<?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-2396392094902311837</id><updated>2011-11-27T15:19:56.848-08:00</updated><category term='sturgeon'/><category term='medicine hat'/><category term='cancer'/><category term='babies'/><category term='children'/><category term='pregnant'/><category term='papa'/><category term='13th'/><category term='gas'/><category term='brother'/><category term='husband'/><category term='married'/><category term='candy apples'/><category term='best friends'/><category term='proposal'/><category term='jasper'/><category term='blogging'/><category term='born'/><category term='love'/><category term='grandpa'/><category term='hospital'/><category term='dominican'/><category term='funeral'/><title type='text'>Diary of a Palmeroni</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-4663643858162807383</id><published>2009-05-14T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T14:05:14.772-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shrine Circus</title><content type='html'>So we took Makayla to her very first circus and she was quite in aw despite Mommy's circus shows she puts on, on a daily basis. You know like when you hear a good rock song and you bust out into air guitar singing and dancing and thrashing your head around. Or times where I roam around the room on all fours roaring like the tiger I am and chasing the kids or giving them horsey back rides, good times. Oh right back to the actual circus. So that morning when we woke up all day I prepped her saying we are going to the circus that night. She was so excited cheering "yay circus" all day, even though she had no clue what I was talking about. But hey, mommy is excited so I will be too! So I pack the kids in the car mid day to do a quick grocery run and of course Makayla is saying "yay circus!" all the way there. Then when she realizes we are JUST going shopping at Walmart, she breaks out in tears and says "circus mommy". Oh dear. She does not yet understand the term "later" after that day I think she did. So, finally the time comes where mommy and daddy are just taking Makayla on a circus date. She is thrilled and gets in the car and was fast asleep in seconds. As some of you know, my daughter has now opted out of her naps...yup the sad time has come where she NEVER naps anymore, although she needs one, she refuses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we get there, wake her up and she is still excited the moment she wakes and we run the 100 meter dash to the doors in the pouring rain. According to daddy we must buy her a light up souvenir even though they are outrageously over priced at $10 each when I am sure you can get the same thing at the dollar store. We get our seats and grab some cotton candy, you know for Makayla, of course not for Justin and I, my God we HATE sweets...yeah...I hate sweets...pff okay. Makaylas eyes lit up when she seen the big elephants and was over whelmed by that and all the people and Landon and Josh were there, she was in her little bit of heaven. So we all sat there was blue tongues from the cotton candy..agh hum...I mean...Makaylas tongue was blue, after all we hate sweets. Okay, who am I kidding Justin and I never grew up and we are still like a bunch of 10 year olds, just as excited as Makayla about the circus and cotton candy and cool light up toy!! Once the circus began and there were lights and people dancing and jumping rope and high on trapezes and clowns and puppy's the look on her face was amazing...it filled my heart with so much joy to see her eyes full of excitement and the suspense she would feel as people were thrown into the air and her little legs jumping with the people jumping rope and her breaking out in a dance to the music from time to time. It was amazing! We all had the time of our life! Every moment was captured in my memory and stored in my heart forever!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyD_ui9m-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/h2RNjhLEGsk/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+258.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyD_ui9m-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/h2RNjhLEGsk/s320/pics+dec+02+08+258.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335784789376867298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyEgKKXcuI/AAAAAAAAAEM/6c9aehYKnt4/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+261.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyEgKKXcuI/AAAAAAAAAEM/6c9aehYKnt4/s320/pics+dec+02+08+261.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785346545709794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyEU-xLhkI/AAAAAAAAAEE/hcBmHmnvwiE/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+259.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyEU-xLhkI/AAAAAAAAAEE/hcBmHmnvwiE/s320/pics+dec+02+08+259.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785154508719682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyEu8J_kII/AAAAAAAAAEU/MlbJfsrlgBU/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+262.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyEu8J_kII/AAAAAAAAAEU/MlbJfsrlgBU/s320/pics+dec+02+08+262.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785600484085890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyE7kJ5xCI/AAAAAAAAAEc/duuM32Ilric/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+263.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyE7kJ5xCI/AAAAAAAAAEc/duuM32Ilric/s320/pics+dec+02+08+263.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335785817379554338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyFKJaQd_I/AAAAAAAAAEk/cJ5tSNx4DB0/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+265.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyFKJaQd_I/AAAAAAAAAEk/cJ5tSNx4DB0/s320/pics+dec+02+08+265.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335786067898431474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyFdieavTI/AAAAAAAAAEs/eL96kx35dts/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+266.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyFdieavTI/AAAAAAAAAEs/eL96kx35dts/s320/pics+dec+02+08+266.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335786401044282674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyFsLdNKOI/AAAAAAAAAE0/zMUrLKcBy_Q/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+269.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyFsLdNKOI/AAAAAAAAAE0/zMUrLKcBy_Q/s320/pics+dec+02+08+269.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335786652563220706" 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/2396392094902311837-4663643858162807383?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/4663643858162807383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/05/shrine-circus.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/4663643858162807383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/4663643858162807383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/05/shrine-circus.html' title='Shrine Circus'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SgyD_ui9m-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/h2RNjhLEGsk/s72-c/pics+dec+02+08+258.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-1876451524160864342</id><published>2009-05-03T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T19:32:51.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Love</title><content type='html'>There can not be anything more precious then your little girl wrapping her arms tightly around your neck and saying "big squeeze" and then giving you a sweet kiss and topping it all of with an "I love you mommy". And doing it all on her own free will. It doesnt get any greater then this. I love my children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2396392094902311837-1876451524160864342?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/1876451524160864342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/05/love-love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/1876451524160864342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/1876451524160864342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/05/love-love.html' title='Love Love'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-2395121754896508101</id><published>2009-04-29T14:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T15:16:37.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Justins Grandparents</title><content type='html'>So apparently I am a blogging machine! Today we are going on to talk about Grandma and Grandpa Palmer, the sweetest people anyone could ever ask to have in their life. I am so fortunate to now call them my family. With great sorrow we lost &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Justin's&lt;/span&gt; Grandma to cancer last August. She was one tough cookie, no one even knew how ill she was until she could not fight her battle anymore. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Justin's&lt;/span&gt; Grandpa is also a strong man as he has had to adjust to not being with the love of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets start by telling you what I got to know of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Justin's&lt;/span&gt; Grandma in the time I knew her. First and far most she is one of the most stubborn strong headed lady I have ever met. I mean when her mind was made up there was no changing it, no arguing, it was just the way it was&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SfjQT6nK5HI/AAAAAAAAAD0/F9h4IO92Rws/s1600-h/new+090.