for the one that my husband forgot to share with me...he wasn't happy with any of it....apparently for some time. WOW, this was news to me. We have always been a couple that has shared everything. I never held my emotions or feelings back. I shared because that is how you deal with your concerns and embrace your joys. That is part of my problem, I never withheld anything, good OR bad. That's why I loved Kevin so much, he was always there for me, the only man that I have ever loved, the man that knew everything about me and still loved me. I am so devastated and heartbroken and tired. So very heartbroken. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? The seemingly unanswerable question. We went to one counselling session with our pastor and we went to my counselor together twice. He has not allowed me to go with him to his counselor. Apparently to work on your marriage, you have to do it alone and not talk about your wife much. That's how he was saving our marriage and family. I have never been given the chance to make changes, to right my wrongs, to learn how to be the wife that he needed me to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April 6th, two months to the day of our separation, he served me with divorce papers. I honestly didn't think that my heart could feel any more pain. That was the worst feeling I have ever felt. My life was over. He handed me papers, held me while I cried and then walked out of our life. No emotion. Not a single tear. The same emotion that he has displayed the entire course of this ordeal....nothing. How could 13 years not even garner some sort of sadness? I am still hoping that this is the worst dream ever and that I'll wake up soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Someone pinch me please.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is so hard...but I am not alone. My God has been with me every step of the way. He has given me a strength that I did not know I possessed. There is absolutely no way that I would be surviving this without Him. I know that He is not doing this to me and my children. He is not running around wondering what to do next. He is not trying to figure out Plan B. He has a plan for our life...a life that is not filled with pain and misery...a life that is filled with happiness and love. It is the life that we deserve...I am sad because it was the life that I thought that we had. I hate the past tense...was, were, had, loved....I want to live in the present. I wish that it wasn't so hard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have prayed for God would take my love for Kevin away so that I could move past him and our life together...but He won't and that is where I am stuck. Moving past the last 13 years is not easy... or at least not as easy of a time as Kevin seems to having.  That is the way that I am seeing it. To me it seems that while my life as come to a stand still, Kevin's is moving right along. He goes to work, comes home to our home, swims a few laps in our pool, grills a steak and goes to bed. A tough life. I'm sure that it is not all roses for him, but it is not at all what we are going thru. It was &lt;em&gt;HIS&lt;/em&gt; decision to leave us. It was &lt;em&gt;HE&lt;/em&gt; that decided not to give our family a chance. It is by &lt;em&gt;HIS&lt;/em&gt; choice that we are experiencing great pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not a place that I ever thought that I would find myself. I would have lived the rest of my life trying to make Kevin happy. BUT I couldn't make him happy if he didn't want to be. I personally don't think that the life he has chosen is what will make him happy. All I know it that I am still a blessed woman...I am still a loved woman....I still deserve good things. God has a plan for me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-8989141455243235738?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/8989141455243235738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=8989141455243235738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8989141455243235738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8989141455243235738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/05/this-is-so-not-funny.html' title='this is so not funny.....'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-2340717974278007600</id><published>2010-01-21T12:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T12:36:58.070-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Year</title><content type='html'>A New Year.   So full of possiblities.  So full of promise.  So full of anticipation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made one resolution this year.  That was to have better time management.  Simple.  Or not so simple.  I am not doing as well as I had hoped.  Only 21 days into 2010 and my time is no better managed than it was in 2009.    I'm trying.....kind of.  I just get distracted so easily.  I really want to finish every project that I start...I just need to stop starting 87 projects at once.   Honestly, what I really need is for those crazy, almost 3yo (agh!!) boys of mine to take a stinkin' nap.  They are killing me with all of the constant supervision that they require.   It is really cutting into my cleaning/ organizing/ time managing/ reading/ sleeping/ staring at the TV/ blogging time.  I just can't get a break....ummm except for those 2 days a week that I take them to daycare....See I'm reallllly bad at time management.  I'm gonna get right on it.  Time management.   Management of the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I go.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-2340717974278007600?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/2340717974278007600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=2340717974278007600' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2340717974278007600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2340717974278007600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year.html' title='A New Year'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-3618086280112794952</id><published>2009-10-27T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T09:59:00.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Prayer</title><content type='html'>Dear God-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a morning person, but You know that because You knew me before I was born.  So, Father, knowing me as You do, &lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;why&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;WHY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; did You bless me with children that don't like to sleep?  Why does Zachary love to get up before the sun?  Why does he have such a generous soul and want to share his awake time with his beloved (sleeping) brother and his exhausted mother?  Do they really need to eat breakfast at 5:30 &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;in the morning?&lt;/span&gt;  Come on Lord....they can't enjoy my disposition that early in the morning.... &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; certainly don't enjoy my disposition that early in the morning.  Seriously, You gave twins, can't You at least let them sleep until 7?  I am quite sure that this is Your way of telling me to go to bed earlier, but Father, when they are asleep they are quiet!  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really quiet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.  It makes me feel sane for like 3 minutes.  I like to read books that don't have pictures of tractors &lt;em&gt;or&lt;/em&gt; loaders&lt;em&gt; or&lt;/em&gt; monsters in them.  I enjoy talking to my husband about subjects that don't involve the words "big boy potty" and "hot dogs wif ranch".  Lord, I know that sometimes the answer to my prayer is "NO" and I accept that, but I will still be cranky.   Amen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-3618086280112794952?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/3618086280112794952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=3618086280112794952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3618086280112794952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3618086280112794952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-prayer.html' title='My Prayer'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-8807572030362223810</id><published>2009-06-25T09:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T09:16:16.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things my kids are obsessed with....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;***Ella***&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Disney Television&lt;br /&gt;* Disciplining her brothers&lt;br /&gt;* Books&lt;br /&gt;* The Jonas Brothers&lt;br /&gt;* Swimming&lt;br /&gt;* Saying inappropriate things at inappropriate times&lt;br /&gt;* Being Dramatic&lt;br /&gt;* Being 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;***Nathan***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Boots&lt;br /&gt;* Eating sand&lt;br /&gt;* Wearing only his pajama tops&lt;br /&gt;* Swimming&lt;br /&gt;* Trucks with trailers&lt;br /&gt;* Demanding movies and then not watching them&lt;br /&gt;* Praying at least six times during every meal&lt;br /&gt;* His mother&lt;br /&gt;* Sticking his fingers in his mouth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;***Zachary***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* His Towel&lt;br /&gt;* His Binky&lt;br /&gt;* Wearing socks with sandals&lt;br /&gt;* Opening and closing andopeningandclosingandopening the back door&lt;br /&gt;* Biting his brother&lt;br /&gt;* Going backwards&lt;br /&gt;* Saying "Amen" in the loudest possible voice at the dinner table and at church&lt;br /&gt;* Swimming&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-8807572030362223810?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/8807572030362223810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=8807572030362223810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8807572030362223810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8807572030362223810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/06/things-my-kids-are-obsessed-with.html' title='Things my kids are obsessed with....'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-4517613091646247805</id><published>2009-04-11T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T13:14:05.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Will I Ever Learn?