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SfjQT6nK5HI/AAAAAAAAAD0/F9h4IO92Rws/s200/new+090.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330239199562622066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; going to be. I will never forget the time in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; when I was about 8 months pregnant with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Makayla&lt;/span&gt;. Here we are standing in line, me with a few new maternity clothing items and her with a few of her own items. Suddenly I feel a tugging on the clothes I am about to buy...it was Grandma, she says here give them to me. I say...no no its okay, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; to buy them for me. Oh but her mind was already made up. She says no just give them to me. Me also known for being a bit stubborn but also respectful was like...no no...I am going to buy them. Before you know it, heads are turning in line as she is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;litterly&lt;/span&gt; tugging on one end of the clothes and me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;scared&lt;/span&gt; and holding on to the other end. I thought man this in one tough lady I think she may knock me out if I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; give up these clothes. She starts to talk a wee bit louder...in a firm tone with her strong &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Scottish&lt;/span&gt; accent says...just give them to me!! I gave in!! I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; know what to do...I coward...I thought if I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; we would be there all day because she was not going to give it up. I think she would have put me in a death choke if I never gave in...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;. She is such a giving lady and so caring and we miss her so very much! She use to love shopping, especially for her great grandchildren, we would always get packages in the mail and I think she was just as excited to know if we liked them as she was buying them. I will tell you, Grandma was always with the times, she choose some of the best outfits for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Makayla&lt;/span&gt;. She also had a ton of friends and spread the word very quickly about her great grandchildren and we would get packages in the mail from people we never even knew, she was so proud. Another thing I clearly remember about Grandma was her love for Justin. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;mean&lt;/span&gt; there was nothing that Justin could do wrong, he was truly an angel in her eyes...maybe his halo a little crooked at times but an angel. Anything Justin wanted he got, the world stopped when Justin spoke and he was her little boy. Grandma also had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;spidey&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;senses&lt;/span&gt;...like you know superman hearing...she could hear you whisper something from Vancouver while we were still in Edmonton. She was always on top of her game. She was always so open, so willing to give the best advise she could while doing it from her heart without stepping on toes. She loved her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;KFC&lt;/span&gt;, she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;adored&lt;/span&gt; her husband, she looked out for her kids and was a great friend, great mom, awesome Grandma always up for shopping and loved to find that great deal, she liked crosswords, liked to sing a good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt; tune, she was always up for some fish and chips like a good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt; Scottish girl, liked nice jewellery, was a good story teller and liked to have a good laugh.  She was so full of love and life and we think about her often and miss her dearly but we will always hold her close to our hearts and in our thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on to Grandpa, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Justin's&lt;/span&gt; superhero in a little old mans body. He is the guy you can count on for anything, he was always there for Justin and has never let him down, he the grandpa made up in ones dreams. He is a handsome old man, especially when he has his teeth in. Grandpa is always looking out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;fo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;r you&lt;/span&gt;, always willing to give you his sweater if you are cold, always making sure you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; not hungry because if you are he will be the first to get up and fry you some bacon. He is the most genuine loving grandpa I have known. I will never forget how much he loved hi&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SfjPK1wJHcI/AAAAAAAAADk/KjBjRbBF2iI/s1600-h/new+082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SfjPK1wJHcI/AAAAAAAAADk/KjBjRbBF2iI/s200/new+082.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330237944127626690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;s wife and cute they were together. I remember when we were at their place and he gave her a good smack to the ass as she bent over to fix the couch and as she smirked and turned around he simply says it was not me. It was so cute and touching...who would have thought another persons love tap could mean so much to me. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;. Grandpa also has many friends and gets together with his boys weekly at the pub for a couple of beers. He also makes a killer soup and is quite the chef. It was so amazing to see Grandpa sitting with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Kelton&lt;/span&gt; in his lap on the recliner when we were there last, just because Justin always told me he did the same with him.We wish he was closer so we could spend more time with him as anyone is blessed to have him in their life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2396392094902311837-2395121754896508101?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/2395121754896508101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/justins-grandparents.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/2395121754896508101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/2395121754896508101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/justins-grandparents.html' title='Justins Grandparents'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SfjQT6nK5HI/AAAAAAAAAD0/F9h4IO92Rws/s72-c/new+090.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-7832756554747613748</id><published>2009-04-22T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T14:22:33.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Baba</title><content type='html'>Well it is mine and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Justin's&lt;/span&gt; belief that we have done a favor to the world by breeding and I am so happy to have told you all about our little off spring. Today we are moving on to another very important lady in my life, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Baba&lt;/span&gt; aka Grandma aka Grams. My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Baba&lt;/span&gt; has always been a very important role model in my life and she has always been a part of my life as far as my memory can take me.   My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Baba&lt;/span&gt; is a very hard working farm girl, there is nothing that ever holds her back. She is nearing 85 and still does things that some 20 year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; can't do. I do see how time has taken a toll on my Grandma though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a child my mom would drive me up there every summer to spend some time with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Baba&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Gedo&lt;/span&gt;. Sometimes my cousin Jeanine would also get dropped off and we would create some wonderful summer time memories. You must understand my Grandma lives in rural Saskatchewan in a small village of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Foston&lt;/span&gt;...you ask where is that..I would say...just outside of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Wadena&lt;/span&gt;...then you say where is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Wadena&lt;/span&gt;? Well that is just outside of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Humbolt&lt;/span&gt;...you ask well where is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Humbolt&lt;/span&gt;?...well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Humbolt&lt;/span&gt; is in the middle of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;freakin&lt;/span&gt; no where...it is Saskatchewan after all. Okay my Grandma lives a 2+ hour drive out of Saskatoon...you must have heard of that city!! Her Village...consists of maybe 50 people living there (Village..odd odd word... I think of scary little village people that would chase you through the wheat fields) and everyone is quite old, its only a matter of time where someone is going to have to turn the lights out when they leave by leave I mean pass away. Grandmas house was built by my grandpas hard working hands and she would fight you tooth and nail to never have to leave that house. She loves it there and it always has been a home away from home for all of us &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;grandkids&lt;/span&gt;. Not much has changed in it...it is always so comforting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a lot of memories at my Grandmas like picking peas in the garden and sitting on a bench outside and shelling them in the warm summer sun. Also times with cousins, Jeanine and I would fight over who got to help bake with Grandma until it ended up in Jeanine getting angry and running away on Grandmas bike, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;. Jeanine and I also would ride on grandmas riding lawn mower unti&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SfjEd7Iie9I/AAAAAAAAADc/RuZst5zWAwI/s1600-h/ttt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SfjEd7Iie9I/AAAAAAAAADc/RuZst5zWAwI/s200/ttt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330226177361738706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;l it ran out of gas, we would make traffic signs in the trees and one person would ride the bike.  I also recall Amy and I deciding it would be a great idea for us to sleep in the bed in one of the sheds...well the idea was short lived when we got freaked out by all the mice traps and were certain we were going to get eaten alive by mice as we slept. Grandma also would do her little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;grandchildren&lt;/span&gt; hair in those old fashioned rollers the night before church so our hair would be pretty for church the next day. That is also one thing that was always for certain at Grandmas, Sunday meant church. Actually, after a Sunday service when I was maybe around the age of 8 I recall the Pastor talking about giving yourself to Christ, that day after church I went upstairs at my Grandmas and asked Jesus into my heart and became a Christian. Although a Christian it did not mean that us cousins when together were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt; close to perfect angels. On several occasions I remember me and my cousin Jeanine sitting in church with our hair all done in perfect little curls that grandma did the night before, with our cute &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Sunday&lt;/span&gt; dresses on sitting in utter feel as we heard the train &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;whistle&lt;/span&gt; echo through the church terrified it was going to derail and crash into and wipe out the little old town of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Foston&lt;/span&gt;. you must wonder why we feared such a thing...well these cute little girls must have had a little devil version of them whispering in their ear to put rocks..big rocks...on the train track to see what would happen. Well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt; happened and as the train left taking our fear with it we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; start into no stop giggling, in turn causing grandma to give us the you behave yourself eye. So my Grandmas place is full of wonderful memories including one where Jeanine and I decided it would be funny to give my poor poor grandma a scare in the middle of the night...yup we were mean... we stacked plastic cups up on the inside of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;cupboard&lt;/span&gt; so that when she went to get her nightly glass of water that the cups would all come crashing down &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;on her&lt;/span&gt;. When I think back of that idea, if was really quite mean of us trying to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;scare&lt;/span&gt; a poor old lady who is half asleep int he middle of the night...naughty girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So besides my grandams quaint beautiful house she is also left me with many cherished memories and lessons. I will never forget the one time I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;over&lt;/span&gt; heard my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Baba&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Gedo&lt;/span&gt; fighting over something silly...then Grandma storming out of the house to only come back in minutes later with a flower from the garden and tears in her eyes to say sorry and give my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;Gedo&lt;/span&gt; a big hug. It was the sweetest thing I have ever seen, they were so perfect for each other. I always admired their love for one another. Grandma is also a brave lady who looks bugs spiders and mice in the eye with absolutely no fear and simply gets rid of them. I love my grandma for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; she is and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt; she has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;taught&lt;/span&gt; me about life and love and motherhood. We have always been able to talk so well together, from the time I was 10 years old lying in her bed upstairs at night wit mints in our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;checks&lt;/span&gt; till now when I call her and we talk and talk about being a mom a wife and about life in general. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;truly&lt;/span&gt; am blessed to have her in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2396392094902311837-7832756554747613748?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/7832756554747613748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-baba.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/7832756554747613748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/7832756554747613748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-baba.html' title='My Baba'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SfjEd7Iie9I/AAAAAAAAADc/RuZst5zWAwI/s72-c/ttt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-2019555803069926139</id><published>2009-04-14T14:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T18:34:50.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A picture tells a thousand things</title><content type='html'>Here is some random pictures of what I see in my future, my goals my dreams all by pictures. They say...if you think about your goals they will happen. Basically the universe works together with your thoughts. Here is my montage...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:EbRndgMQvUHJkM:http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l23/dazzlejunction/greetings/family/family-blessing.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 124px;" src="http://tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:EbRndgMQvUHJkM:http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l23/dazzlejunction/greetings/family/family-blessing.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:1tSAMkF51wLBnM:http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee238/profilekiss/graphics/Girly/Romance/romance_aao.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 126px; height: 95px;" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:1tSAMkF51wLBnM:http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee238/profilekiss/graphics/Girly/Romance/romance_aao.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:pkU-AwO2wJtaaM:http://www.skydive-dc.com/SunsetTandem.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 93px;" src="http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:pkU-AwO2wJtaaM:http://www.skydive-dc.com/SunsetTandem.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:d_tS2426C8eiXM:http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSjbKemZ_cI/SGnHWdhA2SI/AAAAAAAABOw/a2p2ToTy9n8/s400/sweet-babies-sleeping-together.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 93px;" src="http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:d_tS2426C8eiXM:http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KSjbKemZ_cI/SGnHWdhA2SI/AAAAAAAABOw/a2p2ToTy9n8/s400/sweet-babies-sleeping-together.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:c33tNPBYJu9J7M:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3283/3045608691_4d61a197ff.jpg%3Fv%3D0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 88px;" src="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:c33tNPBYJu9J7M:http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3283/3045608691_4d61a197ff.jpg%3Fv%3D0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:Ym7dviS2tzQtUM:http://z.hubpages.com/u/25879_f260.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 102px; height: 115px;" src="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:Ym7dviS2tzQtUM:http://z.hubpages.com/u/25879_f260.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:MnUFu9fwRP-lwM:http://www.sprague.wednet.edu/Student%2520Download/I%2520Wish%2520I%2520Were%2520Rich/WS/disneyland.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 138px;" src="http://tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:MnUFu9fwRP-lwM:http://www.sprague.wednet.edu/Student%2520Download/I%2520Wish%2520I%2520Were%2520Rich/WS/disneyland.