</title><content type='html'>What do you get when you mix 2 two year old boys, a loader dump truck tractor scraper mower digger bulldozer, and a bowl of rocks and corn (aka &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kix&lt;/span&gt;)? Well, my friends, besides a huge, crunchy mess on my floor, you get 45 minutes of pure, unadulterated little boy fun. Surely I had better things to do than sit and watch my sons enjoy the simplest of pleasures, but I can't think of a one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens when 2 two year old boys have played nicely for 45 minutes? Literally at minute 46 someone has to disturb the peace. Someone has to take the scraper from his brother and a short &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tussle&lt;/span&gt; will ensue. Then brother will decide that the scraper is last weeks news and get the dump truck, but it seems that someone will not let the little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;tiff&lt;/span&gt; go and amid shouts of "NO" from the mother, someone gives &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;lil&lt;/span&gt;' &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt;' brother a big scraper to the back of the head. Someone (Zak) ends up in the corner for some serious "you need to think about what you did and why it was an inappropriate way to handle your emotions" time and brother (Nate) spent some time in the chair with mother (me) making sure that nothing was seriously damaged. Thankfully all was fine and Zak did his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;allotted&lt;/span&gt; time in the corner. Nate was all ready to hug and make up, but Zak apparently holds grudges and wouldn't hug his bro back. Let's just say that Zachary is becoming well acquainted with the corner, the wall, the time out chair lately and Nate spends a lot of time getting his wounds nursed by me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....And you wonder why I haven't blogged in over 2 months......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-4517613091646247805?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/4517613091646247805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=4517613091646247805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4517613091646247805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4517613091646247805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/04/will-i-ever-learn.html' title='Will I Ever Learn?'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-5039433849607665009</id><published>2009-02-03T06:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T08:02:33.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that keep me awake at night</title><content type='html'>(Not including my children, my husband, my dog, my hormones, my creaky 105 year old house....)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are the 23 flavors in Dr. Pepper? &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;23&lt;/span&gt;...Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do flannel sheet makers get hate mail? I mean, I love my flannel sheets, so much so, that if I could, I would stay in my cozy, warm bed &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;all the live long day!&lt;/span&gt; But do people with &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;real&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; jobs hate flannel sheets?... How do they haul themselves out of bed in order to get to work on time? Do employers find that they have a sudden rash of late and absentee workers when the weather turns cold? (We do....oh wait, the weather isn't a contributing factor here.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When should I start to use anti-aging lotion? I still get zits, but I can see the beginnings of a few "laugh" lines. Do they make a lotion for "somewhere in between puberty and menopause"? Benzoyl peroxide with Retin-A?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are boys &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; different than girls?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does Nathan only want to eat sherbert for breakfast&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;and lunch&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;and dinner&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else have really vivid dreams about telling your inlaws off about how rude it is to take &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;34&lt;/span&gt; days of vacation to Maui while you have to stay at home with your crabby husband, 3 snotty nosed children, dog that has to be on a special diet, and allllllll of their workload? Really? Could I handle any more? Probably, but I don't wanna. &lt;em&gt;**pout**&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why aren't there ever enough hours in the day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why won't my house stay clean for longer than &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;17&lt;/span&gt; minutes? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Why&lt;/span&gt; Why &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I not sleeping?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-5039433849607665009?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/5039433849607665009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=5039433849607665009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/5039433849607665009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/5039433849607665009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/02/things-that-keep-me-awake-at-night.html' title='Things that keep me awake at night'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-9121290313524774442</id><published>2009-01-16T13:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T13:36:45.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letting go.</title><content type='html'>Okay, so for the 3 of you that actually read my blog, you already know that I am slightly neurotic. I mean, come on, it's right there in the header! Anyway...it was a sad day for me. I had to throw away 40 bags of frozen breast milk in order to fit 35 bags of hamburger in my deep freezer. It was so hard! I know that the boys are almost 2, but still it was tough. It was like throwing their baby days away and knowing that we will never have another baby means that I will never experience that phase of life again. Ugh....I need therapy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-9121290313524774442?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/9121290313524774442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=9121290313524774442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/9121290313524774442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/9121290313524774442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/01/letting-go.html' title='Letting go.'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-7079361677558581350</id><published>2009-01-16T13:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T13:26:23.473-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lesson NOT learned</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Seriously folks&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;have got to watch your toddlers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;! In the 3 minutes (or 10) it takes to make out at deposit slip (aka checking email, looking at facebook, staring into space....) your almost 2yo twins will destroy everything that has taken you years to accomplish. They will climb mountains and open doors to a whole new world.....or they will climb up cupboards to get your makeup and open the front door to call for the dog and any other varmint in the neighborhood. Good thing daddy happened to be near the house and heard a little boy voice calling for Fletchy or who knows what or who we would have had in the living room. It was only the large daddy voice that brought me out of my stupor and alerted me to the trouble in the other wing of the house. This is what I found.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292005262805882994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SXD6v48K2HI/AAAAAAAAAKE/NDe_xgX_RXA/s320/100_2960.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But darn if he isn't cute!  A little bronze eyeliner really brings out his smile.  One day I will learn to pick up after myself and I will eventually get the entire house Nate and Zak proof....most likely when they leave for college.  Whatever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-7079361677558581350?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/7079361677558581350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=7079361677558581350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/7079361677558581350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/7079361677558581350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/01/lesson-not-learned.html' title='Lesson NOT learned'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SXD6v48K2HI/AAAAAAAAAKE/NDe_xgX_RXA/s72-c/100_2960.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-2298539399632928931</id><published>2009-01-15T15:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T18:57:43.077-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The face of mischief....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hi. My name is Zak. I like to make life exciting. I think that it is funny when my mom pulls on her hair and her left eye twitches. It's super fun when she yells at me, but says my brother's name by mistake....sometimes Nate is being naughty too, but usually it's all me, baby. I have recently learned to crawl out of my crib. I am &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;awesome!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291681995070749698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW_UvOyFvAI/AAAAAAAAAJk/miOSA59V-m8/s320/100_2939.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This, this is the face that greeted me at 12:37 AM on Tuesday morning saying ever so politely "&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Mother&lt;/span&gt;, may I please have smidge of milk? And I would also enjoy a private viewing of my new favorite movie &lt;em&gt;Cars. &lt;/em&gt;If you could be ever so kind as to do these things for me, I would be forever grateful." or maybe he just said "Milky?" "Cars?" and then ran around in the dark.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291681995640485570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW_UvQ57NsI/AAAAAAAAAJs/6B4kHZAhk5s/s320/100_2946.