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:s_nAKGacTL1Y8M:http://www.spacetoday.org/images/Mars/MarsRovers2003/MarsRoverOpportunityLaunch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 102px;" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:s_nAKGacTL1Y8M:http://www.spacetoday.org/images/Mars/MarsRovers2003/MarsRoverOpportunityLaunch.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:vIDiUUnhXRVLJM:http://www.thinkinglike.com/Incorporation-Cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 86px; height: 129px;" src="http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:vIDiUUnhXRVLJM:http://www.thinkinglike.com/Incorporation-Cover.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:QjzEqs5SIohrTM:http://hellforleathermagazine.com/images/big_honda_cbr_rr_pista_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 94px;" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:QjzEqs5SIohrTM:http://hellforleathermagazine.com/images/big_honda_cbr_rr_pista_2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:6HLmTk11hUfHDM:http://www.greenwichctdentist.com/images/slideshow/slideShow_smile.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 98px;" src="http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:6HLmTk11hUfHDM:http://www.greenwichctdentist.com/images/slideshow/slideShow_smile.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:GmSjNV1e55wCkM:http://media.canada.com/6c8714d8-471c-4ede-8876-90dda09eae8f/mxz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 122px; height: 122px;" src="http://tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:GmSjNV1e55wCkM:http://media.canada.com/6c8714d8-471c-4ede-8876-90dda09eae8f/mxz.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:Q-mzZokBZ3kf9M:http://www.lifeph7.com/BrokenheartCDCover.jpg/BrokenheartCDCover-full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; 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float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 127px;" src="http://tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ShfHeRU-oH85LM:http://www.campusliving.com.au/clvAustraliaNZ/global_images/campus_images/killer_travel.jpg" alt="" 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/2396392094902311837-2019555803069926139?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/2019555803069926139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/picture-tells-thousand-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/2019555803069926139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/2019555803069926139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/picture-tells-thousand-things.html' title='A picture tells a thousand things'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-3576417446342736090</id><published>2009-04-13T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T13:54:06.189-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My lil monkey</title><content type='html'>Well moving on with life, Justin and I had our little family consisting of the two of us Makayla and Machete.  That summer Makayla was about 8 months old and I started to feel really sick all the time. Like I am talking in the middle of the night extreme stomach pain and not knowing which end is going to burst first. I get better ignore it, and it would always come right back and of course, me being me...I would ignore it again. Come September I was so sick I went to the doctor and he sent me for some blood work, a few things came back abnormal and he sent me for further tests. I was all booked in for an ultrasound because they are thinking at this time I may have gallstones or maybe something along those lines. Let me take you there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am lying there, having to pee so badly that I can not really think of anything else. I really concentrate with every inch of my soul to not just let go of that pee and feel the relief...but oh it would really feel good. My mind wonders...has anyone ever had to pee so badly that they just could not hold it and some came out, but it felt so good that they continue to go. Hmm. Oh back to whats happening. So...the ultra sound tech is looking and looking, she kept going to the same side on the right up high and then really far down low.  I am starting to think something is not right, she is not talking anymore. When I first came in she was talking an awful lot, asking me all about Makayla and if I wanted anymore...blah blah blah. She leaves the room and calmly says I will be right back. I stare at the ceiling thinking oh God, something is wrong, what if it is cancer, or what if it is something that will completely change my life and flip it upside down, oh God, something is up. My heart pounding so hard I look at the clock it was 11:17. She enters back into the room with a doctor in tow, I instantly start to sweat and that pee that I had to pee so bad suddenly disappeared. He says to me...so Mrs Palmer, we see that it looks as though you have gallstones and did you also know you are pregnant? Ahhh what? I am what? You are pregnant. Oh um no, how did this happen...I mean I know HOW it happens but how did this happen to me? I have not even had my monthly visitor back yet, I mean Makayla was still nursing and only 9 months old. I sit there blown away by the news, the nurse keeps asking me if I am okay, like I had just been given the worst news of my life, however I did tell her we wanted more babies just not right away. I gather my things get dressed and head home. All the way home my hands are shaking and thoughts racing. I come in, to be greeted by my mom who was babysitting at the time. She asks if everything is okay, I nod and say I guess we will see what the doc says because I wanted to talk to Justin first. So I put Makayla for a nap and I start to think of how can I tell him the news, he will be home shortly, what should I do. So he comes home, I ask him to kindly check on the dinner in the oven, he opens the door and closes it and turns to look at me so puzzled and says there is only a bun in the oven. I say there is what? He says it again, a bun in the....pause.... you are pregnant!!! he shouts! He hugs me and is so happy, actually shockingly happy. I start to cry and say oh my God what are we going to do, we need this and that and what about Makayla. After about a week I start liking the idea but not liking how sick I was. For the remainder of my pregnancy I was in and out of hospital, loosing weight, getting morphine to cope with the pain and wishing that it would just go away. Being as Justin had always wanted to know the sex of the baby and I didn't it was his turn so during the ultrasound the lady showed us the baby...the head, the legs, the tummy the arms and then finally the little cute penis...yup it was a boy!! Justin was like we are having a boy! He was so thrilled, the look on his face was amazing, it lit right up and I was so thrilled as well...our baby boy...Kelton William Leo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT1UMW7ZzI/AAAAAAAAACs/9gZgvfh_JvM/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+728.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT1UMW7ZzI/AAAAAAAAACs/9gZgvfh_JvM/s200/pics+dec+02+08+728.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324650386722350898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June 9th 2008 I went in for my scheduled c section and delivered a healthy 7 pd baby boy. Let me tell you that as smooth as a c section should be, mine was not so smooth, this kid did not want to come out and I am certain he was holding on to my interstines or somthing with all his might. The doctors were pushing and pushing, sweating and pushing some more. My body was sliding down the table as she(the doc) had a male assistant using his body weight to push down obn my stomach. Justin had to leave the room as the thought of it was making him feel nautious.  After a while they finally did manage to get him out after using forceps and he was all bruised and cut up but as cute as I ever imagined him. Immediately after the c-section the closed me up and knocked me out and followed through &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT2cQYdu-I/AAAAAAAAAC0/ntiGikDpe8c/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+745.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT2cQYdu-I/AAAAAAAAAC0/ntiGikDpe8c/s200/pics+dec+02+08+745.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324651624753118178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;with taking my gallbladder out. Surprisingly I felt not to bad after a dual surgery. I was up and at em the same day. Kelton is a Mommy's boy, which daddy is okay with for the time being, but insists it changes by the age of 4. He has such a cute personality, he loves to snuggle and I think I love it even more then him. He is so well behaved and he is just mellow. We gave him the nickname Monkey since he was born, not sure why but it suits him. He knows how to flirt and loves to laugh and at just about anything. He already loves Machete and Makayla so &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT24N1u5mI/AAAAAAAAAC8/AopN6RjqH14/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+931.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT24N1u5mI/AAAAAAAAAC8/AopN6RjqH14/s200/pics+dec+02+08+931.