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is the boy that makes us do this to his bed, so that he can't ask for drinks and private viewings of his favorite movies during the wee hours of the morning....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291717030729875826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW_0mkyKAXI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/mN6y3LdEFOw/s320/100_2965.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;......some very ingenius thinking on Kevin's part....especially at 1:30 in the morning.  Yet another use for pool noodles!  Unfortunately, Kev had to go out to his garage to get said noodles and at 1:30 AM it was &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;COLD&lt;/span&gt; outside!!!!  Yay Daddy!  Zak actually thinks that his bed is super cool now and has been safely tucked in for the past 2 nights!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Both boys have continued with their fasination in potty training.  As if I could possibly fit one more thing into our day.  Here is Zak's newest take on potty training.  I'm thinking that maybe his lil bum was chilly or maybe he just wants to drive me crazy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291682003022136210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW_UvsZ2Q5I/AAAAAAAAAJ0/jbe2b6B1XJ0/s320/100_2955.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-2298539399632928931?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/2298539399632928931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=2298539399632928931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2298539399632928931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2298539399632928931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/01/face-of-mischief.html' title='The face of mischief....'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW_UvOyFvAI/AAAAAAAAAJk/miOSA59V-m8/s72-c/100_2939.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-4052592170743280976</id><published>2009-01-01T19:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T15:21:25.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The REAL Santa Claus</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Santa Claus&lt;/span&gt; made an appearance at Big G and the Kissinger Kids were eagerly anticipating their meeting witht he big guy. Zachary could hardly contain himself....he hollered "Santa" all the way to town. Nate was silent. I think that he was mentally cataloging his list. Ella had her schpeel all worked out.....an American Girl doll, &lt;u&gt;Get a Clue&lt;/u&gt; books, and a New York fashion designer game. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got to Big G and the big moment had finally arrived....&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Santa!!&lt;/span&gt; Zak froze...a deer in the headlights. Who was this huge man in red and what was that white stuff on his face? Where was the Santa he'd been expecting? You know the one with a black top hat, button eyes, a carrot nose and a corn cob pipe....our poor Zak thinks that &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Santa&lt;/span&gt; is a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;snowman&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ellie, having all of her ducks in a row, marched right up to Santa, sat down, got the list laid out for him and got her candy cane. Love a lady that gets right to the point and gets the job done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291658015995692210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW--7dxFhLI/AAAAAAAAAJc/ct5TcD5QpTo/s320/100_2843.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nathan had business to do with the man in red and actually mustered up the nerve to sit on his lap. I think that it helped to have his big sis there to hold his hand and tell him that it would all be okay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291658011505877058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW--7NCoYEI/AAAAAAAAAJU/WH1CZQFgWsI/s320/100_2844.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291658005448802994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW--62egwrI/AAAAAAAAAJM/FXHGR3Q1t7I/s320/100_2847.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291657996664313058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW--6VwIFOI/AAAAAAAAAJE/7FqTrgSmQ_Q/s320/100_2848.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that Christmas morning has past, Ella told me..."Mom, that must have been the&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; REAL Santa&lt;/span&gt; at Big G, because I got everything that I asked for." What a good listener that Santa is and a very lucky little girl Ellie is. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291657987963101778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW--51VmIlI/AAAAAAAAAI8/FCqOGEnmvjU/s320/100_2853.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Apparently, Santa needs to go on a diet.  I asked Ellie to get his plate of cookies ready and this was all she gave him.  She's lucky the Big Guy thinks that she's cute....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;**Santa didn't know what a NY fashion designer game was and his American Girl doll wore Madame Alexander doll shoes, but the books were the real deal!!**&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-4052592170743280976?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/4052592170743280976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=4052592170743280976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4052592170743280976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4052592170743280976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/01/real-santa-claus.html' title='The REAL Santa Claus'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SW--7dxFhLI/AAAAAAAAAJc/ct5TcD5QpTo/s72-c/100_2843.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-5536630893074774849</id><published>2009-01-01T14:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T19:00:50.544-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy in Grouchland</title><content type='html'>Office visit ...... $30&lt;br /&gt;ER visit ......... yet to be determined unbelievable amount of $$$&lt;br /&gt;Call to on-call pediatrician ....... FREE!!&lt;br /&gt;Office visit ...... $30&lt;br /&gt;2 day stay at non-luxurious MLMH ...... yet to be determined ungodly huge amount of $$$&lt;br /&gt;Seeing the Nater smile again ........ truly priceless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warning....Really long and quite boring....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a long couple of weeks. Ella got the flu (down for a few hours), Kevin got the flu (down for 2 days), Nate got the flu and pneumonia (down for a full week with multiple dr visits and eventual hospital stay) Ella got the flu again (down for one night), Zak made himself puke cuz he felt left out and I am yet to get truly sick (althought I am tired beyond belief). Life is finally getting back to normal here at the Kissinger family home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so thankful for our family in this time of stress and need. My parents and Kevin's parents were so very helpful and patient and understanding. I am still trying to get my schedule back to normal...spending a full week in bed with a sick kids has taken its toll on my house, our laundry situation, and seriously cut into my mindless computer time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan got sick on Wednesday December 17th. Just the run of the mill puking all over his mom and the floor and in his parents bed. The start of some super fun times. Thursday afternoon the poo started, so I thought that maybe he should be seen by a "real" medical professional. The PA at our pedi's office said that he was not yet dehydrated and gave us Zoforan to deal with his nausea so that we could keep something in him and start to get him hydrated. Things started looking up on Friday as he was more animated and actually ate some lunch. They looked up until 4:30 when he started puking and pooping what can only be called "the most foul smelling stagnet water on the earth". Of course at 4:30 on Friday afternoon is now after hours at the clinic. The on-call PA said that he needed to be seen and unfortunately that meant the ER. So Nate and I trekked on in to Hastings and the most exciting ER at MLMH. Poor Nater. It took 3 tries to get his IV started and about 6 different lab draws plus a chest X-ray before they left us alone to let him get his fluid. They determined from the x-ray that he had pneumonia and gave him IV antibiotics. They called the pediatrician on call and he said to send us home after the appropriate amount of fluid was given. I should have known that this was a mistake because as soon as we got home from the ER he puked all over the family room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday my mom took the other Kissinger Kids for us. God Bless her. Most of our day was spent lying around listening to Nate moan and cry and watching him sleep. After he ate a couple of crackers, we decided to try his antibiotic and not 20 minutes after he took it, he puked it all out. Hence our call to the office once again. We were told to give him the medicine in 2 half doses in stead of one large dose. OKAY....