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324652105106908770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;much and finds it funny when they play. There are times I look at him and he just takes my breathe away, he is amazing and perfect in every sense of the word. I can cry just thinking about him and not wanting him to grow up. He is and &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT3xCTHs_I/AAAAAAAAADE/afB9xxak0Jw/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+200.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT3xCTHs_I/AAAAAAAAADE/afB9xxak0Jw/s200/pics+dec+02+08+200.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324653081261487090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;always will be mommy little monkey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2396392094902311837-3576417446342736090?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/3576417446342736090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-lil-monkey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/3576417446342736090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/3576417446342736090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-lil-monkey.html' title='My lil monkey'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT1UMW7ZzI/AAAAAAAAACs/9gZgvfh_JvM/s72-c/pics+dec+02+08+728.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-3812347847854256386</id><published>2009-04-09T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T13:59:20.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Babies babies!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Now we are moving on to the loves of my life my babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I have to start by telling you about my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ver&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;y first baby, my hairy baby, Mach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ete&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Turbo Palmer.&lt;br /&gt;Justin and I we&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;re talking about getting a puppy for some time, I continuously dragged him into pet stores and would r&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd6bZ8haZ6I/AAAAAAAAACI/DIIeqvyAMIU/s1600-h/IMG.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd6bZ8haZ6I/AAAAAAAAACI/DIIeqvyAMIU/s200/IMG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322862679643809698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;amble on about how cute every dog was that I seen through the windows. I would also check the rescue &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;shelte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;rs all the ti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;me and my heart would melt over so many sad stories. So one day we were shopping in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kingsway&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; mall, we walk into the pet store there I see this cute cute little furry puppy. He looked like a dwarf golden retrieve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;r. I instantly fall in love. There was another female dog in the same kennel as him and he was so mellow he let her slap him around like you would not believe. I ask to hold him...he kisses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; me and looks at me with his big eyes and says take me home, how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;could my&lt;/span&gt; heart not melt for such a cute pupp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;y. So we talk about it, inside my mind is made&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; up, I go on a road trip with some girlfriends and say if he is there when we get back it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;destiny&lt;/span&gt;. Meanwhile, on my trip I call Justin I make him go back &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; make sure he is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd4kqWcImKI/AAAAAAAAAB4/PMARWduoPLg/s1600-h/new+168.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd4kqWcImKI/AAAAAAAAAB4/PMARWduoPLg/s320/new+168.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322732119595194530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;still there and I can not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;get my&lt;/span&gt; mind of this cute little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;fur &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ba&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ll&lt;/span&gt;. So I rush home, go straight there and get my best furry friend ever. He was so small and afraid t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;o come down the stairs so he would stand up &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;at the top and whimper. When he ran he ran sideways, it was so cute. Now he is all grown up and going to have his 3rd birthday next month. He is a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; very good dog and so good with the kids and lets me dress him up and make him look silly at times. He does have big dog syndrome where he acts so mighty over other dogs, must be his big personality shinning throug&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;h.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continuing on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; with me being pregnant.So my pregnancy was going fairly well for the most part besides the pimples of a 14 year old, yuck. Otherwise alright until near the end I was loosing some vision at times and at this time I went on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;disability&lt;/span&gt; in November. My due date was December 25t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;h...yes Christmas day, what a blessing. I always figured that God was sending me this perfect gift and this angel wanted &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd6cDrqoFdI/AAAAAAAAACQ/SbookfwlaQw/s1600-h/scan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 146px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd6cDrqoFdI/AAAAAAAAACQ/SbookfwlaQw/s200/scan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322863396673557970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;to share a birthday with none other then Jesus. Well Christmas came and went. I was getting larger and larger and more and more clumsy. One day just before an appointment Justin and I were walking to the vehicle and a giant rut in the road caus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; me to trip and fall right on my belly...I went to the hospital and was checked out and all was okay, besides some scrapes and bruises thank God! The new year began and I started to think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;at this baby was not going to come out..perhaps it was stuck...or maybe I was giving it to good of a home or maybe it was just that watermelon seed I swallowed 9 months earlier. On January 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; at 12 noon I go in to be induced, I have labour pains for 11 hours before I get an epidural and this kid still did &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; want to come out! During the course of my contractions the babies heart ra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;te would drop &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;significantly&lt;/span&gt; and my doctor already said that she did not think I was going to have a natural birth. So the last time it dropped, the doctor came back in and I went in for an emergency c section. At the time I was upset because I wanted to experience the birth in a natural way,now I have come to realize it is all okay. Then at 11:53pm my beautiful baby girl &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Makayla&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Rayne&lt;/span&gt; was born. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; when they told me it w&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;as girl I was shocked, I was nearly certain it was going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; be a boy. I had &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;dreams of boys and I felt mislead by the stupid old wives tales..never trust those. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Ahhh&lt;/span&gt; my little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Makayla&lt;/span&gt; as sweet as she looked I was positive she may have needed a priest and some holy water to help her get rid of a screaming demon inside...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;. That girl cried and cri&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT4Y8zP36I/AAAAAAAAADM/vfu8YaYdwHs/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+1564.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT4Y8zP36I/AAAAAAAAADM/vfu8YaYdwHs/s200/pics+dec+02+08+1564.