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, Kevin went to Christmas at his Grandma's house and to bring Ellie home for school on Monday morning. My mom decided to keep Zak for us until Nate started to feel better. Nathan slept almost the entire day on Sunday and when he wasn't sleeping he was moaning, wailing, or pooping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday, we called the office to make an appt, because he was so listless and "not Nate". Kev's mom took him for a while so that I could actually get a little sleep. That was so appreciated. I had only slept for at most 2hrs at a time since Weds evening. Hanging with a puking, pooping, restless, crying 22mos old is not condusive to sleep. Anyhoo, enough about my sad story, back to Nate....our appt was at 3:45. At 3:00, the school called saying that Ellie wasn't feeling good, had had an "episode of diarrhea" and that they would like for us to come and get her. Arrrrgh!! So, Kev's mom went to SC to get Ella, and we took Nate to the dr. While we were waiting to be called back the poor kid started to puke all over me, the floor, himself. Amazingly he totally missed Kevin. Imagine that. Did you know that puking in the waiting room does NOT get you called back any faster? Loved sitting out there discussing my sons woes with a stranger and a girl that I barely knew from high school. When we did finally get back, they took one look and said that he needed to go to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our stay at MLMH was decidedly unfun. They had a very hard time finding a vein to start his IV, but fortunately were able to get his IV started on the first try and lab was able to get their draw on the first try as well. He only slept from 10pm until 12:30am that night. He finally started to settled down when they allowed him to have some ice chips and I put in the movie &lt;u&gt;Elmo in Grouchland&lt;/u&gt;. I think that this brought him some comfort because we have this movie at home and he had seen it several times in the past couple of weeks. (It was a welcome repreive from the horrible &lt;u&gt;All About John Deere&lt;/u&gt; movies) We watched Elmo (all 1hr 15mins) twice before his IV stopped. His vein had blown and his little arm was so swollen and he was in lots of pain. I just couldn't take it anymore. I was so tired and hated to see my little boy being put thru so much pain...the tears started and I couldn't get them to stop. I had to leave him, for the first time in days, while they tried to get the new IV started. I felt like such a bad mom, I couldn't help him and I left him in his time of need. I am thankful that this took place at 5am so there weren't many people around to see my mental break down in the halls of the 2nd floor. They were able to get his IV done, but it was in a very precarious position. I was so nervous about holding him and moving him, because I didn't want him to lose this IV. By the grace of God this one withstood the test of time and held for the rest of his stay. The drs decided to let him eat a little on Tuesday morning and I tell you what...he at like a trucker. All of his eggs, all of &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; eggs, a piece of toast and some cinnamon roll. After he got his little belly full, we were off to sleep. We basically slept all day on Tuesday, which was both a blessing and a curse. While the sleep was a welcome retreat, it meant that Nate was still very sick. They say that rehydrated babies really perk up after recieving fluids and Nate just wasn't perking up like they would have liked to have seen, so it was another night for the two of us and Elmo. That darn little red dude kept my little pale dude happy, so I endured.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas Eve morning brought many good things for us. Nate love the rides in the red wagon, up and down and up and down andupanddownand...you get the picture, the hallway of the second floor. There are 15 doors on the west side of the hall and 15 doors on the east side of the hall....Nate pointed them all out many times. We saw many beautiful hearts on the 24th. A little girl brought up a few gifts for the children in the hospital and someone had donated stuffed animals as well. Pastor Remmers came to visit before lunch. Before we left the State Patrol brought up a bunch of teddy bears for the kids, but Nate was the only one on the floor. They came to visit him in his room and let him pick out a bear. How very thoughtful of them all!! We got home about 2:30 on Christmas Eve afternoon. We were all so happy to be home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole ordeal with Nathan really made me doubt my parenting ablility. I don't think that I'll every feel completely competant as a parent. I guess that I'll just keep plugging away and praying that I'll do it right and without too much lasting trauma to the Kissinger Kids. I am thankful that God gave me these children to love and protect and I pray that we don't have to go through this again any time soon. I hate it when my kids are split up and away from eachother and from the entire family. I am also thankful that God has given me the patience to get through watching &lt;u&gt;Elmo in Grouchland&lt;/u&gt; 876 trajillion times since we've been home from the hospital...seriously...I wouldn't lie about something so flipping important as Elmo's search for his blanket. It is high drama, on screen and off, especially when Mommy says that Melmo has to take a nap and Nate &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; Zak pitch a fit. Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow...if you made it through all of this, then I applaud you. It was really just a cathartic release for me. It was a hard week and I am glad that it is over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-5536630893074774849?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/5536630893074774849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=5536630893074774849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/5536630893074774849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/5536630893074774849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2009/01/mommy-in-grouchland.html' title='Mommy in Grouchland'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-2229331903819892564</id><published>2008-12-04T11:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T09:32:29.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gingerbread Decorating Party</title><content type='html'>Did I say party? I meant complete chaos, craziness, and was I on crack when I offered my house to do this fun little project? Really, how messy can 11 children (10 of them under the age of 6), enough frosting to mortar my house together, and bags upon bags upon boxes of candy, in my dining room be? &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;MESSY! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But totally worth it. The children had an excellent time and they even left a little bit of the candy for the houses, which turned out pretty spectacular, if you ask me...(and if you didn't ask me, then quit reading my blog, cuz it's all about me). Thankfully all of the mothers were laid back and went with the candy induced flow. Kevin, however, sat in the family room, his eye all a twitching.  He stayed there because I didn't want him to scare the children. He was having a freak out attack at the amount of sugar and frosting and mess and number of small children and &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;who was going&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;to clean all&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;of this up???!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fun time was had by all. Amazingly enough, it was cleaned up in no time at all. It's whatcha call or.gan.i.za.tion, my friends. All of the leftover candy went into one tiny ziplock bag, the freezer paper that I had taped to the table beforehand was pulled up and thrown away, and the floor was vacuumed. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Presto, snap, boom&lt;/span&gt;.....the room is clean and Kevin stopped twitching.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276727796682708674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STqz-Umz1sI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ffXNNEE6xWM/s320/100_2764.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Now, this is my kind of party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276727546016461970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STqzvuzUdJI/AAAAAAAAAIo/i2lS1poRXxQ/s320/100_2769.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Could there be &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt; more candy in this picture?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276727056607726594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STqzTPnLzAI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/_ShCOygcNP0/s320/100_2772.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Natalie and Ellie collaberating on Ellie's house.  (There is only 2 weeks difference in age with these two ragamuffins.)  We are blessed to have them as our backyard, thru the trees neighbors here on the compound.  I guess that we are also blessed cuz they're related to us and have to live on the compound too.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276727045326475058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STqzSllhjzI/AAAAAAAAAII/hyPTKMy6JKQ/s320/100_2775.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;My friend Ann, whom we refer to as Dr. Ann D.D.S.  She twitched a little bit at the sight of all of the candy and such, but she got over it when she realized that she was all of our dentist.  Then she saw her kids college being paid for and the twitching subsided.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276727030149223762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STqzRtC_FVI/AAAAAAAAAIA/-t_voeay0DQ/s320/100_2794.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The finished products!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-2229331903819892564?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/2229331903819892564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=2229331903819892564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2229331903819892564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2229331903819892564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/12/gingerbread-decorating-party.html' title='Gingerbread Decorating Party'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STqz-Umz1sI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ffXNNEE6xWM/s72-c/100_2764.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-3904798835791877074</id><published>2008-12-03T19:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T09:26:44.664-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One down, Two to go</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;We did it&lt;/span&gt;. We finally broke down and took one of our children skiing. We are officially crazy and broke. And much to our joy and our pocketbooks dismay...Ellie loved it. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#990000;"&gt;Skiing is cool and I am really good at it.... &lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;so says she&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We had a fabulous time together. Ellie at ski school, Kevin on the slopes, Me napping and shopping and what not. Good times. If you ask Ella what her favorite part of the trip was she will tell you the hot tub and the pool. Yep that's our girl....all about the water sports. Seriously, she couldn't stop talking about the hot tubs...they were &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;outside&lt;/span&gt;, my friends....in the &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;cold and snowy&lt;/span&gt; outside! She just couldn't get enough of that concept. I, on the other hand, thought that the dry sauna was perfect and warm and dry and indoors. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Ella did 2 days of ski school. We dropped her off at 8:30 and picked her up at 3:30. Do you know how much napping one can do in that amount of time? It was awesome. On the second day Kev thought that he might catch a glimpse of her skiing, so he made his way over from his double black &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;whatevers&lt;/span&gt; to the baby bunny green carpets. He tried in vain, looking for a sweet little one in a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;white&lt;/span&gt; coat and &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;brown&lt;/span&gt; pants, but much to his dismay, he couldn't find her. Little did he know our budding snow bunny was wearing a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;brown&lt;/span&gt; coat and &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;pink&lt;/span&gt; pants that day. I am, I mean, &lt;em&gt;she&lt;/em&gt; is a diva. Can't wear the same thing twice! Thankfully the super expensive goggles that Amy lent us went with both outfits. Can you imagine the damage to her&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(my)&lt;/span&gt; psyche if she didn't look cute as a button on the slopes? Fortunately, we were able to see her skiing down the mountain when we went to pick her up. She did a fabulous job! She was first in line...we assume this was because she was the slowest and they didn't want to leave her behind on the slopes. We are so proud of her! Now she wants to bring all of her friends skiing. Probably not going to happen any time soon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275982099649760226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STgNxCrxi-I/AAAAAAAAAHw/8PTrtS5SP4E/s320/100_2802.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Still smiling after her first day!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275982106382900322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STgNxbxFHGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/nc5uXzDwZLo/s320/100_2806bw.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Mommy and Ellie&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275982082573107890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STgNwDEYgrI/AAAAAAAAAHg/DhR1_GDuwLs/s320/100_2814.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Coming down the mountain!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275982094013352114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STgNwtr8yLI/AAAAAAAAAHo/VXBEQLNlNA8/s320/100_2817.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Skiing with the cool kids....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275982077276867090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STgNvvVqShI/AAAAAAAAAHY/fZHWyYIAeBU/s320/100_2823.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Ellie and the most patient instructor, Liz.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I did get a little video of her at the end.  You know, after she was down the mountain and standing in front of us and I&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; finally &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;remembered that my camera also shoots video.  If I knew how to post video, I would because it is a fine work of craftmanship, I tell you.  A &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;rivoting&lt;/span&gt; 47 seconds of Ellie skate-skiing into the ski school area and some ladies head that kept getting in my way.  The nerve of some people!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I shudder to think about ski trips with the boys. It makes my head hurt, so I think that I won't worry about it until the time comes. Life is good and I should just enjoy it as it comes....Right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-3904798835791877074?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/3904798835791877074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=3904798835791877074' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3904798835791877074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3904798835791877074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/12/one-down-two-to-go.html' title='One down, Two to go'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STgNxCrxi-I/AAAAAAAAAHw/8PTrtS5SP4E/s72-c/100_2802.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-4020597419160200135</id><published>2008-12-02T08:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T09:19:18.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>They just keep growing!</title><content type='html'>They grow up so fast. Lately the boys have been hating their high chairs and have been wanting to eat anywhere but there. Since we didn't &lt;em&gt;plan &lt;/em&gt;on&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;3 children, the island in our kitchen is not big enough to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;accommodate&lt;/span&gt; 3 chairs. This is where we eat most of our meals....you know quality family together time...Kev and Ellie at the island, the boys in their highchairs along the kitchen wall and me standing somewhere trying to get my food while it's still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;luke&lt;/span&gt; warm. We do try to sit together at the dining room table when we can, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; our schedules seem to be all over the place lately and it's just a job to get everyone fed. Anyway...we do have a new top for our island ordered. It will be big enough for three chairs with the option of an extra when we need it. The only problem is that the guy that is doing our pool is doing the counter top as well. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Soooo&lt;/span&gt;, we will probably have that done when the boys reach Jr High.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple of pics of our big boys acting like big boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275235780368039186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 319px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STVm_itEfRI/AAAAAAAAAGw/-54Ee6Jq3ww/s320/100_2752.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275235788443685250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STVnAAydEYI/AAAAAAAAAG4/C2ycBGZUUf8/s320/100_2755.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ellie, the little stinker, thinks that she is a big girl too! She recently got to help Kevin put the Christmas lights on the house. I may have had a moment of weakness when I allowed this and then of course had to take pictures of it. She said that she had fun, but was upset with her father when he made her stop dancing and jumping on the roof. I guess that big girls don't know the meaning of "Stand right here and DON'T MOVE!" She had a fun time helping her dad and is very proud of her work. I'll have to take a pic of that some night.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275235799133043410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STVnAom_utI/AAAAAAAAAHA/Aw51n66CIRg/s320/100_2745.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275235808053639938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STVnBJ11OwI/AAAAAAAAAHI/VbT8YzSyuNw/s320/100_2746.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And then there are the days when I wish that they/he, would just act their/his age. Kevin is such a little boys sometimes. The other night he went out to burn some trash. He comes running in the house, giggling like a little girl, "Go look out the back window!" I, the obedient wife, do as told and see this.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275239885534949074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STVqufpIbtI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/ILwE9r5P_XE/s320/100_2757.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;a huge raging fire from the small amount of trash that was to be burned. I asked the little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;pyro&lt;/span&gt; what was going on and he giggled again "I built a really cool, big fire." He had found some cardboard and started it on fire as well. The cardboard was really tall and he couldn't fit the cover on the barrel to keep the burning trash from blowing all over and starting the house, trees, shop on fire. I lost interest in his little show and went back to my child care giving, until I heard him say "Oh crap, the grass is on fire!" The big cardboard piece fell out and started the grass aflame. Thankfully, nothing became of the grass blaze and all the excitement settled down. For the record &lt;strong&gt;I did not&lt;/strong&gt; take the picture of the fire. That was all Kevin's doing.....his I am 15 years old, I love fire, and want proof of my big fire doing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-4020597419160200135?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/4020597419160200135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=4020597419160200135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4020597419160200135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4020597419160200135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/12/they-just-keep-growing.html' title='They just keep growing!'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/STVm_itEfRI/AAAAAAAAAGw/-54Ee6Jq3ww/s72-c/100_2752.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-8031161587397498338</id><published>2008-11-06T13:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T14:28:14.652-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Randomness</title><content type='html'>Again here are some everyday pictures from the Kissinger house. Random and kooky. That's us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what happens when daddy is left in charge. Nate gets stuck in the sink and mommy has to come to the rescue....but not until after she had to run back down stairs, find her camera and come back to the rescue. When Kevin called me he didn't say anything about this act being photo worthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnPJoi88I/AAAAAAAAAGI/NyEg9FbAxRk/s1600-h/100_2693.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265665899307922370" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnPJoi88I/AAAAAAAAAGI/NyEg9FbAxRk/s320/100_2693.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ella got a megaphone at the Sandy Creek carnival. I think that this is a much better use for it. Zak...wearing sissy's boots and megaphone, looking like a garden gnome. (notice that I could not get him to stand up for anything. It was much cuter when he was walking)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnPxm3cnI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Tt8xFrYhVzw/s1600-h/100_2706.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265665910038295154" style="WIDTH: 301px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnPxm3cnI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/Tt8xFrYhVzw/s320/100_2706.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I found in my laundry last week.&lt;br /&gt;A formica sample&lt;br /&gt;A used bandaid&lt;br /&gt;5 barrettes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnQAbVv3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/o-W-WOaVg-w/s1600-h/100_2707.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265665914016481138" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnQAbVv3I/AAAAAAAAAGY/o-W-WOaVg-w/s320/100_2707.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nathan's newest act of disregard for personal safety and for mom's sanity. (I know that my first action should not have been -go get the camera- but it was in the kitchen and he was ultimately saved.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnQYJN99I/AAAAAAAAAGg/KHq45Jkdr7Y/s1600-h/100_2731.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265665920382924754" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnQYJN99I/AAAAAAAAAGg/KHq45Jkdr7Y/s320/100_2731.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bert? Do yall see it? Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnQ5btohI/AAAAAAAAAGo/44k5IGGKlXI/s1600-h/100_2732.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265665929318867474" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnQ5btohI/AAAAAAAAAGo/44k5IGGKlXI/s320/100_2732.jpg" 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/3640309585339726878-8031161587397498338?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/8031161587397498338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=8031161587397498338' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8031161587397498338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8031161587397498338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/11/random-randomness.html' title='Random Randomness'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNnPJoi88I/AAAAAAAAAGI/NyEg9FbAxRk/s72-c/100_2693.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-228283139322200459</id><published>2008-11-06T12:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T13:44:10.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A cheerleader, a mummy and a skeleton walk into a bar....</title><content type='html'>Our halloween kind of felt like a comedy routine.  My mom was in the hospital, Ellie was a crazy, sugar junkie, Kevin got home late, I tried (and failed) to make a fabulous halloween themed dinner, my dad came over, Kevin finally noticed that I'd painted the front door, the kids tricked and treated.....I am so glad that it is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the break down...My mom called on the 30th and just casually said "I just thought I'd let you know that I'm in the hospital."  Umm, Okay... They admitted her with the diagnosis of pancreatitis and were keeping her there to aleviate her pain and hide food from her.  She said that it was a painful and expesenisve diet.  The boys and I went up to see her on the 31st.  She was staying on the Peds floor (I guess she looks young for her age) and the nurses were so nice to us.  They brought the boys little bags of Halloween treats.  Each bag has stickers and candy and little dinosaurs in them.  I swear I need my camera surgically attached to me.  Of course I didn't have it with me, you know sick mom and photo op don't really go together.  I should have because Nathan took his little 3" dinosaur, promptly put it on the floor and tried to ride it.  It was hilarious....NO? maybe you had to be there cuz it.was.funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After our fun filled time with granny we rushed home to get ready for the festivities.  As you know, Martha and I share ideals of how holiday's should be celebrated.  I was going to make little biscuit pizzas with Jack-o-Lantern cheese cut outs on top and witches broom stick bread sticks and I can't remember what else because it obviously didn't happen.  Only 2 pizzas had faces, the brooms were all crazy witchy and I threw some veggie of some sort out there too.  Kevin wasn't home, the kids were HUNGRY, trick or treaters were banging on the door demanding their loot, my dad was just arriving...I was a stress ball.  My perfect ideas were crumbling around my feet...I decided to throw the "Don't give a crap" switch and instantly felt much better and actually enjoyed myself and my kids on this night of sugar overload.   How could I not enjoy them?  They are God's blessings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cheerleader, skeleton and mummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNaup3KRRI/AAAAAAAAAFg/GmIUJTq7AMY/s1600-h/100_2709.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265652146883937554" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNaup3KRRI/AAAAAAAAAFg/GmIUJTq7AMY/s320/100_2709.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie doing her "Real Cheerleader" pose.  I guess that dance and gymnastics are paying off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNavlv8GjI/AAAAAAAAAF4/PF4OT4iAzds/s1600-h/100_2714.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265652162959776306" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNavlv8GjI/AAAAAAAAAF4/PF4OT4iAzds/s320/100_2714.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nater and his beloved vacuum.  I guess that even skeletons like clean houses.  Who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNavESfOFI/AAAAAAAAAFw/K5GCD22oQmE/s1600-h/100_2712.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265652153977878610" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNavESfOFI/AAAAAAAAAFw/K5GCD22oQmE/s320/100_2712.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zak learned to say "Cheese!" for the camera. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNau2Wo3rI/AAAAAAAAAFo/DeaXGBQL2qw/s1600-h/100_2711.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265652150237191858" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNau2Wo3rI/AAAAAAAAAFo/DeaXGBQL2qw/s320/100_2711.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papa and Nate feeling the love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNawRj896I/AAAAAAAAAGA/_kOeQXleTlY/s1600-h/100_2724.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265652174720661410" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNawRj896I/AAAAAAAAAGA/_kOeQXleTlY/s320/100_2724.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A cheerleader, a skeleton and a mummy walked into a bar and bumped their heads.  (seriously horrid joke!  Give me a break, it would have been just wrong to have had them show their fake ID's!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;****BTW....the door had been black for 3 weeks before Kevin noticed it and by "notice it" I mean he asked if the door had always been black.****&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-228283139322200459?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/228283139322200459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=228283139322200459' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/228283139322200459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/228283139322200459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/11/cheerleader-mummy-and-skeleton-walk.html' title='A cheerleader, a mummy and a skeleton walk into a bar....'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SRNaup3KRRI/AAAAAAAAAFg/GmIUJTq7AMY/s72-c/100_2709.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-786668595026916381</id><published>2008-10-29T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T13:16:38.306-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things I ......</title><content type='html'>Like......(not in any particular order)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* lists&lt;br /&gt;* pedicures&lt;br /&gt;* clean houses&lt;br /&gt;* children that sleep thru the night *bonus if they belong to me*&lt;br /&gt;* dr pepper&lt;br /&gt;* reading mystery novels&lt;br /&gt;* Jesus&lt;br /&gt;* TV&lt;br /&gt;* shopping&lt;br /&gt;* laptops in the kitchen&lt;br /&gt;* children that say "Please" and "Thank You"&lt;br /&gt;* Mondays and Wednesdays&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dislike..... (again in no particular order)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* rudeness&lt;br /&gt;* dieting&lt;br /&gt;* husbands that wake you up from a deep sleep to tell you that a child is screaming and that you should go take care of said screaming child&lt;br /&gt;* children that don't sleep thru the night&lt;br /&gt;* friends that live far away (not the actual friends, just the far away living part)&lt;br /&gt;* nuts&lt;br /&gt;* pool people that don't deliver pools when they are supposed to&lt;br /&gt;* liars&lt;br /&gt;* bloggers with really funny blogs that make me waste much of my valuable time reading their funny blogs&lt;br /&gt;* laptops in the kitchen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-786668595026916381?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/786668595026916381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=786668595026916381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/786668595026916381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/786668595026916381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/10/things-i.html' title='Things I ......'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-8607829886950982737</id><published>2008-10-22T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T13:29:26.699-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Misdemeanor or Felony?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SP-K5T86d8I/AAAAAAAAAE4/qYzs-nKV-2M/s1600-h/100_2689.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260075607004968898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SP-K5T86d8I/AAAAAAAAAE4/qYzs-nKV-2M/s320/100_2689.