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324653766980394914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ed...one day she cried for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; 14 hours with no break. Shortly after midnight my mom and I went trotting off to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;emergency&lt;/span&gt; certain there had to be something wrong with her because nothing at all made her happy and there was no break from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;monotonous&lt;/span&gt; screaming!! The docs look at her and come to the conclusion of yo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;ur&lt;/span&gt; baby is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT49f9Of4I/AAAAAAAAADU/f7PkekQBTKg/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+223.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SeT49f9Of4I/AAAAAAAAADU/f7PkekQBTKg/s200/pics+dec+02+08+223.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324654394892779394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;colicky&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Umm&lt;/span&gt;...say what...she is what? There &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; nothing you can do for this...come on there has got to be something perhaps some laughin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;g gas or medication that will knock her out. She is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;colicky&lt;/span&gt;? Does this mean I have to deal with this kind of behaviour forever? Plus this is only her first week of life...you got to be kidding me, this has to be some sort of joke. Nope no it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt;. After that, she seemed to get be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;tter&lt;/span&gt; and better as days went on, easier to tend to and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; and more mellow. Obviously God heard my prayers for patience and silence. Now she is 2 and full of energy, her big brown eyes warm my heart, her giggle touches my soul and her hugs and kisses make me feel like I am in Heaven. She is so beautiful and the best gift from God that anyone could ask for. She has such &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;perso&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;nality&lt;/span&gt; and has that same gift of the gab as her mommy and grandma do. To hear her little voice come &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; me and say mommy I love you...with no prompting just makes any amount of crying all worth while, even 1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd5UnDNFfMI/AAAAAAAAACA/uGefGFQMmpA/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+183.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd5UnDNFfMI/AAAAAAAAACA/uGefGFQMmpA/s320/pics+dec+02+08+183.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322784839450328258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;4 hours. She is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;daddy's&lt;/span&gt; little girl, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Mommy's&lt;/span&gt; princess, grandmas angel and papas sweetheart. I am sure you will here a lot more about her in days to come as she and her brother are the center of my universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2396392094902311837-3812347847854256386?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/3812347847854256386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/babies-babies.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/3812347847854256386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/3812347847854256386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/babies-babies.html' title='Babies babies!!'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd6bZ8haZ6I/AAAAAAAAACI/DIIeqvyAMIU/s72-c/IMG.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-7202321219963322156</id><published>2009-04-08T14:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T18:16:06.550-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dominican'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='candy apples'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='married'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='babies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pregnant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='proposal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jasper'/><title type='text'>I am getting good at this!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd0TFtkPboI/AAAAAAAAABo/-o2bVXIcPdI/s1600-h/Wedding+trip+219.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd0TFtkPboI/AAAAAAAAABo/-o2bVXIcPdI/s320/Wedding+trip+219.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322431323473669762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Alright...here we go again! I was in the middle of talking about my oh so wonderful husband. Justin and I met 5 years ago and our relationship progressed fairly quick. I always say how we met was by him stocking me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;until I gave in, not a far fetch really though, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;haha&lt;/span&gt;. Justin and I hit it off on the first night we met, we talked about out love for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cinnamon&lt;/span&gt; gum, adventure, motorcycles and everything that goes fast. We seemed to have quite a bit in common. However, Justin was not much of a sweep ya off your feet kind of guy and I was uncerta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;in of getting in a relationship at that time in my life. Justin has these gorgeous blue sometimes more green color eyes that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;pierced&lt;/span&gt; my soul and clearly won my heart over. I can tell you, he had something about him because I seen right past his socks with sandles...yup...read it again...socks and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sandals&lt;/span&gt;...but not only were they socks with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sandals&lt;/span&gt;...one was inside out and ...yikes...they were not even a matching pair. I sucked back a few tears that day but since then he has become much better at the sock thing, I match his socks and make sure they are the right way in, that poor soul. I also must share with you my hus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd6dbJ8b_uI/AAAAAAAAACg/Ae58L6MN2VU/s1600-h/Wedding+trip+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd6dbJ8b_uI/AAAAAAAAACg/Ae58L6MN2VU/s200/Wedding+trip+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322864899449945826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;bands mad love for candy apples...I have never seen someones knees go week and mouth salivate so much at the mere sight of a candy apple. One time on a holiday in Jasper, we had got some candy apples...Justin was right into it, smile on his face like a 5 year old kid, just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;given&lt;/span&gt; er on this candy apple when it flew off the stick and on to the hotel room floor, the apple was in slow motion rolling across the dirty dirty floor, Justin on hands and knees trying to catch up with his apple (at this time his face looked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;devastated&lt;/span&gt;) he gets it and with out a pause simply pulls the apple right up to his mouth and continues feasting.. Yup, my husband has a real love for candy apples, no hotel room floor could be dirty enough to resist him from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;scrumptious&lt;/span&gt; taste of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Carmel&lt;/span&gt; softening in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;his&lt;/span&gt; mouth and a crisp apples juices running down his chin. Anyhow, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;moving on&lt;/span&gt; from candy apples. After dating a few years we were so head over heels for each other enjoying life and everything about each other. We had just found out &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Justin's&lt;/span&gt; very sweet cousin Shannon and her hubby were pregnant, we were so happy for them and talked about the day we would have children of our own. Well, a few moths go by, I suspect I may be pregnant, we get a test, I can not sleep...I get up at the crack of dawn take the test and within seconds it shows positive! With that breathe taking moment I stand alone in the bathroom holding on to this stick...yes a stick...that changed my life, with my world spinning I do a karate kick to the bedroom door and rip Justin out of his peaceful sleep to say "Oh my God...I am pregnant!" Justin was quite happy and excited. Shortly after Justin proposed to me and we had a small wedding in the Dominican. It was both of our style, easy, cheap simple and the best part, we were married and together for all eternity. I can write a lot more about Justin but we would be here a long time, he is the most thoughtful husband and father and he is so talented at so many things, he is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Mr&lt;/span&gt; fix it and so smart at so many things he is my everything and I have been so blessed and lucky to have him as my husband. And this leads us to my next chapter...babies!! However those babies are preventing me from writing anymore, until my next post!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2396392094902311837-7202321219963322156?