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is our dear, sweet, always law abiding Ellie's first go at forgery. We have to sign her homework every night and the other night, she decided to take care of it for me. I do have to give her credit....she came to show me how well she can write my name and tell me that I wouldn't have to do it anymore. She also didn't know that forgery is a crime. We had a little talk about writting mommy's name on things and she agreed that it would be best for me to do the signing from now on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;**Now, either Ellie is really good, or Kevin is really unobservant, because when he saw this worksheet, he asked me why I signed it twice. I vote for really unobservant.**&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-8607829886950982737?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/8607829886950982737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=8607829886950982737' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8607829886950982737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8607829886950982737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/10/misdemeanor-or-felony.html' title='Misdemeanor or Felony?'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SP-K5T86d8I/AAAAAAAAAE4/qYzs-nKV-2M/s72-c/100_2689.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-8775518700879037729</id><published>2008-10-19T12:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T12:24:47.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Run Bubba Run</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPuHAApjHAI/AAAAAAAAAEw/XbovRDsmVSk/s1600-h/100_2482.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258945424129203202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPuHAApjHAI/AAAAAAAAAEw/XbovRDsmVSk/s320/100_2482.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today my big sister, Gina, is running the San Francisco 1/2 Marathon.  She is running as a part of the Team in Training for the Luekemia and Lymphoma Society.  It is also her 36th birthday.  We are so unbelievably proud of her and her dedication to this cause.  She is running for a little boy named Will.  He was diagnosed with leukemia earlier this year.  She started her training with the goal of walking the 1/2, but decided that as much as she disliked running and making the time to train, Will didn't have a choice of whether or not to have his chemo treatments. If he could take the pain and discomfort, then so could she.  She is running with a good friend, Jamie, and several other friends have decided to meet them in San Fran to cheer them on and to hang with them as the spa it up and do a little wine country trip.  I am very jealous about that fun part of the trip.  What a great birthday present!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happiest of Birthday's Bubba!  We love you and are sooo proud of you!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-8775518700879037729?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/8775518700879037729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=8775518700879037729' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8775518700879037729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/8775518700879037729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/10/run-bubba-run.html' title='Run Bubba Run'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPuHAApjHAI/AAAAAAAAAEw/XbovRDsmVSk/s72-c/100_2482.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-2284192299912007843</id><published>2008-10-16T09:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T09:36:37.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfection....</title><content type='html'>Why? Why do I get a vision in my head and then truly believe that this perfect vision can be achieved? It's the Martha Stewart complex. I think that it really is a medically diagnosed complex. Now, I &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; that Martha has a boat load of lackies that do her bidding, but I honestly think that I should be able to do the same with, ummm, just me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We took Christmas card pictures this weekend. They did not turn out as planned. Imagine that. 3 kids....2 of them beyond tired....1 of them old enough to know better.....1 snotty nose....zero great pictures. My vision was for the 3 beautiful childern to be walking hand in hand with glorious sun shining and wonderful trees in the back ground. This is what I got.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257790721345069346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdszdkeISI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/FG2atvfg9p8/s320/100_2542.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257790728736973378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdsz5G1okI/AAAAAAAAAEY/Yh2gP1XEu9o/s320/100_2544.jpg" border="0" /&gt;No trees. No Nate.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257790731866046690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPds0Ew3gOI/AAAAAAAAAEg/IdTP7TAc5xk/s320/100_2547.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257790736267920770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPds0VKWxYI/AAAAAAAAAEo/JHrEMuMW-Io/s320/100_2554.jpg" border="0" /&gt;A very classy picture of snot.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'll bet you can't wait to see what picture made it into our Christmas card.  Coming in December to a mailbox near you!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-2284192299912007843?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/2284192299912007843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=2284192299912007843' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2284192299912007843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/2284192299912007843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/10/perfection.html' title='Perfection....'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdszdkeISI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/FG2atvfg9p8/s72-c/100_2542.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-7126675877717458890</id><published>2008-10-16T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T09:21:02.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Bubba's house we bowl?</title><content type='html'>The kids and I decided to make a last minute trip to my sisters house in Des Moines this past weekend. I am so thankful that my mom was able to make the trip with us. I thought that I would do fine with them all by myself, but 4 1/2 hrs in the car is just a bit much for the boys....and Ellie.....and me. Once we were to our final destination, a fabulous time was had by all! We spent a lot of time outside, just relaxing and enjoying the weather and the company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found out that my children are very musical. Especially Nate. The boys played the piano (nicely!) and Nate loved it when Uncle Jeff played his guitar. He was a great help to Jeff as they strummed the chords together. Nate, Zak and Ella totally rocked out with the Guitar Hero guitars. They were a hoot! We sang karaoke on Friday night and Nate stole the spotlight with his wonderful singing. He was very mad when we had to take the microphone away so that he could go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday we decided to go bowling. I am pretty sure that we are crazy... It was a lot of fun and the boys lasted about 8 frames. Zak got second place with an 87! I can already see the Pro Bowler's Tour in our future. Here are a few (and I mean a zillion) pics from our outing....&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257784206480707426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdm4PzxD2I/AAAAAAAAADQ/1wbxAncCm7M/s200/100_2569.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nate and Zak.....I didn't know that the Amish bowled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257784208170648322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdm4WGrgwI/AAAAAAAAADY/8I-QACwMMJQ/s200/100_2571.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Those shoes totally go with that outfit. It's all about the accessories....&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257784212537538930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdm4mX0-XI/AAAAAAAAADg/UqN3Pdpwq8Q/s200/100_2573.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Ready. Set. Bowl!&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257784215871932642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdm4yyzyOI/AAAAAAAAADo/LDzZgfKbQiM/s200/100_2574.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Ellie bowling left handed. My girl is talented.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257784223004427778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdm5NXVBgI/AAAAAAAAADw/MrZgARTizKU/s200/100_2579.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Nate needed some moral support.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257784635987683426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdnRP2NaGI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Bg_XnVeR4t8/s200/100_2583.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Zak cooling off like a pro.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257784637431614162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdnRVOeCtI/AAAAAAAAAEA/IIewJ-NgF48/s200/100_2585.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Nate was worn out after a hard fought bowling battle. He came in 4th.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257784647690460738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdnR7cXnkI/AAAAAAAAAEI/BTBV-_YyCrc/s200/100_2586.jpg" border="0" /&gt;My niece Sophie has the best form of them all. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We came home on Sunday. I was sooooo glad to be home. The last leg of the trip (Omaha to Grandma's house to our house) was a long one with lots of DADEEEEE, DADEEEEE, DADEEEE screamed in my ear. The John Deere movies helped for about 73 seconds.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;All in all, it was a great trip and we had fun. That's what counts, isn't it? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-7126675877717458890?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/7126675877717458890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=7126675877717458890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/7126675877717458890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/7126675877717458890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/10/to-bubbas-house-we-bowl.html' title='To Bubba&apos;s house we bowl?'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SPdm4PzxD2I/AAAAAAAAADQ/1wbxAncCm7M/s72-c/100_2569.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-3232091574019434566</id><published>2008-10-04T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T22:16:01.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>They call him Daddy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SOhJ4-nbF4I/AAAAAAAAAC4/mue7dKCMKzc/s1600-h/100_2504.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253530208557537154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SOhJ4-nbF4I/AAAAAAAAAC4/mue7dKCMKzc/s320/100_2504.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;DaDEE, DaDEE, DaDEE.....That is all I hear from the moment Kevin walks in the door for lunch until long after he has gone back to work. Zak is just giddy over the fact that Daddy is home. Nathan is excited as well, but Zak is beyond happy that his favorite person is around. They follow Kevin everywhere he goes from the minute he walks in. They have to sit near or on Kevin as he eats his lunch. They watch him wash his hands. They watch the news with him. They go with him while he puts on his boots and they watch him walk out the door. That is when the fun really begins.....for at least a half hour after Kevin walks out the door, the boys scream and wail and act distraught. They honestly forget about the one who birthed them, gets up in the night with them, nurses their boo-boo's, feeds them, diapers them, clothes them........it's like I don't exist when Kevin is around. Some days I am perfectly fine with that. I need a break from all the feeding and the diapering and the mom-ing and such. I am so happy that they love him so very much. Ellie wasn't so into her father for a long time, so it is nice that they actually want him to participate in their lives. I never get jealous....I just think that there will probably be a day that they won't love us and that they will be embarassed to be seen with us and that we will have "totally ruined their lives!" Although Ellie recently told me that she never wanted to leave me. That she would probably go to college in Hastings, because she has to live near me and that she will never, EVER hate me. Ahhh the dreams of a 1st grader. It is such a gift to be loved unconditionally and I try to remind myself to cherish these moments, because they will not last forever.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SOhJ5ZPe03I/AAAAAAAAADA/S4hb76W2V70/s1600-h/100_2523.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253530215704875890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SOhJ5ZPe03I/AAAAAAAAADA/S4hb76W2V70/s320/100_2523.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what happens when Kevin leaves...Fun Times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SOhJ5mJIBJI/AAAAAAAAADI/l5z5G98sOqw/s1600-h/100_2527.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253530219167876242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SOhJ5mJIBJI/AAAAAAAAADI/l5z5G98sOqw/s320/100_2527.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, where did my dad go?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before I sign off, a cute little Ella story. Last night we sat down to eat supper and asked Ella to say the prayer for us. Okay mom.... "Now I lay me down to sleep. Heavenly angels watch over me. Amen." It's just how my girl rolls. She has even been known to say the Table Prayer before bed. That's why we love her so much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;K &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-3232091574019434566?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/3232091574019434566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=3232091574019434566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3232091574019434566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/3232091574019434566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/10/they-call-him-daddy.html' title='They call him Daddy.'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SOhJ4-nbF4I/AAAAAAAAAC4/mue7dKCMKzc/s72-c/100_2504.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3640309585339726878.post-4853940254086728697</id><published>2008-09-26T13:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T19:42:07.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome Welcome!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Welcome friends to my first attempt as a blogger. I never thought that I would actually do something like this. I don't consider myself computer savy by any means. I freak out everytime I download pictures from my camera, wondering where in the world they will end up.... But still, here I am, ready to lay it all out on the line, so that my friends and family can enjoy the calamity, the chaos, the comedy that I simply call "Everyday life at the Kissinger's. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Life with a beautiful 6yo daughter, 19mos old twin sons, a hard working farmer husband, and an adorable, smelly dog is never dull. Most days I wish that it was. I could use some serious dullness....and a nap.....and a Dt. Dr Pepper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I am living the life that I never dreamed of. I did not want to marry a farmer....I did not want to live in a rural area (G-vil's population of 327 smiling, happy people is a far cry from the 800+ that D-town boasted).....I did not want to live within spitting distance of my inlaws.....I did not want 3 children.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God had a different plan for me. A very different plan. A plan that I am neither privy to, nor one that I have not always been pleased with. But it is His plan and I am making the best of it. Honestly, I love the life that I never dreamed of. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I love my husband, even when he is cranky, or stubborn, or works to much, or doesn't like what I made for supper. He is a good man, he loves God, adores his children,and he loves me more than I deserve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I love the slow pace of rural NE. I love the quiet. I love that I can take the kids for a walk down the middle of a gravel road and not worry about traffic. I love that people wave at you whether they know you or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I love that we are surrounded by family. Okay, so maybe I don't &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;love&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; being literally surrounded by family, but I love that we are close. My parent's are near as well. Having family here is a truly a gift. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I love, love, love my 3 kids....more and more each day. When I look at them, I see great works of art created by the Master's hand. I am so blessed to be their mom. I am so fortunate to be able to stay at home with them...to witness all of their joy and pain, wonder and amazement, delight and torment. I am in awe of each of them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;** Ellie just stated that she was "startled by the look of her wedding dress". Uhh what? She is working on her computer and is having a perfectly logical conversation with the characters she is dressing up. Not a dull moment folks....**&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I thought that I might give you a little glimpse into our daily life. Here is what happens when you give your twins a snack and think that you might possibly have enough time to quickly check your email. &lt;strong&gt;Never Leave Them Alone.......&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250504545979043266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SN2KEPKnjcI/AAAAAAAAABE/G5UvjMCCv3A/s320/100_2427.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Ummmmm, that glass was full when I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250507713814274658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SN2M8oRZImI/AAAAAAAAABM/Q15FV5HLwV0/s320/100_2428.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But Mommy, it is so pretty!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250507719127660066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SN2M88EM9iI/AAAAAAAAABU/JPtdeSPpsPg/s320/100_2434.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Zachary showing us that milk slurpped from your highchair tray is GOOOOOOOD!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250507718933694722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SN2M87V9SQI/AAAAAAAAABc/duYVQUreMvA/s320/100_2444.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nate cleaning up his mess. Trying to teach them accountablity early......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250507723969281666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SN2M9OGiPoI/AAAAAAAAABk/tx19EVgFQT8/s320/100_2448.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nate admiring his work. Zak picking his nose.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250507724952987394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SN2M9RxEZwI/AAAAAAAAABs/2EuCR04ZKrw/s320/100_2449.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Zak getting the hard places. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Until next time.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Kara&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3640309585339726878-4853940254086728697?l=karakarabobara.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/feeds/4853940254086728697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3640309585339726878&amp;postID=4853940254086728697' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4853940254086728697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3640309585339726878/posts/default/4853940254086728697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://karakarabobara.blogspot.com/2008/09/welcome-welcome.html' title='Welcome Welcome!!'/><author><name>Kara K</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04768686508133561654</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/TFTXc7yAYvI/AAAAAAAAAK8/K0EsY08v5SM/S220/DSC05552+copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_y97jG6EBM4M/SN2KEPKnjcI/AAAAAAAAABE/G5UvjMCCv3A/s72-c/100_2427.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