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/7202321219963322156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-getting-good-at-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/7202321219963322156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/7202321219963322156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-getting-good-at-this.html' title='I am getting good at this!!'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sd0TFtkPboI/AAAAAAAAABo/-o2bVXIcPdI/s72-c/Wedding+trip+219.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-8800599824842735132</id><published>2009-04-07T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T14:05:34.395-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandpa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='best friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='papa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gas'/><title type='text'>Continuing with important people in my life...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdvQmGxH6PI/AAAAAAAAABY/2vEphhhka3A/s1600-h/pics+327.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdvQmGxH6PI/AAAAAAAAABY/2vEphhhka3A/s320/pics+327.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322076737738631410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Okay here I am new day new post...once again children sleeping and me figuring out this blogging thing, it seems quite nice!! So many thoughts are randomly going through my mind as I think what can I write that is worthy of being blogged. I mean I am taking up other peoples time as they go on to read...maybe they don't maybe they start and just close it...hmm...must keep it interesteing...must get some faithful followers. continuing from yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have told you about my brother, my mom, my dad and now I move on to Donald Duck. Ahh yes Donald Duck...the nik name he was kindly given, weather he likes it or not...by sweet little me. He hated being called Donald...so I think I started calling him Donald when I found out his hate for it...just to ...well..you know bug him! Then I added duck...not sure why...maybe after he stepped on a few? Well my mom has always been Mammabear...sweet mammabear, so Don needed something too. Don and my mom were married when I was 13 and he has really been the best thing that has come into my moms life. I always feel so blessed to have had 2 wonderful fathers, my dad and Don. Don has tought me a lot growing up...like never to be late and when travelling hold your pee as long as humanly possible, and lets not forget if you say you are leaving at 7am be ready for 6:30am because chances are that Don will be waiting in the vehicle bags packed and becoming increasingly impatient. Oh one more thing...Don has tought me that as simple as getting gas may be it does not come natural to every one at all times and never trust anyone who is driving next to you in hollywood and shouting, even though they may just be doing a nice gesture like telling you your gas tank is open, look straight ahead and keep driving and one more thing when your wife gets mad at you spilling all the nuts on the car floor the floor suddenly becomes a not so bad place to eat off of especially if it makes her happy. Don is a very warm hearted man, always giving and always putting family first. One thing I know about Don is that his little granddaughter can melt his heart in an instant, especially with the words I love you papa. He is a very good papa and I am proud my children are able to call such a wonderful man papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we are moving on to the most important person in my life besides God...the person in which I can not imagine my life without the person who completes me and fulfils me, the person who I cherish and look forward to growing old with, my soul mate Justin. He truly is my soul mate in every sense of the word, he is my best friend, we finish each others sentences, we never fight...argue on occasion but fight...nto so much, we feel lost without each other, he is the male version of me...that must be why I love him so much! lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh children are awake I must go...I hear a sweet little voice calling mommy and soon to follow will be gooing from upstairs...until next time....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2396392094902311837-8800599824842735132?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/8800599824842735132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/continuing-with-important-people-in-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/8800599824842735132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/8800599824842735132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/continuing-with-important-people-in-my.html' title='Continuing with important people in my life...'/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdvQmGxH6PI/AAAAAAAAABY/2vEphhhka3A/s72-c/pics+327.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2396392094902311837.post-1128421494170264728</id><published>2009-04-06T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T14:07:10.213-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='13th'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funeral'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='brother'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medicine hat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sturgeon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cancer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='born'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I am what ...blogging? Really?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Here I am sitting on the computer children sleeping and me learning how to blog. Blogging is all new to me but I guess it is just a blank canvas to write ones thoughts or tell about y&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;our day. I will randonly write things...as you will see my mind jumps from one thing to the next so feel free to read!&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hmm&lt;/span&gt; where do I even start...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;agh&lt;/span&gt; a thought...&lt;br /&gt;I was born in Edmonton and really never broke &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sdu3EnVAmOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/4SBXlGn_DbA/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sdu3EnVAmOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/4SBXlGn_DbA/s320/pics+dec+02+08+082.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322048674572835042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;the bars to escape the city until just recently in our move to Medicine Hat. On July 1 1979...the clouds parted t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;he skies cleared, the birds chirped and God sent a beautiful baby girl down to my parents...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;agh&lt;/span&gt; what a glorious da&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;y. Edmonton will never be the same. I had a fairly "normal life" as one would say. My parents were very loving and made sure their kids never went with out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an older brother Trevor, in which I love and look up to even though he received some hair loss and I a few fist fulls of hair...among other things such as so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sdu3w2eVmAI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZEJcJcm4Kas/s1600-h/pics+dec+02+08+028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sdu3w2eVmAI/AAAAAAAAABA/ZEJcJcm4Kas/s320/pics+dec+02+08+028.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322049434552735746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;me bruises and bumps and I some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;aggravation&lt;/span&gt; as he would &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;mouth off to me and get me angry enough to do these things. Good times. Now we are all grown up, both of us with children and spouses but when we get together there is something about him that just makes me feel like I am 10 and him 12 and things never changed. Then reality slaps you in the face and you come to face the fact that the dreaded 3-0 is fast approaching and you along with your brother are becoming the people whom always seemed much much older&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt; the what you feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  My mother is very giving sweet lady, who has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;taught&lt;/span&gt; me a lot about life and most of my morals and values which makes me who I am today. In some ways mother I are similar...like our obsession with having a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ridiculously&lt;/span&gt; clean home, our gift of the gab, and our giving thoughtful nature (at least I think so anyways &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;). Then there are some things we differ in which I think I may get more from my fathers side like my need for a rush or thrill like riding my motorcycle or wanting to skydive or even just hanging out and having a cold one with my hubby. Mother is changing as she ages which sometimes blows me away for example she had a beer on her last vacation...really! a beer! My mom a beer! This is quite shocking as she was the girl at a party when she was young tossing a po&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sdu4p-73miI/AAAAAAAAABI/PJwdy0zoFJY/s1600-h/pics+323.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sdu4p-73miI/AAAAAAAAABI/PJwdy0zoFJY/s320/pics+323.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322050416076626466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;or guys beer out the window because she did not want to drink it. She has never liked the smell or taste of beer but apparently her taste buds &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;change&lt;/span&gt; with age. I am quite close to my mom and share with her a lot, I really appreciate our friendship and our chats. She is the best grandma anyone could hope for their children and I know she would give the world to any of her grandkids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving on to my father, oh how I miss him. My dad was the man who always made me laugh, the guy would give the shirt off his back for just about anyone. I remember as a kid I would stand on the bed and Dad would sweep my feet out from under me and I would get those butterflies rush to my tummy as I fell to the bed. My parents split when I was in grade four and those are memories I would rather not think of because it was hard times. Dad took my brother and I to Disney land and world for the first time and we made some cherished memories there. As I got older Dad and I talked on the phone every day and each time he would make me giggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In October 2003 I got a call from a friend and co-worker of my dads, telling me to go to the Sturgeon hospital because my dad is there...right away you get an instant panic...but I get in the car and drive there with a m&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;illion thoughts racing through my head. What is wrong...did he get hurt at work, was it a car accident what is it! I find his room...walk in to see my dad perched on the side of the bed in a hospital gown and he looks okay...to the eye at least..oh what a relief, dad is going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;to&lt;/span&gt; be okay. I come closer look him in his eye and see his eyes have tears in them. I think what is wrong Dad you have never cried...dad I have never seen you cry! He looks at me and says honey I have cancer...my world instantly starts spinning...I think no dad..this can't be ...you are my dad and this does not happen to us. No. I run out of the room....down the hall and outside...I see an isolated spot where I cry, I say to myself...come on put yourself together and go back int here. So I do. We talk, he tells me he has been very sick lately and just avoiding going to doctors until he was at work and collapsed. He then was admitted to the hospital, the next night, I give up some hockey tickets and go to the hospital to watch the game with my dad in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt; room. In his hospital gown we go down the hallway and sit on the small couch, he puts his hand in mine for a bit and looks at me with his "it will be okay" smile and we watch the game. He gets released and they tell him he will soon get his diagnosis. We have that thanksgiving together and I will always cherish that time. Before you know it...he can barely breathe and is back in hospital. I go with him by ambulance to the Cross Cancer...there I fill out his paper work as he gets looked at by a doctor. That day my life changed. I come in the room and a doctor follows and sits down next to my dads bed. He has a concerned look on his face, eyebrows down and mouth flat. He looks at my dad and says Art, I am sorry to tell you that we &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;can not treat your cancer, it is too far gone, it is everywhere, you maybe have 3 days to live. At that moment I felt so full of anger, anger at my dad for leaving me and for smoking angry at the doctor because it seemed as though he was not even trying just angry...so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;freakin&lt;/span&gt; angry! I once again look my dad in his eyes with tears running down my own, the doctor asks my dad if he understands this and I proceed to get my questions some what answered by the doctor. I leave to room cell phone in hand &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;extremely&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;distraught&lt;/span&gt; and upset thinking who do I call...my mom...she will help me...call mom. I call her she seems in shock but always so strong and says she will come meet me at the hospital. We go back to the sturgeon and meet there. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;That&lt;/span&gt; night I go home to call my brother who is out of town for work and tell him the news...it was so hard...my brother is another strong one in which it was hard to hear him so upset. I feel so robbed. The next day we go, dads condition &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;deteriorating&lt;/span&gt; however we can still talk and dad was still loving his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Pepsi&lt;/span&gt; but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; about it, we spend the night there. I terrified to be the only one in the room with him, lie next to him on a cot listening for his breathing scared...afraid of the number 13... as the next day was the 13&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; only hours away...then he was in room 13...13 just seemed to be a sign.  Trev and I call the rest of dads family to tell them the news...dad &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;stops&lt;/span&gt; eating...stops drinking...he lie there in a comma...I comb his hair...I talk to him...but we know the moment is coming...and its coming fast. Dad stops peeing you see his organs shutting down. The only time he manages to briefly open his eyes is when my mom tells him Tracy and Trevor are here, he looks at us and falls back into h&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdvHrmf4m-I/AAAAAAAAABQ/VFf3-JQHM1I/s1600-h/scan0002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 317px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdvHrmf4m-I/AAAAAAAAABQ/VFf3-JQHM1I/s320/scan0002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322066936550956002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;is deep sleep. I leave to have some quite time...I go to the chapel in the hospital...there I say a prayer. Trev and I go back to the room to tell my dad its okay ...you have been a great dad and we love you but if you want to be out of pain and go to somewhere better its okay to go. Only moments pass when you can sense he is taking his last breathes and you know its soon going to be all over...Trev and I cry...the entire room of family cries...Trev on one side I on the other hold his hands and tell him we love him but I cant resist to tell him no dad no...no...dont go dad...no. He takes one last deep breathe and leaves us and goes on to Heaven to be the best guardian angel one could ask for. The next few days I plan his funeral with my brother and my mom by my side, we clean out his apartment and start to get things in order. Oh did I say...room 13 November 13&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; and he died at 6:13. His funeral was on the 13&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; hour to continue with his theme there we also had the whole &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;congregation&lt;/span&gt; open a can of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Pepsi&lt;/span&gt; as my brother says a toast to my dad in heaven. Days go on into months and into years, he has now been gone for 5 and a half years and I think about him daily and miss him, but know I will see him again. My dad, my angel, my hero my shining star.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Pheww&lt;/span&gt;...I never knew I was going to get into that, never before did I write anything about this  it feels relieving. Okay I am tired of typing for one day....maybe there will be more again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2396392094902311837-1128421494170264728?l=palmeroni.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/feeds/1128421494170264728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-what.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/1128421494170264728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2396392094902311837/posts/default/1128421494170264728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://palmeroni.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-what.html' title=''/><author><name>palmeroni</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05566306449511726154</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/SdlvrbvnufI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EeMKSB1fVso/S220/pics+dec+02+08+191.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4PtrhnqdrtY/Sdu3EnVAmOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/4SBXlGn_DbA/s72-c/pics+dec+02+08+082.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
